#make me really like puff my chest out. like. ha HA. look at how fucking unpopular this music is ajjfyruygrus

[sergle]

granted, I don't like the spotify change where they moved the album art + a bunch of new info to the righthand side of the ui. I don't need all that. that SAID, it's giving me popularity info I wouldn't otherwise see, and it's making me wanna act like an indie boy SOOO BADD

OHHH my bands are so fucking obscure... they're so fucking obscure it makes you sick. oh, my bands? you've never heard of them.

[tojisun]

so obsessed with the “my cock is big so it wont fit” / “try me” relationship dynamic ughhhh thinking about this with simon and reader, and how reader’s desperation made them spiral, makes me so giggly

thinking about the way you finger yourself everyday to stretch yourself out for simon; preparing yourself for him. practicing for him.

it becomes a routine; it was mundane, almost, but every time the thought that you’re doing this for simon slithers its way back to the forefront of your mind, you lose yourself—doused in the tendrils of your desire, so powerful it has you clenching on your own fingers.

they never hit deeper, never stretch you out wider, but they scratch the itch to be stuffed and manage to satiate you long enough for the next day to roll by.

it’s a lot worse when you meet up with simon because your core throbs with need, leaving you crossing your legs to give yourself that muted relief. but it’s never enough, is it?

simon’s right there, voice thick like molten lava, viscous as it washes over you. “are you alright, love?”

and you lie, gritting your teeth and clenching your fists tightly, telling him that of course you’re fine. because what else can you say? “i dream of your cock so much that i fuck myself everyday as prep”?

if you do say that, simon won’t ever let you live it down. so you stay quiet, crossing-and-uncrossing your legs at every of his deep laugh or gentle crooning, trying your best to ignore the way his palm squeezes the muscle of your thigh. you wonder if he’s doing this on purpose by now because there’s no way simon actually does naturally talk like this—

it’s all teases and taunts as a whirlpool of petnames dribble from his quirked-up lips. he calls you, baby and darling. he calls you sweetheart and lovie. but then he also calls you pup, doll, pet—anything that makes you gasp, and quiet puffs of breaths wheeze out of your trachea in your own stupor.

“you seem distracted,” he murmurs, his voice a worried croon.

“uh-huh,” you say, not really listening, because simon’s hand is climbing up higher and higher on your thigh.

simon notices your stare, because of course he does, then does…

nothing.

he drops you off to your place that night, and leaves a kiss on your forehead before driving off. you watch from your living room window as he disappears from your line of sight before clambering towards your room, tearing your pants off your body and chucking your little slip of underwear behind you as you do so.

you sink into your plush mattress, knees braced by your softer pillows, before reaching behind you to plunge yourself with your fingers. two of them slide in easily, and you crook them just right until you’re mewling. moaning. crying.

simonsimonsimon—

your orgasm is a sharp rip of euphoric release. but the tidal wave of your ecstasy wafts off into its remnants just as quick because this, fucking yourself, isn’t the fix you want. it isn’t the fix you need.

(that said, making simon buckle was a lot easier said than done.)

you parted your legs yourself, planting your hands on the underside of your thighs to pull them open for simon. simon laughs when he saw this, his pale cheeks so flushed with his own desire.

“hurry,” you whine, all choked-up with your desperation, and simon only croons a warning.

“we need ta’prepare you, pup. i’m too big f’r you.”

his acknowledgment makes you leak, your wanton thoughts turning into slick that gushes out of you. simon laughs, so utterly endeared.

“i prepared myself, si! please put it in!”

simon sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. “i thought you wanted my cock?”

he waits for you to nod. you do so, careful, as your wet eyes look up at him.

“hmm. so listen to daddy, yeah?”

“okay,” you mumble, too overwhelmed to fight back.

simon smiles, murmurs his praises, and then he’s bringing his head between your legs. you squeak, surprise dotting your vision. you expected simon to prepare you, yes, but you expected his fingers—long, rough, thick—and not his tongue—

“siii-monnnn,” you keen, legs buckling from your hold until they tumble to his back, your strength getting zapped out of you at every lap of simon’s tongue.

it’s so good! so, so good!

simon takes over, hooking your legs over his shoulders himself as he burrowed deeper, nose grinding against the sensitive underside of your sex. his tongue pushes against your walls, sliding between them, and then simon sucks.

fuck! fuck—

sorta pt 02

[jobean12-blog]

The Fine Print

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (CEO!Bucky AU)

Word Count: 4,126

Summary: You've been working under Bucky for almost a year and he's always been a grumpy ass and even though when the lines get blurred you can't seem to stay away.

Author's Note: These new pics and all the new gym shots and vids and yum! Just being fed so well! I like the idea of a grumpy CEO who just wants you and he's mad about it. No excuse for being a dick but he's not really all bad. And anyway, I'd never tell him no...haha! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Thank you Daisy for the lovely divider @firefly-graphics😘

Warnings: Grumpy ass Bucky (he's a total ass sometimes but has moments of softness), sassy reader, lots of tension, flirting, curses, fingering, light dirty talk

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You’re late. Only twenty minutes but it’s long enough that your grumpy ass of a boss will have your head for it.

Grumpy…and an ass but entirely too gorgeous.

You pick up the pace, precariously balancing your files and bags and hoping you don’t faceplant on the newly shined floors.

Getting a flat tire on the highway this morning wasn’t on your long to-do list for today, but it still happened and now you’ll have to deal with a very cranky Mr. Barnes.

You round the corner and enter your office, ready to give your usual sunshine filled greeting.

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes!”

He’s standing at your desk, arms crossed over his broad chest and his eyes hard.

“Is it a good morning?” he asks, not bothering to move out of the way as you try to slip around him. “What time is it?”

You stop and meet his glare.

“I had some car trouble this morning. I got a flat on my way in.”

Your voice comes out steady and strong and relief floods through you. This was the first time you were late, and you were not going to be reprimanded.

“Trouble is quite the fitting word for what I’ve been dealing with in your absence.”

You glance up at him and his antagonizing stare, and blink away your surprise at his words.

“I would have thought you would at least ask me if I was ok Mr. Barnes,” you say sweetly and with a smile. “After all, how could I possibly manage to fix a flat tire all on my own.”  

His jaw clenches tightly.

“Obviously you managed,” he counters. “And you look just fine.”

Beautiful blue eyes wander languidly down your body before making their slow perusal back up to study your face.

You try to school your features and when he raises an expectant brow you bite back with, “Thankfully I am fine, and I got help but I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with the burden of picking up a telephone and sending an e-mail all on your own this morning. It won’t happen again.”

He takes a step closer to you and you stop yourself from swaying forward to get a hint of his scent.

Traitorous body. If only the fucker wasn’t so fucking hot.

“You’re right. It won’t,” he replies with a smug smile. “And just so you don’t forget, I’d like to see…”

He spends the next minute rattling off several project pieces he’d like to see completed and on his desk by the end of the day.

“And then you can make up the half an hour you missed by getting together a mock presentation for our meeting tomorrow.”

When your nostrils flare, he smiles triumphantly and dips his head, so his warm breath caresses the shell of your ear.

“I’ll see you in the conference room at six.”

He turns away and slams his office door behind him and you let out an exasperated puff of air.

“It was only twenty minutes asshole.”

You mutter the words under your breath as you plop into your office chair and continue to curse his name in grumbles.

There’s a light knock on the door before it opens and you know you’re about to hear the voice of your friend and coworker, Jess.

“I know you’re working through lunch,” she says. “So at least let me get you something.”

You don’t look up but smile nonetheless, your fingers flying over the keyboard with ease.

“Honestly, I don’t even think I have time to eat,” you say before hitting the period button hard and meeting her eyes.

Jess gives you a sympathetic look. “I’ll grab you something nutritious.”

She waves before gently shutting the door. You lean over to check your desk drawer for snacks, the mention of lunch reminding you that you are in fact, hungry. At the same time that you see you have nothing to eat you notice a tear in your stockings.

“Son of a bitch,” you grumble. “I just bought these.”

Less than a minute later your door opens again and without looking up from your screen you whine, “do you know what, after the morning I’ve had I think I’ll take something sweet…maybe a cookie. Or twelve. Or chocolate of any kind.”

When you receive no acknowledgement, in return you glance up and see that Jess is not standing at your door.

You quickly tug the hem of your skirt down, noting how Bucky’s eyes track the movement and linger on your legs.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes, I didn’t realize…”

“Since your morning has been so awful,” he starts, his sly smile growing, “why don’t you run down to the café and pick us both up some lunch.”

Your lips purse and once again his eyes seem glued to every action you take.

“Mr. Barnes, Jess has just come in and said she would grab me something to eat so I can continue working through lunch.”

When he doesn’t say anything, you continue.

“I have A LOT to get done.”

“I’m sure you’ll make it work,” he says before rattling off his lunch order.

He turns on his heel and takes two long strides back to his office, pulling the door closed hard behind him.

“What the f…?”

You don’t even finish the sentence when he opens the door again and pokes his head out.

“Make sure you get yourself something to eat. We’re going to be here late.”

The door slams shut again, and you abruptly stand, your rolling chair flying back into the wall as you storm off.

“Why does he care if I eat or not?” you ask yourself as you angrily stuff things into your bag and throw it over your shoulder.

The rest of the day goes by far too quickly and you find yourself cursing out the copy machine as you wait for the rest of your papers to go through. Checking your phone you see you’re already almost ten minutes late to your afterhours ‘meeting.’

You rush down the dim hall of the now empty building, your presentation materials clutched tightly to your chest and glance again at your phone.

Fifteen minutes. Shit.

As you near the conference room, you try to calm your breathing and slow to a walk. A soft light shines from under the door, and you know he’s in there waiting for you.

Taking a deep breath you knock.

“Come in.”

You walk into the large room, never failing to take in the view of the city that the floor to ceiling windows along one wall highlight.

At the head of the large dark wood conference table, sits Bucky. His suit jacket is hanging haphazardly over the back of his chair, his tie is loose around his neck, and the crisp white sleeves of his button down are rolled up to his elbows.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes. The copy machine…”

Realizing you’ve been apologizing all day, and it has made no difference, you stop yourself and lift your chin, walking over to where he sits and placing down your papers, sorting through them as quickly as possible so you can begin.

“Have you eaten dinner?” he asks.

His question takes you completely by surprise and you meet his piercing blue eyes with a confused expression.

“I uh…I had lunch.”

“That doesn’t answer my question sweetheart.”

At his sugared endearment, your eyes widen, and your breath catches in your throat, but you regain your composure.

“No. I haven’t.”

He just nods and gestures to the papers, clearly waiting for you to get started.

You lean over the table, searching for the paper you need and in your disheveled state don’t realize your entire lower body is practically draped over him.

“I just need to find…”

The words catch in your throat when you feel his fingers softly touch your thigh, slowly inching higher to reveal the tear in your stocking. His fingertips trace the sheared fabric and press against your skin, igniting it with heat.

Every muscle in your body tenses, your heart pounds in your chest and your brain screams at you to push him away but you don’t dare move.

“Look at me,” he demands, pressing his fingertips harder into your skin.

You straighten and turn to face him, his hand sliding up and over the curve of your hip to settle on your waist.

“Mr. Barnes?” you ask, keeping your eyes trained on his.

“James. Call me James.”

The intensity of his stare makes your breath catch and when he doesn’t answer and instead continues letting his hand trace your curves you battle with your emotions.

“The next time you have car trouble,” and his hand slips under your skirt again, “you call me.”

“What? Why would I?”

His fingertips graze the lace top of your stocking before he lifts your skirt higher and drops his eyes between your legs.

“Because I said so,” he murmurs, teasing along your inner thigh.

Your hand falls to the table to steady yourself and you willingly spread your legs open when he gives them a slight push.

“That’s hardly a good reason,” you breathe out.

“Fuck,” he growls, and his eyes fall closed.

You glance down at his lap and see him straining against the expensive fabric of his pants.

He smooths two fingers along the line of your panties, lightly pressing against your swollen and sensitive clit. His eyes open and he looks furious, fisting the thin material in his hand and in one quick movement, tearing it off.

He pulls you down roughly onto his lap, your skirt riding up over your hips to accommodate the wide spread of your legs as you straddle him.

An involuntary moan slips past your parted lips when he grabs your ass and drags you down over his hard cock.

When he opens his mouth to speak you grab his tie between your fingers and use it to pull his mouth to yours. Every sweep of his lips is heaven, and you release his tie to rake your fingers through his hair.

He makes a low, angry noise deep in his throat and you trail your lips along his jaw, kissing your way down the strong column of his neck.

His hand slides from your ass and slips between your legs, his fingers brushing through the wetness just before there’s a knock on the door.

You both go completely still and wait. When a second knock sounds, he quietly curses and gently lifts you off his lap.

You quickly pull your skirt down and smooth your hands over your hips. He watches your every move as he runs a hand through his mussed hair and sits up in the chair, hiding his legs and erection under the table.

“What?” he growls, loud enough for whomever is on the other side to hear.

“Mr. Barnes, we’re scheduled to do maintenance in here tonight.”

He curses again and continues to stare at you.

“I’m just finishing a meeting. Give me five minutes.”

“Of course, Mr. Barnes,” the maintenance manager, says, “take your time.”

His chest rises and falls rapidly as he splays his hands out over the tabletop. Hastily he stands and tries to straighten his tie, his eyes landing on your ripped panties that lie on the floor.

He grabs them and rubs the silky fabric between his fingers.

“Make sure you eat something,” he says and then shrugs on his suit jacket, tucking your panties into the breast pocket.

You’re clutching the table and staring as he grabs his briefcase and starts toward the door.

“It’s late. I’m going to have security walk you to your car,” he states, finally meeting your eyes.

His groan is pained as his gaze travels down your body and then he disappears out the door.

You fall back into a chair and try to calm your breathing. You’d have to be out of here in a minute and you didn’t want to look suspicious. Seeing movement outside the door you begin gathering your things and stand on still shaky legs.

With a deep inhale you straighten your shoulders and walk out the door with a serene smile, greeting the head of security and thanking him for escorting you out.

What the fuck just happened?

The next morning you’re making your way into the office when he walks in. You do nothing more than greet him with a curt nod, giving him a wide berth of space as you make your way to your desk.

You can feel his eyes on you, the lick of heat traveling down your spine. You’re wearing your favorite dress and while it’s appropriate for the workspace it accentuates all the right spots, and you smile to yourself as you bend down to retrieve something from your desk drawer.

Regardless of what transpired last night you are not going to let it affect your work. You felt powerful and confident in this dress and Mr. Barnes can fuck off.

You peek over your shoulder to find him standing halfway in the doorway of his office and staring. You raise your brows and blink.

He clears his throat and mumbles a short “good morning,” then steps into his office and slams the door.

You roll your eyes and promise yourself he’ll be the last thing on your mind as you set out to get as much work done today as possible.

As lunch approaches you grab your bag and reach for your wallet. Your fingers close around a crumpled piece of paper, and you start to smile when you’re reminded of what it is.

You knock on his office door and saunter inside when he says, “come in.” The receipt hits his desk with a smack and without an explanation you turn and walk back out.

You almost make it to the first step in the stairwell when you hear footsteps approach behind you.

“Where the hell do you think you’re running off to?” he calls.

You continue walking and make it down one flight of steps before saying, “to get lunch.”

He meets you on the landing and clutches your elbow, spinning you around and pushing you against the wall.

Your eyes narrow contemptuously.

He whips the receipt out and in front of your face. “Want to explain this sweetheart?”

You let out a wry chuckle. “You know for such a smart guy you really are an ass sometimes. It’s a receipt.”

“I can see that,” he says through clenched teeth. “What I want to know is why you’re making purchases for…lingerie…on my company credit card.”

“Some jerk ripped up my favorite pair of panties last night.”

You shrug your shoulders and try to skirt past him.

His hand meets the wall next to your head, his fingers curling and crumpling the receipt and you can feel how tightly the muscles in his body are flexed when he presses closer.

He looks tormented for the split second before his lips crash down on yours and your treacherous body melts into the kiss.

His cock throbs against your stomach as he tries to hike your dress up over your thighs. Reluctantly he steps back, making enough space so he can slowly slide your dress higher, above your panties and look his fill.

“I like this pair even more than last nights,” he simpers.

His fingers hook into the lace at your hip, and you grab his shirt. “Don’t you dare Barnes.”   

“You can buy as many new pairs as you want.”

He once again easily tears them from your hips.

Your lips part in shock but he swallows your sassy remark with his mouth. The roughness of his kiss is a sharp contrast to the way his fingers softly tease between your legs.

You need more but you’ll be damned if you’re going to beg him for it. As if he can read your inner thoughts, his eyes light up in triumph when he pulls away to meet your gaze.

“As much as I want to hear you beg me for it sweetheart, I already know how badly you want it. You’re soaked for me.”

“You’re such an ass…”

He slides a finger inside you and your combined groans echo in the empty stairwell, the insult dying on your lips.

His stare is intense as he dips his head to your ear, warm lips brushing ever so gently when he whispers, “say please and I’ll give you what you want.”

Instead, you nip at his jaw, stifling the moan of need that threatens to rise in your throat. He continues pumping one finger in and out, sweat beginning to bead on his brow and his teeth gritted.

You hiss out a curse that’s followed by a breathy “please.”

You’re expecting him to be smug but instead he slows his movements and languidly pushes a second finger inside you, clearly relishing the way your eyelids flutter closed and you clench around him.

“That’s it sweetheart. Show me how much you love it when I fuck you with my fingers.”

His words practically send you over the edge but it’s the press of his thumb to your clit that makes your legs start to shake and his name fall from your lips like a prayer.

When his head falls to your neck and he places soft kisses along your skin, traveling up to your ear to whisper, “come for me gorgeous,” you let go and dig your fingernails into his strong shoulders, finishing with a muffled cry.

He draws out your pleasure with the slow push and pull of his fingers before sliding them out and holding them between you, his skin glistening under the harsh fluorescent lights.

His fingers press to his lips, parting them as he licks them clean, clearly savoring every drop of your taste.

“I knew you’d be sweet,” he croons.

“James,” you whimper when your hands fall to his pants.

He grabs your wrist to stop you and pushes your hand away. With soft movements he fixes your dress, smoothing his hands along your curves.

“But…” you start, and he silences you with a kiss.

You’re breathless and your head is fuzzy by the time he pulls away and with a wink he steps back and says, “lunch is over. We have a meeting to attend.”

He turns on his heel and jogs back up the steps with ease. Your narrowed eyes follow him before you let out a frustrated huff and walk on wobbly legs in the same direction.

You had forgotten all about the meeting…the one you were supposed to go over the plans for the night before.

When you walk into the large conference room everyone is already seated and Bucky is of course at the head of the table. His eyes are trained on you as you walk to the front and place your things down near him.

The presentation you’re giving shouldn’t take more than ten minutes, but there’s a lot riding on it and after what just happened, you’re obviously feeling flustered.

You open your document and greet and address the room, doing everything in your power to keep your focus on where it belongs and not on him.

But when you pause your eyes lock with his and your ability to speak is momentarily stolen. His gaze is intense, the heat simmering there almost palpable.

With a clear of your throat you continue, fumbling slightly but thankfully recovering quick enough that no one seems to notice. No one but him.

His perfect lips raise in a lopsided grin, and he runs his tongue along the seam of his lips. It’s clear where his thoughts are, and you must tear your eyes away to unscramble your head. He’s obviously trying to fluster you and quickly your nerves are replaced with anger, and you use it to fuel the rest of your presentation, finishing it with ease.

You sit with a smile and lift your chin, challenging him with your eyes. He stares right back.

“Thank you,” he says, addressing you by your first name as he stands and commands the room. “That was an excellent presentation. Clearly, you were well prepared.”

You can’t tell if his words are mocking or meaningful and it sets you on edge. He moves around the room and answers any lingering questions before ending the meeting with a dismissive hand.

As people stand and gather their things, Bucky comes up behind you, pressing his chest close to your back as he leans in to pretend to grab something from the table.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to make it thought that” he chuckles.

To everyone else it appears he’s making a funny remark, but you can feel your skin heat at his proximity and taunting words.

“Ugh,” you say through gritted teeth. “You would have loved that wouldn’t you?”

You can feel your eyes fill with unshed tears, the emotions of the day finally catching up to you and when his gaze finds yours his expression morphs from haughty to soft in an instant.

It only sends you reeling again, the confusion flooding through you and before he can say more you gather your things and rush out the door. Unexpectedly, he’s hot on your heels all the way to the elevator.

There are several other people on it so when you stop at the next floor and more employees file in, you’re squeezed toward the back, pushed farther into him, your ass against his crotch.

He’s hard and you feel the rest of him stiffen with the sharp intake of his breath. You take a step away from him, as much as you can in the confined space, but he reaches forward and grips your hip to pull you back.

“Don’t move,” he whispers into your neck.

“I’m two seconds away from shoving my heel up your ass,” you seethe.

He leans even closer, keeping a firm grasp on your hip.

“You were deliberately trying to make me fuck that up!”

You turn your head to peer at him and his mouth falls open, brows furrowed.

“What?” he says.

“You heard me.”

When you reach the floor just before the top, everyone else exits the elevator and the doors close, leaving you both pressed together in the corner.

It starts to move again, and you jerk backward, falling against him as he leans into the wall.

His sudden growl startles you and then he slams his hand into the stop button on the control panel.

His body cages you against the wall and his breathing is harsh.

“I would never want you to fuck anything up,” he exhales. “It’s impossible for me to think about anything but you…how good you taste, and I haven’t even gotten my mouth on you.”

You hide your surprise at his confession.

“Yet.” He adds in a promised whisper.

“This is my career at stake Mr. Barnes. You’re the one with all the power here. What do you have to lose?”

“Me? All the power?” He laughs dryly. “You’re the one who does this to me…the only one.”

You feel him throb against your stomach and you can see the truth in his eyes.

“Then don’t be such a dick all the time.”

You mean the words to come out harsh but instead they’re a quiet whisper and your expression softens.

It’s all he needs before his lips crash to yours and he slides his hands down to your ass, squeezing his way to the hem of your dress.

“I had to sit there and watch you present, the whole fucking time knowing you had nothing on under here.”

His touch is delicate as he spreads your legs and slides a finger through your folds, already wet and aching.

“I was sitting there hard as a rock just thinking about bending you over that table, tasting you, fucking you.”

Your fingers close around his biceps, the soft fabric of his suit jacket bulging under the strained muscles.

“Is that what you want?” he asks as his fingers continue to tease you.

“Yes,” you answer as you grab hold of his tie and bring his lips closer.

He kisses you, never touching you where you need it most and when he pulls away, he presses the elevator button, causing it to start moving again.

He removes his fingers and reaches up to straighten his tie and when the doors open, he backs out, his voice low and deep when he says, “I need to see you in my office. Immediately.”

He turns and glides from the elevator, his long strides carrying him quickly toward his office and you can’t do anything but follow.

@blackwidownat2814 @hiddles-rose @kmc1989 @goldylions @lizette50

[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.

[inupibaldspot]

From you, For him

| Part 2 of At him, For him

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : Normal like no curse and stuff AU where Gojo is in love with Geto’s lover but this time he has the chance to change everything. This contains time travel!

I wrote it in a way you can understand what’s happening even if your don’t read part 1 btw

·:*¨༺ Part 1 ༻¨*:·

Gojo Satoru feels as if he can’t breathe.

He inhales. His chest hurts and he has a horrible attempt at keeping his glazing eyes in check as he fakes a smile and claps his hands together; there was a blur silhouette of Geto and you in a distance in tears ,both wearing matching rings.

“Woah—! Congratulations you two.” Shoko smiles wildly as she brings her hands close to her mouth,cheering. She briefly turns to Gojo and looks back at the couple. “Keep it together,Gojo… you’ve done that for years so why bother showing it now.”

Gojo lets out a laugh. “How cruel…” of course Shoko knows he has had this unrequited love for years. He breathes out. “I’ll head out for a second.”

Shoko nods as she reaches out and puts a cigarette and lighter in his pocket. He mutters a ‘thanks’ as he opens the door, cold breeze immediately greeting him. He breaths in again as his hands search for warmth in his pockets, turning to the alleyway.

Once when he is secluded, he brings out the piece of cigarette Shoko handed him earlier as he places it in between his lips, his hands bringing up the lighter with one on the lighter as the other hand wraps to protect the small flame.

He did not smoke often—more like he didn’t even the last last time he did. Gojo sucks in a breath, his throat feels hot but his chest is lighter, no-he remembers smoking back in high school simply because of Shoko and Geto. His only two friends would leave him for smoke breaks and he didn’t want to be left alone so he simply picked up the habit. 

Gojo quit after he met you since he didn’t feel the need to tag along Geto and Shoko anymore.

Somewhere in between college,meeting you and now, he didn’t seem to care anymore.

“Hey kid.”

“Fuck!” Gojo jumps, his teeth biting into the cigarette as his eyes glare sharply in the direction of the sound. A man sits along the far end of the alley way, away from him.

The white haired man contains his jumped heartbeat as he walks over the man who called him over. His eyes trail the dress he wore; it was a traditional dark piece of clothing and beads around his hand. This man was cosplaying as a Priest. 

He didn’t say the word ‘cosplay’ lightly because first, to begin with, the man in front had a ‘magic ball’ in front of him as if he was waiting for people to share their future and second, he wasn’t too serious because boy—! That monk had thick hair on his head, not the shaven look you’d normally see.

Gojo met scammers; near the shopping center, outside popular restaurant and tourist attractions, by his house ringing on his doorbell and right now, infront of him.

“What‘cha gonna tell me,old man.” Gojo says as he peers in, with also taking in a puff of smoke. “That I’ll be having a wife and two kids in my 30s… If it’s not that, it means one of you is lying.” By ‘one of you‘ refers to the scammer-I mean fortune teller he let in his house because he was bored. 

“Hahaha-! That’s not it.” The man laughs as he faces Gojo directly, it was then when he finally notices a stitch mark which stretches across his forehead. “Just wondering if you’d ever regretted things… ‘things’ which you wished you could go back and change..”

Gojo laughs as he drops the half-piece of cigarette on the ground, stomping on it. No long interested. “Of course. I still wish I could go back in time and not erase my answers because my teacher made all the answers to the MCQ ‘c’ just when I didn’t study.” 

Fuck—just why did Yaga REALLY do that? Gojo thinks back at the thought.

“That’s what I like to hear.” Gojo turns when he hears the man speak. 

The man stands close—very close to him as his hands were making a V-sign (a peace sign) , fingers pointed near his eyes before the old man was stabbed into his eyes.

“Oh my god— shit! That hurt, old man.” Gojo places his hands on his eyes as he tries to soothe the pain from it. “What are you trying to do—huh…?”

He blinks once.

Twice.

He takes a deep breath. ‘It’s fine.’ He thinks to himself. ‘I’ve just lost my mind a tiny bit because y/n and Suguru are getting married.’

Gojo let out the breath and opened his eyes. Same scene. He was by a tree, near a building; he remembered this place being behind the building for the Class 1-3 who were studying the normal curriculum whereas advanced classes of class 4-5 students were in another building. 

“What the actual heck is happening?” Gojo grumbles as he looks at the calendar on his phone. He was back in high school. He was sent back in time by about 7 years. “Fuck… I guess that man wasn’t a quack….”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“That’s why I need you to help.” You wiggled your toes in your shoes as you stand, smiling. The teacher,Yaga Masamichi, was in front of you, sitting on his chair as he continued to talk- maybe complain would be a better word- about a certain boy from the advanced class. “The boy is smart but he lacks discipline! He needs someone as hardworking as you and maybe it’ll rub on to him.”

You’ve heard of Gojo Satoru. You’ve never seen him but he was very infamous in high school . First, for being the son of the Gojo Estate. Two, for being a very tall, conventionally attractive boy. Third, for being a delinquent. 

And that last part bothers you a lot, you’ve heard him get into fights, rumors of him smoking along the alleyway, ripping love letters into pieces and recently he skipped over all his tests making him fail his mid-terms. 

You gulp. Hope he doesn’t beat you up… 

Just then the door to the staff room slides open. You see enter, he was tall with white hair and lashes and the eyes in the most beautiful shade. No way this was Gojo right? He was so— beautiful.

Did he just make eye contact with you?

“Gojo come here.” Yaga calls out as he huffs. Gojo clears his throat as he walks to the teacher. When he was close enough Yaga continued. “This is y/n and I’m assigned to be your teacher. She’ll make sure you get all your works done plus make you study for the reassessment for the exam you skipped on.”

You watch Gojo who was towering beside you raise his hands and brought it up to his face, but from the angle you see the upward turn on the corner of his lips. Why was he smiling?

“Isn’t this -he points at you- from the normal department?” You huff when you were referred to as ‘this’. “You sure she is smart?”

“Don’t mess with y/n just because she isn’t from the advanced class— And also! In the last exam she was placed third overall , right below Suguru.” Yaga shouted back.

Your eyes trail back to him when the boy beside you seemed to still, You’ve heard of Geto Suguru too. Apparently a boy from the advanced class who was also popular for his good looks. But not only that— he had a delicate aura around him which makes people like him and to add on he was very much academically smart.

Gojo lets out a breath, as if it were more of an amazement in your opinion. You watch him take a small step back as he turns around and gives you a smile, god was unfair when he crafted this smile. “Then please take care of me, my tutor.” His face was close to yours.

‘My.’ You face almost burst with heat.

“Gojo stop bothering y/n.”

“Ouch—! That hurt sensei.”

Ever since then, once you hear the bell ring indicating school was over for the day, there would be Gojo poking his head into your class with a boyish grin plastered on his face, he takes your book-filled bag, slings it over his shoulder as you guys would walk to the library.

He sometimes passes by your classroom which is in the opposite building whenever he wants to go to the restroom in between classes—I mean he never did specify which restroom, hoping to catch a glimpse of you.

And when he does, his gaze flickered towards you, taking in the way your gaze reflected the warm sun from outside.It becomes clear to Gojo then that even now, despite everything—in between ever but of confusion, anger and guilt, he doesn't actually want to lose you. To his best friend. To anyone else.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Warm.

The way the curtains fluttered from the gentle wind, letting in a cool breeze and a glow of the evening sun and you. You sitting not even an arm's length away and just like the pace of his heart which picked up, pushing every worry he could still have further and further away because there was no space for those in that moment.

There was just you. And he could feel your presence a lot closer now, her warmth not far away from him.

God, you were beautiful.

So beautiful, he would not mind spending the rest of his life memorizing each feature belonging of yours.

“Stop staring at me.” You let down the pen you were holding, looking away from your homework.

“I can’t stop.” He admitted.

You huff, the smirk on Gojo widened as he could see a faint color rush to your cheeks. “Just do your work…” you wave him off as you grumble.

“I’m already done,love.” He continues his teasing.

You pink as you let out a small shriek at the nickname; you rush close to him as you cover your hands on his mouth. “Shut up—Gojo, I don’t want to be murdered by your fangirls because of this.”

He pecks your hands by pursing his lips forward, into the palm of your hands making you shriek once more pulling away.

“Gojo!” You glare at him as you reach your hands out and comically wipe your hands on his blazer as he laughs at your reaction. He leans forward as he looks at your books. “What’s this?” He asks.

“Ah…” you say as you bring out a book closer to him. “I’m studying for my entrance exam for this university.”

“Already?” But that’s like months away.

“Yeah.” Your voice is laced with a smile, gojo almost sees shining glitters surrounding you. “It’s like… kind of my dream as a kid to go here.”

Gojo laughs at how adorable you sounded. “Why that university though?”

“My parents-“ you turn almost too quickly to face him but then you stop yourself as you clear your throat. “My parents went there and that’s how they met and fell in love.”

“Ah…” Just like you and Geto… His heart pains again as he is reminded.

You bend down as you lean your head on the table, letting out a sigh with your hands on your sides. “I hope I get in though…”

“You will.” He says confidently. He knows you will. “Nerds like you will get in.”

“Gojo, I’m not a nerd.”

“Whatever you say, princess.”

“I’m not princess either!”

“Sure thing, love.”

“Oh— Gojo,stop that!”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“I need you to be serious, Satoru!”

He listens to you shout, even without turning to your direction he could basically sense you ‘huffing and puffing’, a habit you took till adulthood. He reaches out into the bushes, pushing the leaves away. “I am—! Sheesh, let me breathe.” Gojo laughs.

You two were currently near the patch of grass by the football ground; you had lost your key to the music club room—a room which was basically unused but you guys needed a room so you two can continue on with your study lessons. 

You bend to look over the bushes while Gojo does around the bushes checking every shrub. “Oh lucky— someone’s cigarette and lighter is hidden  here.” His smile widens as he reaches out for the gift, someone had kept here. “Satoru, don’t steal others' stash.” He puts it down upon hearing your words.

“So this where you go after classes,Satoru?”

He knew it was inevitable but he hoped he could extend it for as long as he could.

In front of him, holding a key was Geto Suguru, smiling at him with Shoko, a lollipop in her mouth peers over from beside him. “What you doing?”

Geto throws him the key at him which is catches instantly.He wanted the two of his friends meet you but he selfishly hoped it would be after like maybe, after you and Gojo date. Wow—what an optimistic! Gojo gulps, afterall what would he do if the two of you fall in love again? 

“You found it!” You jump, unaware that the two figures were his friends. You turn your head to look at him, at him. Despite Geto Suguru standing near you, you looked at Gojo. The white haired boy’s heart pulsed, the slow and steady pump now erratic and heavy with emotions. Just you looking at him with a smile, at him like he was the only one on the planet m. For the first time.

“Who is this?” Shoko says as walks to to the bush and sticks her hands in. You laugh. “That cigarette was yours?” Shoko nods.

“This… this is y/n.” Gojo grumbles, speaking low. “She is helping me with my reassessment.”

“That’s what you get for skipping assignments and test.” Shoko teases. 

Geto laughs.

Gojo eyes at your reaction and sighs in relief when you were still acting the same. Thank god, there was nothing of that ‘love at first sight’ going on. “I don’t need to take those test.Even Yaga knows I’m smart.”

Your roll your eyes. “I guess we won’t have those study sessions of now on, Gojo.”

“Wha— no! I need it.” Gojo jumps, as he comically starts shaking you, as if he got the most shocking news of the century. “No- nope! You can’t do that. I need you—!”

“Geto, let’s get going now.” She turns. Shoko looks over to Gojo, they make eye contact and the brown hair girl smiles. 

He knows that smile. 

That’s the smile Shoko gives when ever she figures out something. And equipped with a teasing look, Gojo is certain she knows that he is in love with you. “Good luck,Gojo.” With his studies or with you? Geto gives you guys a wave as he also turns around and walks way. 

From then onwards, it’s as if the friendship which you guys have in the future,college days were happening now. Hanging out, study sessions, sometimes sneaking into parties and café date; the four of you. Just like right now as you’re in Gojo’s room, a flat rented nearby your future college.

“No way.” Shoko starts. “We’re all going to be attending the same college.” Her smile widens when you cheer and jump into her arms, she quickly looks over and sees a fond smile on Gojo’s face…hilarious!

Geto laughs as he takes a sip on his coffee as the two girls snuggle closer to each other. “Did you know about this?” He peers over to Gojo who finally seemed broken from his trance—you.

Gojo nods. “Yeah… I mean I’ve seen her study for her exams.” He clears his throat. “Have you played the new ‘digimon’ game?” He changes topic, whenever Geto speaks of you or to you, it makes him feel small. This isn’t good. He relishes this yet it was suffocation. Gojo would never hate his best friend—never, but sometimes it’s insecurity and sometimes it’s guilt which swallows him whole. ‘Is this okay?’ 

Shoko breaks away from the hug and she pulls on your cheeks fondly, she thinks you’re the most adorable human as she turns to Geto. “Smoke break.” Geto smiles and nods, following behind Shoko who led the way.

Gojo turns to you, eyes carefully trying to take in your presence that is before he notices something—your eyes are ‘lingering.’ He follows your gaze, carefully in the direction.

You were looking at Geto.

All emotions are wiped from his face. Gojo knew this could happen, you can fall in love with Geto all over again. He was the one who was messing with fate and time, yet— it hurt.

You turn to Gojo, your face tilts up to meet his gaze as your lips turn into a teasing smile which quickly flatters when you see Gojo’s expression. Your heart settles and softens, you relax and reach over the table to grab one of his hands. “…Satoru?”

He turns to you, and smiles. “Yes?”

“Are you okay?”

“No…just thinking.”

You gulp wondering why it felt as if suddenly there was a huge rift when they were barely centimeters apart; for someone as big as Gojo his voice was so—so small. “…About?” You were almost scared to ask.

“Are you in love with Suguru?” Gojo beats himself for this, he has gone and done it now! 

You tilt your head. “where did that come from?”

“Friends don’t give each other love-filled lingering looks.” He scoffs. “So tell me-“ no he was being pushy. Gojo felt so backed into a corner for a moment but when he locked eyes with you, he was hurting you with the way he was acting.

He stands up. “I think I need some fresh air.”

“If I did love him, what would you do?” 

Were you testing him? 

“Please—please don’t fall for anyone but me…” he mumbles.

You watch as he slumps down on the floor, on his knees, burying his face into his hands, curling up almost as if to protect himself. Gojo is no longer confident egoistic boy you know, right now he seemed so weak; as if he was tired after a long journey. “I have surrendered myself to you for all of time; past, present and future I am yours…”

Your head is dizzy with all this information. You need time, you need clarity. Gojo feels like he is losing himself in his thoughts and also rambles with no coherence to what his mind has to say. “I don’t know what do do with this emotion but if I try to stop them they overflow and-” 

His heart seemed to thud to a stop in his chest and then start up again erratically, hands seemed to be incapable of doing anything other than hang close by his sides.

“Satoru, I love you…” you whisper and it is only then when he realizes you were also on your knees in front of him, thumbs wiping tears from his cheeks. “I’m sorry for joking— I don’t love Geto. It’s you I love. Don’t hate me?”

How can he hate you when you were still his everything: you were his everything even when you were intertwining hands with someone else?

“It’s me?” He breathes out. “Did you say you’re in love with me?” 

You nod.

“Oh wow.” He says which makes you laugh.

“I love you…” He says, years of these words inside the depth of his heart, was dug out. “From the bottom of my soul, I’m head over heels for you, my love.”

You almost cry at his tone, so gentle.

He caresses your hair, tenderly, running his fingers through the soft, silky strands. When he eventually has his hands on your cheeks; your cheeks flushing as he gazes at you, captivated by your presence. Your eyes sparkle with wonder, your lips plush and rosy. 

You are flawless, perfect in this moment and beautiful in his embrace.

Gojo didn’t even realize when he started to get so close to you. His lips pressed against her pulse in a kiss before he nipped the skin.His limbs burned where he touched you, you were warm. So it was cold after all, he realized somewhere along the line. His hands were freezing, clinging to your lower back. 

Gojo wants to stay like this, holding you for a minute longer or forever.

A whisper in his head was telling him to let go—that it wasn’t right, but Gojo wouldn't. He was hanging onto a life line, it hurt, but if he let go now, he would drown.

Gojo was vulnerable. And you kiss him back. Kiss him till he is fine. Kiss him until all his worries fly— till he understands, you are equally so stupidly in love with him. 

Unbeknownst to you two, Shoko peeks over inside the door, a small crack reveals what’s inside “You think they’re done?”

Geto laughs. “Of course not…but give them more time and they’ll be in bed.”

Shoko laughs lightly making sure she isn’t spotted yet as she then peers over to the taller boy beside her. “What about you? You good?”

“Yeah… it was just a crush.”  Geto looked at Shoko from the corner of his eyes and his lips curl into a smile. Shoko was always so observant. 

Taglist ˙✧˖° 🫧 ⋆｡—I tagged people who voted for time travel! Hope you guys don’t mind: @uuu55r64z46 @leviswifey-act62 @royaleashlyn @bakananya @bejwls @ritsatoru@washeduphasbeen @satorus-babygirl

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[cordeliawhohung]

take this pornstar!gaz idea. it sounded better in my head, but oh well.

cw: alcohol, mostly fluff, a little angst, two idiots in love.

Kyle’s never seen you in public before. 

Really, he hasn’t seen you anywhere that wasn’t either in your dressing room, or in the studio, so it feels like a dream when he catches you in the corner of his eye. Glitter captures the dim glow of the streetlamp like starlight on your eyelids as you giggle and sway on your feet. He’s never seen you dressed up, either; at least, not of your own accord instead of some stylists choosing. You’re absolutely radiant as you try to fight off the two girls on either side of you, both of who huff and puff at you as they try to drag you towards a running car parked just off the pavement. 

“You’re fucking pissed,” one of them says. “No damn way you’re taking the bus home.” 

Your response to her is muffled behind a whine and then another giggle as you paw at your eyes. Glitter stains your fingertips like dried blood, and you quickly wipe it off on the front of your shirt, spreading it along your body like a curse.

The night air grows heavy as Kyle adjusts the strap of his bag on his shoulder. Sweat still clings to his skin from a late night workout, but he ignores it as he allows his attention to wander. There’s a dewy glow to your skin — and not just from the glitter — that snitches to him that you’ve had more than enough to drink that night, as if the stumbling wasn’t enough. Despite your disheveled look, you’re still the most beautiful creature he’s ever laid eyes on. 

Except he’s seemed to have kept his eyes on you for a bit too long, because one of the women you’re with glares at him as if he’s human filth. It’s a sharp glare, one that warns him she’s not really one to mess with. It has his teeth digging into his cheek, and his feet stumble under the heat of her gaze. 

“The fuck’re you looking at?” she asks, voice dropping low.

Her biting tone has you looking at her with narrowed eyes before your head whips to the side with such force the rest of you nearly follows. Your eyes don’t quite reach his face, and you end up staring at his chest with squinted eyes for a solid few seconds. He’s sure the distance between you two — a good and safe couple of feet — doesn’t help either, but he stops in his tracks the moment you finally find his eyes. 

“Kyle!” you coo. 

His name sounds like a holy hymn on your tongue, and you slip out of the grasp of your friends in order to throw yourself at him. Catching you is easy. All it takes is his hands on your waist and your palms on his chest to steady you. Sour booze fills his nose, but he doesn’t even flinch at the burn. Your grin captivates him too much for him to do anything but smile. 

“Hey, doll,” he greets, his suave aura hiding the fact his heart pounds in his chest so violently it almost hurts. “Havin’ a good night?” 

“Well I was,” you groan. Your forehead presses against his chest, and Kyle is suddenly aware of the heat radiating off of his body. However, if you do smell the slight musk clinging to him after hitting the gym, you don’t mention anything. “They’re trying to get me into that stupid fucking uber and I just wanna walk home.” 

“You are not walking home,” one of the girls — the one who had glared at him before — interrupts. “And I’m not walking halfway across the city with your drunk ass, either.” 

“It’s not a great idea,” he concurs.

That only makes you groan again before leaning your entire body weight on him. You’re throwing a childish fit, yet he can’t help but chuckle as he wraps his arms around you in a light embrace to help keep you from falling face first into the pavement. Settling down, the two girls you’re with stop looking at Kyle as if he’s the devil himself, and more so just have an overall appearance of embarrassment for you. 

“I hate it here,” you whine. 

“How about this,” Kyle proposes, “you let your friends take the uber home, and I’ll walk you back to your place?”

“You’d do that for me?” you mumble into his chest. 

“Anythin’ for you.” 

Although you’re on board right away, it takes a little convincing to get your friends comfortable enough to have you walking home with an unfamiliar, sweaty man. They refuse to let you out of their sight until you admit to them that he’s technically your coworker (while also not so tactfully admitting he’s seen you naked and fucked you countless times and that you’d trust him with your life). After you promise to text them the moment you arrive home, your friends give you an awkward farewell before allowing Kyle to whisk you off into the night to lay down for a well deserved nap. 

It’s about a block and a half in that Kyle realizes why your friends fought so hard to take an uber. Not only is your flat truly on the other side of the damn city, but keeping you upright on your feet should be a sport. He keeps an arm around your waist for the entire walk just to keep you steady, but it also has the added benefit of warding off any shady eyes. And there are a lot of shady eyes. Enough to be grateful that he was the one who ran into you tonight rather than anyone else. 

By the time the two of you reach your apartment, you’ve hardly sobered up. Not that Kyle minds, of course. You’ve obviously had a fun night, and he rather enjoys your aimless rambling. It’s the most he’s heard you talk. Not even your fucked-out babbling on set gets you to talk that much. 

“Alright,” Kyle says as you unlock the door, “you gonna be alright for the night?” 

You throw him an odd side-eye as the door swings open. “Of course.” 

That was supposed to be where he said farewell, and yet you grab his hand and yank him into your apartment like you’re dragging around a dog on a leash. He figures sticking around for a little longer to at least help you into bed might not be a bad idea, certainly not with how inebriated you are, and somehow he ends up in the bathroom with you. 

Your legs swing carelessly as you sit on the counter, facing away from the mirror. You’ve roped Kyle into helping you take your makeup off, which so far has consisted of nothing but him holding your chin still and tilting your head as he fruitlessly wipes at the glitter on your face with a makeup wipe. There’s easier ways to get body glitter off of skin, but you rather enjoy the serious face of concentration that sets deep in his features as he gently scrubs at you. 

“You’re cute,” you giggle. 

“I’m cute?” he repeats. 

You nod, which makes him huff and readjust his grip on your chin. “You’re concentrating so hard.” 

“‘Course I am, gotta get this damn superglue off your face.” 

Kyle continues to wipe at your face for only a few more minutes before he decides that’s as good as it’s going to get. With his hand in yours, you lead him into your bedroom where the remaining evidence of your preparation for the night litters the foot of your bed in rejected clothing and accessories. You gather them up into a big pile in your arms where you toss it on top of your dresser before raiding the drawers for pajamas to wear. 

You don’t warn Kyle before you slip your shirt over your head. For some reason, it catches him off guard. He’s seen you naked countless times before; hell, he’s quite literally ripped clothes off of your body, yet this feels like a breach of privacy. You’re not in your right mind, still in a drunken stupor after a night out with the girls. It feels wrong, like he’s taking advantage of you, and instead of gawking at you like he normally does,  he turns away. 

It isn’t until you stand there in only your panties that you realize Kyle’s averted his gaze. A smirk pulls at your lips as you forget about changing and trot up to him, forcing his attention back on you. His eyes quickly wander, yet refuse to go any further than past your chest before they flicker back up to your face. Your small smirk quickly turns into a grin. 

“What’re you acting shy for, Kyle?” you tease. 

“Just givin’ you privacy, doll,” he defends. 

“Privacy?” you repeat. A small laugh leaves you as your hands press against his chest, forcing him to stumble backwards towards your bed. “You look nervous.” 

When the back of his legs hit the mattress, Kyle has no choice but to fall back. He sits on the edge of the bed with his hands propping his torso up, but you don’t allow him any breathing room before you’re straddling his hips. Perfume and alcohol fills his nose as you make yourself comfortable, and your eyes drink in his expression. You’ve never seen his eyes so dilated before, and you bask in the way they reflect the dim lighting of your bedroom. 

“Do I make you nervous, Kyle?” you ask, voice soft and low. 

The Adam’s apple in his throat bobs as he swallows, still unable to take his eyes off of you. Warm hands rest on your hips to keep you steady as you lean closer to him, lips ghosting against his earlobe as you continue to tease him. 

“Don’t tell me you’re all bark and no bite. You always said you wanted to get me without the cameras, didn’t you? Fuck me properly? Well, now’s your chance.” 

God, he wants to. It’s almost as if it’s part of his nature at this point; to please you. Your body has become his bread, the only sustenance he needs to keep himself going. As he stares up at you, he thinks of all the ways he could have you right there in that room that he can’t on set. The things he can say, admit; the sounds he could pull out of you for his ears and his ears only. He yearns for it so bad he feels it tearing him apart. 

But as he notices the glazed look in your eyes, he knows he can’t do it. You can hardly sit in his lip without him holding you steady, lest you fall backwards onto the floor. Images of fucking you when you’re like that, far from sober, flood his mind, and he feels ill. 

In order to get control of himself and his wandering mind, he quite literally turns the tables on you. Your vision blurs as you’re suddenly on your back, body resting on the comforter of your bed as Kyle sits back on his haunches between your legs. He taps your thigh before sliding away from you, and much to his surprise, you don’t even pout. 

“I’m gettin’ you water, and then you’re going to bed, yeah?” he says, gaining control of the situation. 

You stare up at him incredulously, hardly believing a word he says. Still, you agree with him as you shimmy up the bed where you rest your head on your pillows. The way you position your body, with your tits on display and a small smile on your lips, reminds him of the way you pose on set for the cameras. He wonders if you even know what it’s like to be fucked without having to perform anymore. 

“Whatever you say, Kyle.” 

When Kyle leaves your room, he wipes at his face with both of his hands and does his best to stifle a groan. It’s late, significantly later than he’s used to staying up, and his muscles ache from that evening’s workout. The mental jump rope he’s playing doesn’t help the fatigue in his body either. This is the most emotionally confused he’s been in quite a while, and he’s hoping he can just go home, take a cold shower, and forget about all of it come morning. 

It takes him longer than normal to get you a glass of water. Adrenaline courses through his veins like boiling water, and he can hardly hear anything over the thumping of his heart in his ears, so he tries to take a moment to panic by himself in your kitchen. By the time he returns to you, you’re passed out. Eyes fluttered shut, chest lazily rising and falling with your breaths, Kyle finds himself stopping at the foot of your bed in awe. 

He’s glad he stopped you. 

After placing the glass on your nightstand, he folds your comforter over you as best as he can, covering your bare body. The light fabric moving across your skin stirs you awake, and your eyes flutter open just long enough to grab his hand. His heart stops as you attempt to pull him closer, and he finds himself kneeling next to your bed, utterly lured. 

“Are you staying?” you ask, not even bothering to open your eyes. 

His thumb brushes over your knuckles as he shakes his head. “Sorry, doll. Not tonight.” 

“Oh,” is all you can say. 

You fall silent again, and he stays kneeling next to you for a moment as he enjoys the feeling of your hand in his. Once he thinks you’ve fallen asleep again, he presses his lips against the back of your hand before returning it onto the mattress. Your lips curl at the sensation. 

“I love you,” you whisper. 

Those words have been in the back of your throat ever since the two of you filmed the honeymoon shoot together, and it has Kyle stopping in his tracks. He wants to stay. Everything in him screams at him to. To crawl into bed with you, to wrap you in his arms and comfort you in the morning when your hangover gets the best of you. But he can’t. He can’t even tell if this is what you truly want, or if it’s the alcohol talking. 

He swallows. 

“Love you too, doll.” 

When Kyle turns to leave, he tries not to look back. He knows it’ll destroy him if he does. Instead, he keeps a steady pace as he exits your apartment, leaving you to wake up in the morning with nothing but cold sheets and a migraine. 

[bigification]

Careful What You Wish For

I lay the cheap looking lamp on my bathroom counter as I get ready for a bath. I can't believe I caved and bought it, it's obviously a scam. This stupid lamp isn't gonna grant any wishes, that old man just got some free cash out of me. It doesn't matter, I'll just take a relaxing bath and throw on some Netflix later.

I get undressed and run some hot water into the bath. Some scented candles set the mood for relaxation, and I throw on some music. I dip myself into the warm water, and lay back.

My relaxation doesn't last long however, as a rumbling catches my attention. It's the lamp. It's vibrating with enough force that I can feel it from across the bathroom. Suddenly a purple smoke emerges from the lamp.

"I may grant you one wish." A soft whisper echoes out of the smoke.

What the actual fuck. This isn't possible. Did that guy drug me? Maybe I should just say a wish to see if it's true.

"I wish to be a more mature looking guy who likes sports." I blurt out. I've always hated how much I look like a teenager despite being a full blown adult, so this could fix that. Also I wouldn't mind being a fit guy who likes sports, it wouldn't hurt.

The moment I say it, the smoke starts to travel towards me. All the smoke spirals into my mouth and nose. I should be scared, but it kinda feels nice. A warm feeling sprouts in the core of my body, making me feel relaxed again.

As the smoke fills my body, I feel my muscles twitching. It must be true, my body is changing. My twig like arms thicken, with bulging biceps and defined forearms. My soft hands grow twice as big and fill with rough callouses. My chest puffs out into two juicy pecs and my stomach flattens into a cut six pack. My thighs thicken as I feel my ass plump up. Even my feet look like they've grown a few sizes. I also have to start bending my legs, as Ive become too tall for the bath tub I'm sitting in.

I look at my reflection in the water and see a handsome man in his late twenties. Holy shit, I'm hot! I've got a chiselled jawline with a dark beard covering it. All my features seem more angular, more manly. As I'm observing my reflection, I notice a pelt of dark hair grow all over my body. My chest, my arms, my legs, everywhere is dusted in a coat of hair.

This is everything I wanted. Even the sports. Memories of playing sports all throughout school flood my mind. I especially liked soccer, though I also really liked weight lifting. More memories of my extensive sex life flood my mind, people are almost hypnotised by my good looks.

Just as I'm reminiscing about my past, I remember I should be working out right now. I can't skimp out on my workout routine. I go to get out of the bath and notice I've got my underwear on. Huh, I must have forgotten to take it off before getting in the bath.

As I'm stepping out of the bath, something feels wrong. A warm feeling once again fills my core. I look down and see my six pack fade under a belly of fat. It continues growing until it sags over my underwear. My pecs swell into a pair of man tits, though they still have a solid base of muscle. My arms double in size, though with a soft layer of fat now covering the muscles. My hands thicken until they look like stuffed sausages, as more rough features cover them.

I feel my underwear tighten around my waist as my ass fattens. My thighs thicken until there is no gap between them, and my feet grow many sizes. I even feel my perspective shift higher, as my height increases.

The dark hairs on my body fade to an almost white colour as the hair thickens around my body. As I'm looking down at my body, I notice hair on my head fall to the ground. I look in horror at my reflection in the mirror, I have to duck just to fully see my face. My hairline recedes all the way to the back of my head, leaving me practically bald. My once sharp facial features have softened under a layer of fat. And a double chin has formed under my beard. I look so old.

Though the more I stare at my body, the more familiar it becomes. Memories flood into my mind of my career in soccer. I was a high level player, and a popular one at that. But you age out of professional soccer in your late thirties. I started focusing more on the weight lifting and less on the cardio. There was only so long I could keep that six pack, and turning 50 certainly didn't help with that. I don't mind it though, it makes me feel more manly. And it makes the team I coach more afraid of me.

I snap out of my trance. I grab a towel and start to dry off. Damn I forgot to take off my underwear again, I should get rid of this one anyway, it doesn't fit me anymore. I duck and look at myself in the mirror.

"Lookin good coach." I say as I smile at myself.

I turn to the other side of the bathroom and step on my scale. It reads '350'.

"Damn, I've really let go of myself, huh." I say as I jiggle my gut.

I also measure my height, it reads 6"6. I should have gone into volleyball with the build I had.

I dry off and leave the bathroom. I grab a family sized bag of chips and lay my fat ass down on the couch. I open the tv and it's already on the world cup. I really wouldn't want it any other way.

[chronically-ghosted]

i wonder if you stopped his world like you did mine

rating: teen

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

word count: 5K

summary: watching the woman he loves be with someone else is killing him, but for your sake, he manages. But when Benny's birthday loosens him up, he can't help but bear his soul over a phone call. Too bad you don't pick up and he's forced to leave the evidence in a voicemail.

tags/warnings: pining, light angst, idiots in love, country music as a catalyst, romance, tw alcohol, tw drinking, hangovers, ultimately very fluffy

a/n: Happy Valentine's Day @toomanystoriessolittletime! I hope you receive and give all the love you need and want! I've had this idea for a while, but once I saw that Frankie was your fave, I knew I had to do it!

one day i’m gonna do the series of all of my favorite country songs with a Pedro boy. This is one of them: Singles You Up by Jordan Davis. Had thoughts of Me and My Kind by Cody Johnson for our ever-fantastic Jack Daniels and Hurricane by Luke Combs for Joel. One day, my loves, one day. 

🤍Masterlist | Frankie Morales Masterlist

Frankie Morales has a problem.

Given the life expectancy in his line of work – all things considered – it really wasn’t that bad of a problem. Sure, his knees were busted, his shoulder aches when it was cold out, and his ex keeps hounding him for money he doesn’t have. But on the flipside, his little family unit of friends and brothers united by combat are (mostly) all alive and healthy. He has a steady job and his little girl, whom he loves and adores, thinks the sun shines out of his ass. All things considered, there’s not much else he can ask for. He’s far better off than some of the men and women at Will’s talks, or in Santiago’s field teams. 

So – really, truly, seriously – all things considered . . .  he can’t classify this as a bad problem.

In fact, this is a problem he would willingly have. Gladly even. Not quite joyously, but if it’s a choice between this problem and not having the problem at all, he will choose having this consistent, thorny, kind-of-hurts-to-breathe-sometimes problem every single time.

And right now, it’s wearing a dress.

Uh, well, you’re wearing a dress. An off-white, hinging-on-cream, dress that sits above your knees, cuts flat and wide across your chest, and puffs out into cotton sleeves that remind him of those conchas his abuela used to make. Sweet, fluffy, and absolutely forbidden. 

Until the time is right, at least. His abuela always made him wait to eat until the time was right.

He calls it – you – a problem, when in fact, it’s the opposite of a problem. There is nothing he would ever want to change about the warm, engulfing feeling that starts somewhere in his stomach and rises like conchas up his spine until it’s somewhere in his ribs, then under his breastbone, right by his –

He would kill anyone who tried to take that feeling away from him. It’s when he feels most alive, most present, most out of his head – like these things in the dark and sleeping corners of his mind that nip and bite at him can’t find him. He’s thrown them off his scent in his search for you and, even for a brief moment, he can step into the light.

There is no problem, in how you look tonight, how you look every night, with your bright shining smile, sweet-smelling hair, cowboy boots, glass of whiskey – you had such a fantastic taste in –

Wait. 

That’s not whiskey. Not even a whiskey glass. 

That’s –

“White wine?” Benny yelps as he leans forward and his chair legs clatter against the concrete floor. “If that’s Moscato, I’m calling the cops because you’ve been replaced by an equally hot body double.”

You roll your eyes as you sit down and take a long drink from your glass, as if to make a point. Frankie’s eyes are drawn to where your dress hangs over your crossed legs, exposing the curve of your thigh. 

“It’s not fucking Moscato, Benjamin,” you say, eyes narrowed, completely side-stepping his compliment, like you always do. “It’s Chardonnay. Nick recognized the vineyard on the menu so he recommended it. Thought I’d give it a try, because I like trying something new, Benjamin.”

He rolls those beautiful blue eyes and leans forward towards you at the table, that grin that brings grown women to their knees plastered across his face. He knocks back his cowboy hat with a tap of his knuckle. 

“Well, excuse the fuck outta me.”

“The fuck outta you is excused.”

You tug his hat back down over his face, smirking back at him, just as Nick saunters over – with what looks to be a wine glass of his own. 

Okay, in hindsight, you’re not the problem. 

His real fucking problem is Nick. 

Your boyfriend. 

Frankie, who has decided to only drink beer around you since The Almost Incident, takes three long pulls so he doesn’t have to watch Nick and his stupid hands slide across your exposed back and sit down in Santi’s empty chair. 

“Happy Birthday, man, thanks for inviting me out.” Nick says briefly, raising his glass to Benny. “But I gotta say, I was a little worried when my girl here said your party was gonna be at a country dance hall. I’ve never been to one of these. I had to buy cowboy boots just for the occasion.”

He sticks his leg out, and rotates his gator-skin boot back and forth as if to illustrate how important to him this whole thing is. 

But Benny doesn’t look down, doesn’t approve the boots, or Nick’s attempt at fitting in. Instead, he just smirks, his smile growing fat and lazy, a bit of the warmth fading from his blue eyes.

“Your first time at a cowboy hoe-down? I had no idea.” 

Nick grins, because he doesn’t know Benny well enough to see the dig for what it is. But you do. You know him and you know he’s ragging on your boyfriend. You narrow your eyes and shame coats Frankie’s chest. Because he knows also Benny and he knows why he’s giving Nick such a hard time.

See, the problem isn’t you, or even your boyfriend – not really. 

Nick is actually a decent guy. He treats you right, if a little delicately, but he buys you drinks, takes you places Frankie could never afford, in a car Frankie could never ever afford. Sometimes, you’ll say something, or tell a story and it’s obvious Nick doesn’t really understand you or your jokes, but he smiles along anyway. He makes good money and supposedly he keeps in touch with his mom. Nick is the kind of guy any brother would want his sister to date.

So the problem isn’t that Nick is a bad boyfriend, but that he’s your boyfriend.

The problem that Frankie Morales has is that he is painfully, achingly, in love with you.

And he’s your friend.

Maybe that would change, if he ever could work up the guts to say something. For fuck’s sake, he’s killed people – asking you out can’t be that much worse (as Santi often reminds him). But if the guys you’re into are like Nick, or even Nick-adjacent, then what fucking chance does he have? He never thought money was important to you, but apparently it is and that’s something he definitely can’t give you.

Or maybe you like the stability of a high-paying job with fucking miraculous health-care. And that’s two things more he can’t offer: stability and health-care. 

So, maybe, maybe his problem isn’t with you or Nick or the fact that Nick is your boyfriend. It’s that he never could be. He, with one failed marriage already behind him and a coke rap sheet, has nothing to give you . . .

And you deserve the world.

You deserve more than he can offer you. You deserve better than him.

That’s his real fucking problem. And one he can't ever fix.

Will couldn’t get off work to come to this, so he owed Benny a beer and a nice steak dinner – according to Benny. Santi, despite absolutely swearing up and down for a week he wouldn’t be caught dead in cowboy boots and a hat, showed up tonight in full gear, belt-buckle included because he lost a bet with Benny over the Thursday night game. Santi, like everything else in his life, researched the hell out of the two teams, their past history, older statistics of both the players and the coach. He was confident, so confident, that he put his pride on the line. 

Never a good idea with Benny Miller. 

I don’t know, Benny said at the sports bar when his team was whooping Santi’s team’s ass, I just had a good feeling. Presumably, Santi did three shots before leaving and with another two in his system at the bar, all anger and frustration and embarrassment and inhibition had melted away and now Santi was doing what Santi did best, especially when drunk: dancing with beautiful women.

“The son of a bitch can dance, I’ll give him that. ” Benny muses as the three of you watch Santi, who despite having been taught the moves three minutes ago by two gorgeous blondes, complete a perfect line dance of Copperhead Road. 

“Oh, shit, I could never do that.” Nick shakes his head. “Not even after a hundred classes.”

“Ah, I find that hard to believe, Nicky Boy. You seem like a natural,” Benny smirks over the lip of his beer bottle. He finds Frankie’s eyes and winks. 

You are not amused. You glare at him over Nick’s shoulder for the second time tonight. 

“It’s really not that hard,” you smile tightly and squeeze Nick’s shoulder. “I can teach you.” 

“Oh, yeah, don’t you know your girl here?” Benny leans back in his chair, balancing against the rung of Nick’s chair by the ball of his foot. “She used to put all of us to shame. Dancing the night away, leading the crowd in line dancing. In fact, if I remember correctly, she and Frankie used to get into all sorts a-trouble on the dance floor. Isn’t that right, Frankie?”

Now he drew a glare from you and Frankie. 

Don’t, man, just don’t. 

Benny shrugs, swallowing his smirk with another sip of beer, hands raised. Just trying to help out. 

Over the speakers, the song winds to a close and the crowd does their final spin. Across the dance floor, Santi bows, his hat sweeping the floor, to both of the girls who giggle like high schoolers. 

“I’m gonna go get Boot Scootin’ Boogie over there some water before he up-chucks all over those nice ladies.” Benny stands and fixes his hat. “You guys want anything?”

Frankie shakes his head, his own hat that Benny insisted he wear, making the line of sweat across his forehead itch. You and Nick decline as well. You’ve barely even touched your drink, Frankie notes with a certain level of satisfaction. 

As Benny walks towards the bar, the next song starts up and you let out a squeal. Bring on The Good Times has been one of your favorite songs since college. And Frankie should know – he introduced it to you. 

“This one is the best! A classic!” You grab Nick’s forearm, but he almost immediately pulls it back. 

“Ah, babe, my first line dance is not gonna be in front of strangers! I’ll embarrass you and me. Why don’t you ask Frankie?”

Fuck, why could Nick just be a raging, flaming asshole? This would be so much fucking easier. 

Frankie swallows his beer empty, an excuse for a refill prepped. He hates cowboy hats, but he’d fucking set fire to the sky for Benny – he just hopes he immolates himself in the process. The giant brim makes him feel like he’s got a neon sign over his head that blinks, I Am A Giant Dork. Only further proven if he gets anywhere near that dance floor with his two left feet. 

Your eyes are unreadable as he tries to coax your boyfriend into taking you dancing.

“Nah, man, you got this. Your girl’s a great teacher.” By some cowboy miracle, his voice is steady as he says those two words. On the table, your fingers curl in, your wine glass still untouched.

Nick makes a face, eyes flitting back and forth to the dancers as they start the dance.

“My feet are already killing me in these new boots. Besides, this isn’t really my song.”

Over his shoulder, you find Frankie’s eyes. He knows that look on you – he knows everything about you – and you’re trying to hide how hurt you are.

He’s on his feet before he knows what he’s doing.

You and Nick stare up at him, surprised by how he practically bounded to his feet. 

The sweat at the ring of his hat runs down the back of his neck. Frankie does the only thing halfway-normal and extends his hand.

“Alright, princesa, I’ll fill out your dance card.”

He doesn’t care, or even really register, the darkly confused frown Nick sends him when you stand up, take his hand, and smile at him. He feels warm all the way up to his chest. 

“Thanks, Frankie. Let’s boogie.” 

That was a mistake.

This whole fucking night is a mistake. God help him, he loves Benny like a brother but he should have just said no and promised to take him out later like Will. He would have bought Benny any drink, any ridiculous chicken wing plate he wanted if Frankie didn’t have to be here, right now. 

Because right now, right now, that wall of self-control that he uses to stem the reservoir, to stem the flow of whatever you cause to pour out of him, it’s leaking. It’s busted holes and now he’s drenched with it – with the scent of you, with the memory of hair down the length of your neck, the heat of your skin overworked and flushed, the sweet taste of your breath in his mouth when you leaned forward, into his space, his senses, and whispered,

“C’mon, Frankie, you’re a better dancer than this.”

But in his defense, he couldn’t feel his feet, much less make them move when he watched you with your skirt rucked up high in your fists, your cowboy boots kicking like fish in a stream, and that smile – that fucking smile – brighter and sweeter than all the whiskey in the world. 

C’mon, Frankie, you’re a better dancer than this

C’mon, Frankie, you’re better than this.

C’mon, Frankie, tell me you love me.

Kiss me, Frankie. Kiss me now.

His restraint, his resolve that he will never, ever have you – he can feel it throb beneath his palms. Shudder and wobble under the thundering of his heart. It’s so close to breaking. Too close. This is why he doesn’t drink anything harder than beer around you. This is why he rarely drinks around you at all. 

When Nick finally calls it a night because he’s already got a blister from the new boots, you don’t put up much of a fight. You’ve danced with Benny, you’ve danced with Santi and his gaggle of girls, Nick himself went up for a slow dance or two.

Frankie only ever asked for one. 

He knows he disappointed you, has been disappointing you because you can feel him layering you away, brick by brick by brick. One of his oldest and longest friends, barely visible now, and he’s going over it with caulk to make sure you can’t touch this fragile, weak, emaciated thing he calls a heart. 

The instant you walk out of the bar, Nick’s arm across your tense shoulders, he all but rushes for the bar. 

“Six tequila shots, please.”

You wake up where you went to sleep: curled up on your couch, your giant Florida Gators blanket wrapped around you like a mentally-supportive straight-jacket, with Golden Girls reruns on the TV. The empty bottle of 19 Crimes explains the sticky, dry feeling in your mouth and the thundering headache accompanying swollen eyes and cheeks. You’d rather get hit by a train than have to move out of this position, but Nick has always been punctual.

Which, you assume, extends to picking up his stuff from your apartment first thing in the morning, his final threat that ended your conversation last night. 

The sooner, the better, you mother fucker. 

You blindly grab around for your phone, knowing that it’s most likely shoved into the deepest cracks of your couch, hoping against hope Panera delivers on a Saturday morning. There’s a distinct possibility you might start swinging if Nick shows up before you get a baguette and a coffee into your system. 

The things he said about Benny and Santi last night on the drive home. This break up was a long time coming, but fuck, if this is what he’d been sitting on about your friends, what the fuck did he actually think of you? 

And the things he implied about Frankie – how Frankie was in love with you and you were willingly not seeing it – ridiculous.

You fight the rancid taste of hope that anything Nick implied about Frankie might even remotely be true when you close your fingers around the shape of your phone at the far end of the couch. 

22%

Just enough to order then yeet this fucking thing into another room because there is no way in hell you are answering Nick’s calls.

But, as you scroll through your notifications, maybe you should have answered Frankie’s.

He had called sporadically, starting about two hours after you and Nick had left the dance hall, all the way until four in the morning. 

One text at 1AM: com e hang out wit us.i mis s you u 

You smile, despite the obviously drunken text. Frankie rarely texted, only if it was dire need – and apparently, you continuing to party with the boys at 1AM was very, very dire. Judging by the eight missed calls.

Eight missed calls, but only one voicemail. 

Like you’re about to settle down for some good TikTok scrolling, you lean back into the pillows, rubbing your eyes to clear the hazy fog, and press play. 

First, there’s noise. Lots of it. Country music and people laughing and singing. Clearly still at the dance hall. You wish for a minute it is a video instead because you’d pay hand over fist to see those guys falling all over each other.

But then comes Santi. Over the years, you’d picked up some Spanish here and there, mostly enough not to embarrass yourself if you ever went to Miami. 

But whatever Santi is saying, you’re not entirely sure it is Spanish, or any human language. 

“Comotuamiga, teruegoqueselodigas porfavornopuedo hacerestopormucho mástiempo. Estaríasmásfeliz y ellaestaríamásfeliz. Nomemiresasí, sabesqueloúnico quequiereesqu labeses y la beses y luegohagasotrascosas – ¡Estúpido! ¿La llamaste?”

There’s a shuffling, hushed voices, the music still far too loud to make anything out.

“Déjame en paz, dude.” Frankie. Frankie, very very very drunk. “I’m gonna – I’m gonna say – voy a decirle. Ella lo sabrá. She’ll get it. I know–,”

“Then say something now because you’re leaving a voicemail!”

“Ah, mierda – um, baby?”

In two words and two filler words, Frankie’s whole demeanor changes. You can almost picture him curled around the phone, his hand cradling the phone to his ear as he rests his head against a wall. 

“Baby, listen – fuck, sorry, I’m starting all wrong. I shouldn’t even call you that – I shouldn’t call you ‘baby’ because you’re not mine. You’re not my baby or anyone else’s because you’re so fucking independent and I love that about you but I wish you were. Mine, I mean. Not a baby.”

You don’t even remember sitting up, but your feet are on the ground. You’ve dropped the phone onto the table in front of you, staring at it as if it’s been dripping poison into your ear. Your heart is pounding. 

There’s silence from Frankie for a second, the music still loud, but it’s dampened. You can hear Frankie breathing, swallow, and start again.

“You looked so fuckin’ good tonight. You look good every night but fuck, baby, that dress. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. Even for a second . . . he doesn’t tell you that you look so fucking good enough, you know? You should hear it all the time. I wanna tell you – tell you all the time – he didn’t say it once. Not once and that’s a fucking crime. He makes you drink white wine when I know you fucking hate it – I know you, baby. I know you more than I know myself because you’re all I fucking think about. You’re in here, all the time, all up in my chest, my throat, my gut – and you can have it. You can have it. You can have all of me, if you just . . .”

His voice breaks and your fingers clench around the edge of the cushion. 

“If you just . . . look, I know this is so fucking outta line and I wanna say it to your face and I’m gonna but . . . when that fuckin’ moron forgets how good he has it, I’m gonna be there. Gonna be right there. Because –,”

And then like someone shoved a speaker right up against Frankie’s phone, as clear as day, you hear Benny yell:

“IF HE AIN’T HOLDING YOU TIGHT, IF HE AIN’T TREATIN’ YOU RIGHT, I’MA BE THE FIRST ONE CALLIN’ HIM CRAAAZY–,”

“Benny, fuck off!”

And then the call drops, along with it your stomach. In fact, it slides out of your body, slouches off the couch and melts into the floor.

Oh, Frankie, do you even mean a word of it?

The hangover rubbing your nerves raw, tears spring into your eyes, the silence and fear and terrible hope tightening like a band around your head and infinitely increasing the pressure in your temples. You want to cry but your eyes already feel too puffy. 

You’re stuck, frozen by every single possible outcome or single next step spinning out like chaotic webbing you can easily catch yourself on. 

This was a mistake, it had to be. He didn’t mean to call your phone. He had accidentally called you when he meant to call another girl . . . also with a boyfriend named Nick. Frankie, sweet Frankie, who you’ve all but outright begged to take an interest in you – said it with your eyes hundreds of times – Frankie couldn’t actually have feelings for you.

Not like you had for him. Not like the ones you’ve slowly plucked out of your ribs over the years because god, even just looking at him seared a scar across your heart. 

Fuck. Fuck!

You snatch up your phone, wiping your teary eyes and frantically hoping he might have said a name or anything – he couldn’t possibly have meant you – when three loud bangs on your front door sends your phone into the air and your heart into your throat.

The way he calls your name is frantic, verging on hysterical. In a daze, you glance at the clock. 9:04. Frankie’s had about four hours of sleep, if any at all.

“Please, open the door! We gotta talk – there’s something – there’s something on your phone you shouldn’t hear – please, baby, open up –,”

You stare at the phone on your floor. 

Don’t they always say you can’t tell the moments that irrevocably change your life until after they’re gone?

Not this time.

You open the door and either way, everything changes. 

“C’mon, please, let me explain.” His voice has quieted, no longer shaking, softer as though wounded. “Just five minutes and I’m gone. I swear. We can forget the whole thing –,”

You open the door to a hungover Frankie Morales, still in the same outfit you saw him last in, but his eyes are rimmed with black circles, his patchy beard even more patchy as if he had rubbed the bristle clean off. He reeks of beer, peanuts, and cigarette smoke. His shirt is loose, wrinkled, his belt isn’t even on all the way, and he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“What if I don’t want to forget it, Frankie?”

You see the realization strike him through the eyes, the throat, the chest, his gut, his brown eyes swimming with shame and horror. He leans over as if kicked and presses a hand against your doorway. His thumb rubs the corner and he swallows.

“So you listened to it already?”

“Yeah, I did.” He closes his eyes briefly, hanging his head, every apology in every language he knows sitting right behind his teeth. “But did you hear what I said?”

He frowns at you through those thick eyebrows. “What?”

“When I opened the door, did you hear what I said?”

“You said –,” that beautiful bottom lip parts from its sensual top and Frankie blinks at you. The oily blackness of shame has evaporated from his eyes, but that stormy fear rages on. 

You inhale, breath getting caught on every knot in your spine, and step back.

“We need to talk.” 

He glances once over his shoulder, as if taking in the hallway to your apartment for the last time, and he steps inside. Immediately his height and broadness fill out every empty space in your tiny living room and you’re launched back into the memory of when the boys came over for Christmas and there was hardly enough room for anyone, but somehow you all made it work and after four rounds of DDR, everyone was so tired and drunk, you passed out pillows and blankets and you spent your first adult Christmas at what could have been mistaken for a thirteen year old’s slumber party. It was one of the happiest times of your life.

His thick fingers clench and unclench when Frankie spies your phone on the floor, like a bomb waiting to go off. 

Your brain struggles to default to hostess mode because you can’t think of anything to say.

Do you want coffee?

Do you want some cereal? 

Do you want to– 

“Tell me what happened last night.” You surprise yourself, Frankie, and your whirring brain by cutting right to it. As with the first question when you opened the door to him, there’s something inside of you that has taken on wings, spread them wide, and threatens to soar out of your body. Frankie’s here, he’s here, and he said he wants you –

He called you baby.

You breathe in, trying to scrape up some courage from the bottom of your lungs, wishing in the back of your mind under everything else that you’d chosen literally anything else to go to bed in than your Tweedie Bird shirt from Six Flags. 

“I don’t understand, Frankie. Please help me understand.” 

With a monumental sigh, he rubs his wide hand across his face and up into his hair, his other hand lifting his cap up off his head so his fingers can dig into his curls. It’s only then that you realize Benny’s cowboy hat he wore last night is gone and his tried and true Standard Oil ball cap is back. Meaning he must have gone home at some point. When did he realize (or remember) that he’d left you that voicemail? 

“I’m gonna get my ass kicked,” he murmurs, eyes darting like a fox to your bedroom door. “Maybe that’s exactly what I deserve.”

“He’s not here.” This great thing arcs between you, the emptiness a presence and clarity all at the same time. 

“What do you mean? Where is he?”

“We broke up.”

“When? Why?”

“Last night, after we left the bar. We got into an argument. He doesn’t like the way . . .”

Frankie – physically, mentally, emotionally, fundamentally – overwhelms you. He’s across the room in an instant, closer than you think he’s ever been before. But maybe this is the first and only time you’ve ever allowed yourself to enjoy it. Revel in his closeness and let this caged feeling in your chest break free. You touch his chest with the flat of your palm, the size of it, the breadth of him, staggering. You literally feel weak at the knees. 

“He doesn’t like the way what?” His voice luxuriates in his throat – warm, deep. He sounds like what you imagine a hot spring feels like against your skin.

“He didn’t like the way I looked at you.” Your fingers make circles where they did into his shirt. His hands have found their way, after all this time, to your waist. “The way I always look at you, Frankie.”

His breath, subsequent to the ghost of his lips, across your forehead is so gentle it makes you close your eyes, to block out one sense to encourage another. 

You feel him swallow even though he’s a foot away from you.

“Why –,” he stops, and starts again, just like on the phone call, “why do you look at me . . . when you have him?”

“Oh, Frankie.” His grip on your waist tightens as if you’re about to disappear forever. “I took him because I can’t have you.” 

You blame the tears on the hangover, the headache, and the way he takes your chin between his thumb and knuckle. 

Grateful.

He’s looking at you, eyes soft, mouth curved into a disbelieving smile, with gratitude. 

“He’s the furthest thing from you because I tried to get you out of my system – I did – I promise. I can’t lose our friendship, Frankie, but it’s killing me . . . not having you. Nick said it was obvious the way I felt about you and that was a problem for our relationship, so he tried to make me choose between you and him and every time, without a doubt, I’ll always choose–,”

This is the right time, he supposes. 

Hand over your cheek, he holds you still in silence to press his mouth to yours. The final word of your sentence dies on his tongue, muffled by a soft groan of surprise. Your breath is terrible, your skin is oily and damp, he knows he stinks like the bottom of a wet bar, but he can’t find himself to care. Your mouth opens to take him and the hand on your cheek sinks to your neck as you both move past the initial shock of I’m finally getting to do this and you’re not pulling away and into an actual, proper, deep kiss that sends sparks into his toes. Your tongue marks the bottom of his mouth, your arms going around his neck like you want more – you need more – and Frankie pulls back.

Not only because he’s slightly dizzy but because he a) won’t fuck you for the first time on your living room floor and b) absolutely will not do it hungover. 

“Breakfast. Do you like . . . uhm, breakfast?” He can’t quite focus on a single spot on your face, eyes half-lidded and gaze blurred.

You giggle, letting his beard tickle your nose as you sneak your face into his neck. He sways a bit with you, his arms around your back, and you don’t think he’s even realizing what he’s doing.

“Yes, Frankie. I like breakfast. I eat it almost every day, in fact.”

He grunts, neck suddenly flushed, embarrassed. “Sorry, I mean –,”

“I know what you mean, baby.” You lean back and run your fingers through the thatch of curls at the back of his neck. Both of you are so grimy but you can’t care. “I’d love breakfast.”

Frankie smiles his Frankie smile and the thing in your chest is illuminated in gold. 

“How do you feel about conchas?” 

Translations:

Como tu amiga, te ruego que se lo digas. Por favor, no puedo hacer esto por mucho más tiempo. Estarías más feliz y ella estaría más feliz. No me mires así, sabes que lo único que quiere es que la beses y la beses y luego hagas otras cosas. = As your friend, I beg you to tell her. Please, I can't do this for much longer. You would be happier and she would be happier. Don't look at me like that, you know all she wants is for you to kiss her and kiss her and then do other things.

¡Estúpido! ¿La llamaste? = Idiot! Did you call her?

Déjame en paz. Voy a decirle. Ella lo sabrá. = Leave me alone. I am going to tell her. She will know.

[eroticnoices]

euphoria.

parring: weed!dealer!colby brock x afab!reader

warnings: language, pet names: princess, babe. smoking, female oral receiving, dry humping, unprotected sex, dirty talk, choking, spit swallowing, dacryphilia, degrading kink if you squint, praise kink.

synopsis: having a hot dealer has its perks.

it’s always known you should never fall for your dealer. no matter how strong that feeling of desire, or connection is.

maybe it was stupid of me.

but i don’t regret it.

“Y/N, this is colby.” one of my friends; Jake. introduced me to this guy dressed in all black. i give him a small smile and he nods his head to me, as he sips his drink. “he’s got what you want.” Jake tapped my shoulder before waving off to probably where ever Johnnie was.

i took a sip of my punch before speaking to colby. “you sell right?” i try to raise my voice enough so he could hear me. he tilted his head leaning in to hear me. “yeah.” he nodded. “whatcha want?” he shifted his body slightly towards me, as people walked by us.

he motioned for me to follow him.

it felt a little odd to follow a random hot guy you meet at a party. but i was desperate okay?

i nod, following close behind him as we make our way outside to his car. “just get in the front, i got my shit in the back.”

i slide into the passenger seat. his car was way nicer than i expected. really clean too. it even smelled good; a mix of cedar wood and weed.

i watch colby as he subtly grabs something from his trunk and opens the driver side door. he slid into the seat and held a quarter of weed. “this good?” he shifted in his seat, making his legs spread wider.

my eyes shifted to his manspreading but blinked the thought out of my head, before nodding. “mhm.” i tried not to seem to excited but with the way he smiled at me made me think otherwise.

“just give me 35.” my head tilted at his words. “i have 45 on me, i can pay full.” colby laughed. “nah, princess. 35. i don’t need your money. just take it.” he places the weed baggie in my lap.

i took out 40 and tucked it in his cup holders. “wanna smoke?” i grinned at him holding up the baggie. colby rolled his eyes and smiled.

“you’re lucky i got papers.” he reached over my legs and opened the glove box taking out his raw wraps. i didn’t miss how his hand slightly grazed over my knee when he did so. “no filter though.” i shrugged and handed him the weed.

soon after he rolled up the joint, we were already a few puffs in and i started to get giggly. i smiled at him hazily. “you’re pretty, y’know.” colby blurted out after blowing the smoke in my face.

i felt my face bloom with redness.

i was never good with compliments.

i put my hand up over my smile and a giggle. “psh, thank you.” colby smiled and shifts forward to move my hand away from my mouth to see my smile.

my real smile.

“don’t hide.” colby still remained close to me. i didn’t realize how close he was to me till he turned to put the joint down, on the ashtray he had put on the dashboard.

i licked my lips, in a daze about everything that had to do with how handsome colby was looking right now.

maybe it was the weed, or the lack of intimacy. but i needed him.

as soon as he turned his face back to mine, i grabbed his face and pulled him in to meet my lips.

i kissed him with fire and neediness. his tongue making rounds around mine. “get over here.” he mumbled between kisses, tugging me over the center console and onto his lap.

his dick loud and proud as i slid into his lap. “fuck..” i whimpered feeling him grind up into me. nothing but my underwear between us, due to my dress.

“yeah? you like that?” he smirked doing it again, this time bumping my clit when he did it. “fuck i need to be inside you.” colby grunted pushing me back into the back seats, my boobs slipping out slightly. He bit his lip watching my chest bounce.

“fuck, you’re so gorgeous.” he smiled down at me, placing his jean clad thighs underneath my spread legs, giving him a clear view of my red laced thong; that was soaked in my sweet juice.

i blushed at his moving hands, that worked their way down my hips and under my dress. “can i touch you, babe?” he looked up at me with red eyes and dilated pupils. i eagerly nodded at him my hips shifting up to help him tug off my panties, that were now causing me uncomfortability.

“hm?” he slid his finger between my folds slightly pulling down my thong, before snapping it back against my clit; making me cry out. “please fuck me.” i tugged off my thong on my own throwing it behind me; it landing towards the back window.

anyone that walked by could easily see us. but at this point..

colby smirked practically ripping off his belt, and shoving down his pants; barely making it past the second button on his jeans. “oh trust me, princess. i’m gonna do more than that.” he pulled my hips up, sliding his girth into me without a warning, in one push. “h-holy fuck!” i arched my back, my hands flying to the window and his shoulder.

he chuckled, sliding out of me before sliding right back in. “fuck.. you’re still so tight for me.” he bent down to kiss my jaw, sloppy kisses trailing down my chest to my boobs.

i whimpered feeling his dick kiss my spongey sweet spot. he looked up at my through his lashes, still sucking and kissing on my slightly exposed breast. “making me feel so good, babe.”

i looked down at him, my hand snaking around his neck and into his hair. he smirked, noticing how i clinched around him. his pace speeding up; his beautiful tip hitting my g spot every time. colby lifted his head, wrapping his hand around my throat, slightly pulling me up to meet his hips.

“oh fu-fuck!” a broken moan slips from my horse throat. the pleasure being almost too much for me. he took that as a sign to go harder, he pulled my face closer to his, gripping my jaw tightly, making my mouth open slightly.

colby spit on my tongue, making my eyes roll and back arch. i shut my mouth swallowing immediately. “fuck.” he grunted. “you’re such a fucking slut for me. i fuckin’ love it.” his hips slamming into me making my head hit the door.

the pleasure being too much for me, i didn’t even feel it. “sh-shiitttt… m’ gonna cum!” i gasped, clawing at his back, tears streaming down my face, colby kissed my cheek, the tip of his tongue sliding over my salty tears. “sh, t’s okay…” he whispered gently. his finger circling my clit, “fuckin’ cum for me, princess. need it.” he smiled up at me, studying my face as i came.

my wetness, spraying on his backseats, and his knees when colby pulled out, cumming on my lower stomach. “shit..” he panted. “you gotta keep buying from me.”

[peachdues]

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA — NSFW ALPHABET

sneek peak

A first look at my NSFW alphabet headcanons for the man, the myth, the legend himself. Enjoy my brain rot. MDNI.

A — aftercare

Contrary to popular belief, this man’s aftercare is immaculate. He was an elder brother to five other siblings, he’s a natural caretaker. You need water? It’s already in a glass, with ice, sitting on a coaster on the bedside table. A bath? Baby, he has already scooped you up and is carrying you to his private bath — do you want bath oils or a bathbomb? He’s got a full stock of both.

The rougher he was, the more gentle he is afterwards; though don’t get me wrong, man is affectionate as HELL. He’s nuzzling you, kissing up your spine or your neck, and holding you close to him, fingers trailing gently up and down your back. He’s not fucking you unless he’s in love with you, and since he’s in love with you, he’s going to make sure you know it.

(B) — body part

Um, you? Asking Sanemi to pick his favorite body part on you will make him short circuit because he literally is obsessed with all of you.

That said, the man is particularly partial to your thighs, your stomach, and your boobs. Really, he loves any soft part of you because he loves how your body contrasts with his own, and it brings him a great deal of happiness to just bury his face (or his teeth) into you and relax.

On him, Sanemi loves his chest (it’s canon) because he’s proud of his muscles. He also loves his arms, because they’re capable of holding you in whatever way either of you want, and he loves to touch you ALL the time.

He won’t admit it, but he’s also quite proud of his ass; it’s so firm and pert and you can never stop yourself from smacking it whenever you walk by, and the small possession/admiration in that simple move makes him puff out those delectable pecs in pride.

(C) — cum

Sanemi Shinazugawa is no stranger to tragedy, but the saddest goddamn thing in the world to him is his cum anywhere else but stuffed inside your pussy.

And really, how could you blame him? The man just wants you to know — to carry a constant reminder — that you’re his, so really, how could you expect anything different? That said, Sanemi isn’t doing anything without your explicit consent, so if you ask him to pull out, he’s going to — but he’s going to be the slightest bit disappointed if you do.

Once you let him fill you up, however, good luck trying to peel him off of you — because you’ve unleashed a beast that cannot and will not be tamed. He sees a small dribble of his seed leaking out of you? He’s fucking another load right back into you, the fuck do you think you’re trying to pull, letting him go to waste like that?

And only when you’re stuffed full — so impossibly full that you cannot keep any more of him inside, will he cum on your stomach or chest. But be warned — he’s still stuffing his fingers into your cunt to hold as much of him as he can inside you.

dividers from @/hitobaby

[fuctacles]

<<5 | 6 | 7>>

The relief Eddie feels when Steve agrees to stay is almost like a drug itself. He still rolls a joint for each of them, of course. 

The movie is just as bad as Gareth promised, and Eddie finds himself looking at Steve almost as much as he does at the screen. With just a few puffs in, he's loose-limbed and relaxed, chuckling at the more ridiculous of the director's choices. It's a little terrifying that they know how blood looks from their own experience, but they try not to think about it right now. 

The movie is slowly coming to an end, when Eddie notices Steve's eyes drooping. He doesn't feel as tired himself, the adrenaline of their encounter fighting with his weed tolerance, but he imagines it took a lot of stress from Steve to come here. He's glad he could provide his friend with a safe space and comfort to finally relax. He plucks the almost finished joint out of his hand and Steve only blinks at him sleepily. 

"It's okay man, you can sleep here," Eddie reassures him while snuffing the joint out. "I can play you the end tomorrow."

Steve makes a noise that sounds like agreement and wraps the borrowed flannel shirt (double borrowed, since eons ago it used to be Wayne's) tighter around himself. 

Eddie watches him settle against the back of the couch and wonders what he can do to make this man feel loved and wanted. How he can overwrite whatever cruel thoughts the world has taught him. For now, all he can do is reach for the blanket on the back of the couch and hand it to Steve, who gratefully pulls it over himself. 

====

The memories of going to sleep are hazy, but slowly Eddie comes to while scratching the dog sleeping next to him. He hums in contentment, happy to wake up close to a warm body, even if it's just a pet. He nuzzles against its nape while scratching along its spine, his senses slowly clearing up. 

"I'm gonna go make breakfast," he says eventually. "I better see human Steve in the kitchen before I'm done."

Despite how cozy the bed is, he steps over the dog, whose tail pats loudly against the mattress. Eddie eyes him, unamused. 

"I'm serious. Only humans are getting scrambled eggs on my watch."

Twenty minutes later, he's happy to see Steve sitting at his kitchen table, dressed in the same sweatpants from last night. His chest is bare, but he'll let it slide this time. He picks up a mug from the cupboard. 

"How do you take your coffee, buddy?"

Both of them freeze. 

Eddie lets out an awkward cough, pouring coffee into the mug. 

"Sorry about that. Force of habit I guess. Uh, milk?"

"Yes, please." Steve nods so Eddie leaves enough space in the mug to pour in some milk. "No sugar."

Eddie nods, and he can feel Steve's stare on his back. 

"I don't mind," he says, and Eddie whips around to stare at him. "You calling me that. It's nice."

Eddie hums, adding milk to the coffee.

"Yeah?" He cocks his head, handing him the mug. "Here you go, buddy. Enjoy," he says and reaches out to scratch the back of Steve's head. 

He doesn't back down, even when he realizes what he's doing, and he can see that Steve reacts just as instinctually, leaning his head into the touch. But then he jolts away.

"Fuck, sorry."

Eddie frowns. 

"Don't be sorry. You're my friend, just like the dog. I can scratch you a bit."

Steve doesn't look convinced. He sips on his coffee to focus his attention elsewhere. 

"It's good, thank you," he says, licking his lips. "Shouldn't you be keeping an eye on the pan?"

"This conversation isn't over, Harrington!" Eddie declares, skipping back to the stove. Thankfully, he has a habit of making his eggs on a low fire so they turn out as creamy as possible. Scrambled eggs were the only thing in his life he was able to find patience for. 

"Any plans for today?" he asks later as he sets the plates for Steve and himself. He pours them both more coffee, remembering to add milk to Steve's. He smiles at him thankfully. 

"Not really," he shrugs. It looks like he's trying to find the right words without incriminating himself too much, so Eddie patiently waits for his next words. "All I've been doing lately is walking around the dog park, so..." he trails off.

He's implying that it's all been dog-Steve lately, human-Steve making no plans to hang out with his friends or go on dates. Eddie feels like it's his mission to change that. For whatever reason. 

"We could start preparing for the end-of-summer party," he offers. "Make a grocery list and shit and go shopping."

"It's almost a month from now," Steve points out.

"Good, plenty of time for planning."

Steve just stares at him over the rim of his mug. 

"Robin was going to help me," he says in the last-ditch attempt at being difficult. 

Eddie raises his palms.

"And I'm not stepping on her toes, but you gotta spread your friend circle a bit, man. The more the merrier."

Steve sips on his coffee, thinking about Eddie's offer. Eventually, he nods. 

"Okay. Do you have something to write on?"

Tags: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-waggie @samsoble @croatoan-like-its-hot

@dragonmama76 @storyranger @scoops-aboy86

[emmyrosee]

Leaning against the wall, you let a deep breath out as the bass of music thumps in your temples, your lips taking a sip of the too strong drink that was made too quickly so you could tuck yourself against said wall.

Suguru told you to scram. This was you doing just that.

There’s minimal you wouldn’t give to be back in his arms, curled up under some covers while he lets his long fingers trace down your spine. The smell of his post-shower warmth enveloping you in the safest feeling, his skin mixing with yours.

You take a sip of your drink, hands placed over the top carefully, and it doesn’t take long before you feel the eyes of a snake settling on your body.

“You just gonna stare at me, or are you going to make a move?” You snap, and he stiffens at your words before melting back into intoxication.

“Sorry… you just look really good tonight,” he slurs, shuffling towards you. You wonder if, somewhere, Suguru knows you’re uncomfortable with this. If he feels it down his spine.

“So I don’t look good all the time?” You say.

“You look especially good tonight.”

“Mhmm.”

Once again, he lets his eyes glaze over you hungrily, predator to prey, but you’re unphased by the way he shambles closer to you, practically drooling.

Pig.

“What’re you even doing here?” He slurs, and you scoff.

“Am I not allowed to come to a party I’ve heard about? There’s no crime in that. Besides,” you lower your eyes to be closer to his, and he whines in his throat. “How could you’ve met me if I didn’t show up?”

“Nah,” he snickers. “You’re Geto’s piece. I’m not gonna hit nothin’.”

You roll your eyes, “I’ve never been anyone’s piece. I’m a free fucking person, whoever was in my past doesn’t dictate my life.”

The man snorts and nuzzles his head against your shoulder, “you’re funny.”

“Oh, I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

He lifts his head up to blink his glazed eyes at you, and you gently grip his chin to assert any dominance you could muster.

He didn’t kiss like Suguru. Suguru kisses you like every time was the first time, desperate and warm as it swirls through your body and mouth. He kisses like the first rain of summer and first snow of winter, like cookies on the holidays made by someone you miss.

This man tears your lips up with no remorse, no shame in how he may be making you feel. He tastes like pot and liquor, like bad decisions and hangover and heartbreak.

He’s not half as sweet as Suguru is.

It doesn’t take long before there’s a massive hand on your shoulder tugging you back and away from the man, whose eyes widen in fear.

You, merely, step back and let the action unfold.

Poor thing, he doesn’t stand a shot against Suguru’s fist bashing against his bottom jaw, sober and full of rage and fire and venom. At the drama, the party breaks up to watch everything unfold, the man now passed out on the floor with blood seeping from his nose.

Suguru waves his hand to melt away the sting, “you know I’m not a big fan of parties.”

You shrug and step over the man, not bothering to help whoever the four people were that were trying to help him wake up. Suguru’s footsteps are close behind, nothing urgent in their strides and steps.

You guide him to a quiet area outside, where the other party goers had no idea he just completely spun someone’s jaw around. You lean against the wall, and he lights a cigarette to calm down.

“Your hand is bleeding.”

“What’re you doing here?” He asks, ignoring your words. “We get into a fight and you come to a sleazy party where you know no one or nothing?”

You stand up straighter, “you told me you didn’t care what I do.”

“And you told me you never wanted to see me again. Guess we both got listening problems.”

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest, just wanting to go home and go to bed in the coldness of your own sheets alone. It’s been a long night, ruined by a man who swore to love you no matter what.

“Hey,” he says, letting out a puff of smoke. “Look at me.”

“I don’t want to,” you snap.

“I said,” a hand reaches to pin you to the house behind you, smoke and adrenaline in his scent, like a beast who’s ready to stop the prey fighting back. “Look at me.”

“What, are you going to hit me too?”

“Don’t even joke about that.”

“You’re a monster.”

“And you’re in love with me,” he says flatly. He grips your chin in a mammoth hand, cheeks pursing out slightly from the feeling. “I can smell it on you.”

Tears swell your waterline, bubbling and threatening to roll if you don’t gain composure and confidence fast.

“Who cares If i do?”

“I do.”

The prettiest face in the world leans in to kiss you like only he can; sweet and soft but with enough dominance to have your knees collapsing under the weight of standing without his help. There’s a heat brewing in the base of your stomach, arms hooking around his neck to keep steady, and you whine against him as his hands slip to roam down your back. You let out a small snivel, then the tears boulder down your hot cheeks as he only slips his tongue deeper, like a hungry beast.

You hate him. God, you wish you could quit him, never see him and his overwhelming love for you again.

You part softly with a small pant, letting his eyes roam your face as he looks at you, like you had sewn the stars in the sky and hung the moon by hand.

His still bleeding hand comes up to nudge your lip, and you bite your bottom, swollen lip gently.

“Maybe I do love you,” you whimper against his finger.

He smirks and wipes a tear from your cheek.

“I know, baby.”

——-

Tagging you 🥺 @reverie-starlight @wolffmaiden @thoreeo @aliensknowmyillusions @tutuwusworld @lavishcherie @sassycheesecake @cheolattes @rrairey @unknownspecies

[livingformintyoongi]

heeeeeeeeeyaaaaaaaaa

my idea: hate sex, enemies to lovers???

pairing: jungkook and yn

yn and jk have been in the same friend group since highschool, but they could never stand eachother (he always pranked her, would't say bully, but hasn't been exactly nice to her either)

she always stood silent, until one day she just gets fed up and starts arguing back, he might tell her 'oh shut up!' and she could say 'make me' and you know...the rest is history hahaha

The best way to shut someone up

a/n: This is my second order from Jungkook. This is the second time reader ends up being more dom than Jungkook lol. I'm not really sure if it counts as hate sex, I just got carried away for the moment 😣. warnings: Semi-public sex (they're in an alley in the middle of the night), reader is a bit dominant (sorry, I'm a natural dom!reader with Jk), Jungkook has a weakness for reader's brute attitude, unprotected sex, reader is 2 years older than Jk, hair pulling. wc: 2.4k

"Every day I'm more and more impressed by the horrible taste you have" whispered Jungkook, leaning against the same wall you were leaning against.

You had to take your drink in one shot just to keep from hitting his face. It worked a little, but you'd be lying if you said the urge was completely gone. You tried to remind yourself that you’re older than him, you should keep your composure and ignore the fact that he was being a son of a bitch to you, had you ever done anything to make him treat you this way? Before he came to the group you didn't even talk, god, you didn't even know he existed before Taehyung dragged him to your group after you met at an art workshop, then why was he so nasty?

"Seriously, how could you pick that dress? It's hideous" he shook his head, taking a sip of his drink. It was his turn to drive today, so he couldn't afford to drink alcohol.

"Well, it's not like I got dressed thinking about whether you'd like it or not either, my life doesn't revolve around you, you know?" you turned to look at him, grimacing as you felt the smoke from his cigarette hit your face. You forced your brain to count to ten.

"That doesn't take away from the fact that you look hideous, you should take it off," Jungkook turned to you, staring at you. He brought his cigarette to his lips and took a long puff, blowing the smoke in your face. 

"Okay, I've had enough," you stood in front of him, crossing your arms over your chest, "either start treating me with the minimum respect given to a person, or deal with the consequences."

"And what consequences could come to me if I don't obey you?" he stubbed out his cigarette on the wall behind him, letting the butt fall to the floor. He walked over to you, coming face to face with you, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

If he thought you would be intimidated by this he was very wrong. 

"I don't know, maybe a kick in the balls will finally make you shut the fuck up" you growled, mentally preparing yourself to leave him for at least five minutes on the floor trying to endure the pain he would have in his crotch. 

"Fuck, that sounds really exciting" he whispered as his hands formed fists at his sides.

You went blank for a few seconds, wondering for a moment if you had misheard. "What did you say?" you looked at Jungkook, slightly surprised.

Jungkook's eyes widened, his unpleasant countenance quivering slightly, "Did I say it out loud?"

"You were thinking it?" you frowned, beginning to question if you had actually just told him that you were going to kick him in the balls until he stopped saying shit about you and how you dressed. 

"No?" he turned back to that expression he'd been looking at you with since you'd met him. How you hated it. You seriously felt like deforming his face right now. "Why the fuck would I say that?"

"I never repeated what you said, I just asked what you said" you raised your eyebrows. If there was one thing you hated more than idiots, it was idiots who treated you like a liar.

"Shut your mouth" he frowned, moving closer to you. Your chests were now barely brushing against each other, and the heels you were wearing allowed you to be almost at Jungkook's height, so your noses were also millimeters away from meeting. You wanted to ignore the fact that his lips were also menacingly close to yours.

"Make me" you raised your head. This idiot would never intimidate you, ever.

"If that's what you want" he whispered as he shrugged his shoulders, grabbing your neck with his right hand and pulling you towards him until his lips met yours. 

You were totally unprepared for this. There were hundreds of scenarios in your head about what Jungkook could have done to silence you, like covering your mouth with his hand, or shoving some snack in it, things like that, but a kiss? That never crossed your mind.

The sound of glass shattering against the floor echoed in the middle of the alley just as Jungkook pressed his left hand against your waist, pulling you even closer to him. Your bodies were now completely glued together. Jungkook ran the tip of his tongue over your lips, moaning softly at the taste of your lip gloss against his tongue.

He was taken by surprise that you allowed him entrance to your mouth, just as he was surprised that you ran your hands around his neck, pulling him closer to you. He expected you to punch him in the face and tell him he was a sick fuck, to get away from you or you would call the police, anything but accept his kiss and allow him to kiss you. He was really grateful for this.

Once his tongue was inside your mouth, he took the time to explore your mouth properly, he had waited too long for this moment and needed to feel it was real. That excuse he made to himself as he lowered his hand to your ass and gave it a light squeeze. 

He moaned as he felt your hand tangle in his hair and pull him hard enough to separate his lips from yours. Somehow or other that turned him on even more. He really loved your attitude.

"What do you think you're doing?" you whispered into his neck. He was bound to look down at you in this position. He loved the look you were bringing at that moment, as well as the irregular movement of your chest due to the kiss you had just given each other. He could tell he wasn't the only one excited about what was happening.

"You asked me to shut you up" he took your wrist, pulling it away from his hair and closer to his lips. He left a trail of kisses up your arm until he stopped at your shoulder. He really didn't think what he had said earlier was true, the dress looked great on you, and he actually worried when you walked out into the alley outside the bar alone. If someone came up to you and did something to you... he didn't know if he would be able to control himself.

Although on second thought, he told himself, that was just what was happening right now. At least he could defend himself by saying that you hadn't rejected his kiss.

"I was just obeying, Noona" he whispered into your neck, letting out a teasing chuckle as he noticed your head being pushed aside to give him more space. 

"I don't understand how this would help me shut up," you replied, slipping your hand under Jungkook's jacket and stopping at his waist. He seriously had a beautiful waist.

"Well, let me show you" he buried his teeth in the space where your neck and shoulder met, leaving a mark on your skin that he would be tremendously proud of when others saw it. He slipped one of his hands under your dress, brushing your center over your underwear. His cock stirred inside his briefs as he heard you moan softly. He had never heard you make that sound before. Now it was his favorite.

One part of you refused to accept how good the touch of Jungkook's fingers felt on your core, the other was too focused on the knot that was starting to form in your stomach to pay attention to who it was that was provoking that feeling in you. You decided to go for the second one, then you would martyr yourself thinking about the stupid thing you were doing.

"I want to feel what your pussy is like so badly, can I stick my fingers in?" whispered Jungkook into your shoulder, too focused on leaving marks on your neck to notice anything else that was going on around you.

"Don't ask, just do it" you growled in your slightly deeper voice than usual. Jungkook shivered slightly at the sound of you. That tone of voice would be his undoing, and he was more than willing to accept it. 

He pushed your underwear aside, feeling his mouth go dry as he noticed how wet you already were. He was proud to have had this effect on you. You could hate him with all your soul, but you still desired him physically, just as he desired you.

He gently pushed his index and middle fingers inside you, using his thumb to slowly and torturously play with your clitoris. You both moaned at the same time, he, from how tight and wet your pussy was, you from feeling his fingers enter you as he teased your clit. His fingers were doing a wonderful job.

"Amazing, you're so much tighter than I thought" he whispered, pulling your dress up to your waist so he could watch as his fingers moved in and out of you at a steady pace. He swallowed saliva at the sight, using your free hand to rub your cock over your pants. 

"Let me do it" you removed his hand from his pants, quickly unbuttoning them and slipping your hand inside them to rub his cock wrapped around his boxers. Jungkook gasped at the sensation of your cool hand on his member. You weren't even touching him directly yet and he already felt in heaven.

Jungkook rested his forehead on your shoulder, letting his fingers begin to make faster lunges as he returned the favor you were doing him by, if nothing else, rubbing his cock over his clothes. You almost screamed when he curved his fingers inside you, bumping into your G-spot. 

"Is that it? Does it feel good to be touched in that place?" he pulled away from your shoulder a little, resting his forehead against yours. Once he noticed that you didn't plan to answer him, he rammed his fingers into that spot again, this time increasing the force of the onslaught. The shit-eating grin he had put on as he noticed how you trembled every time he touched that spot would not be taken off by anyone. 

"Take your hand away," you said with a slight frown, squeezing his cock by way of threat. Jungkook quickly obeyed, pulling his fingers out from inside you and watching as your hand traveled to the elastic that held his briefs in place. 

He gasped as he felt the cold air hit his sensitive member, or perhaps it was because he was turned on by the sight of you unabashedly pulling out his cock and groping it, squeezing his balls and rubbing his slit. You were exactly what he thought you would be like in sex.

"Who knew Jungkookie would have such a nice cock" you laughed softly, squeezing the base of his member, noticing how preseminal fluid was starting to ooze out of his slit. You ran your thumb over the tip, taking the liquid into your mouth and licking it off. 

Jungkook moaned at the sight. He never thought you would taste his cum like that. 

"Always acting so nasty every time we're together, was it because you were desperate to fuck me?" you commented teasingly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He just nodded quickly, resting his hands on your hips. You looked so beautiful that for a second he completely forgot that you were in a seedy alley, outside a bar where all his friends were enjoying.

"Okay" You moved towards the wall that faced your back, Jungkook followed you without even questioning you. His hands were clinging to your hips, and he refused to let go. "Then fuck me the fuck up and stop acting like a motherfucker."

It took him a while to process what you had just said, but as soon as he got the message he lifted you up by your thighs and leaned you against the wall, resting his hand behind your head to keep the brick from hurting you. 

"Fine" he nodded quickly, taking his cock in his free hand and rubbing it against your middle. 

You had to bite your tongue to keep from screaming as you felt Jungkook thrust in. It felt really good to have his member in your pussy. It's not like you were going to tell him out loud.

"Fuck, so tight" he growled against your lips, kissing you messily. Jungkook was sure this would happen again, so he would no longer take the time to enjoy the kiss.

The knot in your belly grew tighter and tighter as Jungkook rammed hard against your insides, causing your back to hit the brick of the wall. It was painful, but the pleasure was enough to make you forget the pain completely. 

"You feel so good" Jungkook nuzzled your neck, taking his time to kiss and lick your bottom lip. He grunted on this very one as he felt your pussy clench on his cock before his words. "Shit, if you keep doing that you'll make it hard to hold back, you know?".

"The night is long" you hummed, resting your head on Kook's hand, closing your eyes and letting barely audible moans escape, "we can always leave and pay for a hotel."

You felt Jungkook's cock contract inside you at the thought. There was nothing he wanted more in this world than to spend the whole night fucking you. "So it's okay if I cum?" he looked up, trying to meet your gaze.

You grabbed his hair, tugging lightly on it. "If you don't I'll be really mad at you, and believe me, you really don't want me to be upset for the rest of the night" you whispered, tightening your grip on his hair. 

Jungkook moaned at the action, beginning to quicken the pace of his thrusts, as well as the force he applied to them.

You bit your lower lip as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten tighter and tighter as his lunges grew deeper and deeper. Despite having done that with the intention of keeping quiet, you almost screamed as you felt his cock collide with your G-spot, squeezing Jungkook harder.

That was enough for him to come to his release, without ceasing to move his hips against yours. You came moments later, just as he leaned his head against yours, letting the last spurt of his cum spurt out inside you.

"So," he whispered between gasps, brushing the hair back from his forehead, "what hotel are we supposed to go on to?"

Masterlist.

[kissitbttr]

eddie earns his first blowjob from his mean cheerleader girlfriend

warning: 18+, oral receiving, insecure eddie,

a/n: this was requested but i lost the ask lmao, enjoy. also not really that filthy xx

-

sex has never been his forte,

sure he jerks himself off and has a pile of porn magazines stacked underneath his bed but never actually experienced… sex.

girls aren’t exactly lining up to be getting dicked down by him. not when you’re the town freak. if anything, they avoid him like a plague. the only time girls want to be around eddie is just so that he can give them free greens and nothing else. he’s not stupid, he can tell what their true intentions are.

so when y/n came into his life. he has no idea what to expect. obviously, she’s far more experienced and skilled when it comes to it and it makes him feel slightly insecure. and jealous too. because he knows all of her exes were handsome jocks who probably scored more than twenty girls in their lives. no doubt that they had given her so much pleasure than he could possibly offer.

he wants to make her feel good. he really does.

“so, steve and robin gave me these” she pulls up two DVDs and show them to him. “evil dead and carrie. which one do you like best?”

he cocks an eyebrow, eyes switching between the two films. “i thought you wanted chick flicks or something like that?”

she shrugs, deciding to put evil dead on the player. “horror movies make me horny. and what better way to watch it than with my favorite man, hm?”

he chuckles nervously when she shoots him a wink and a smile. flirtatious one. “usually girls get horny when they see porn. but oh, not you. pretty fucked up if i might say.”

“you love it” she responds, crawling beside him as they both lay comfortably on her bed. “how’s your day, baby”

he puffs out a long exaggerated breath. “kind of shit, ms.O'Donnell been up my ass about the last assignment. she wanted me to re-do it.”

“aw that sucks” she pouts, running her fingers through his hair. “want me to beat her up for you?”

“no, i’m good” he laughs, not wanting her to do something that’ll damage her academics. the thing is about y/n, when she says something along the lines of ‘beating someone up’ you better not take it lightly.

because she will do it.

“too bad. I’d love to see her blood pouring out of those nostrils.” she sighs, plopping her head down on his chest as she hooks her leg with his. his arm wraps around her body protectively. “the offer still stands.”

“hey, enough of that would ya?” he kisses the crown of her head, smiling to himself. “as sexy as it is to see you get violent, the consequences will be ten times worse if you punch a teacher.”

“just gotta wait till graduation then.” she innocently replies, finger drawing circles on his chest.

halfway through the movie, eddie is trying his best to keep his focus on the plot. but she’s making it so hard for him to do so. she continuously shifts her weight on him, ‘accidentally’ brushing against his hard shaft with an innocent ‘oops’ every time she does it.

they’ve been together for almost a month and he hasn’t gotten used to the effect she has on him. it’s frustrating how he can’t control his thoughts and clammy palms whenever she puts her hands on his body.

“you okay?” she wonders, looking up at him with her doe eyes and playful smile. “you feel so tense, teddy”

“y-yeah” he stammers as his focus remains fixed on the screen. “just uhm, peachy”

peachy?? who the fuck says that?!

she hums in response, moving her mouth to attach itself on his neck with fingers moving down south to softly palm him over the thick material of his pants. he takes in a deep breath at the touch, finding it more difficult to think straight with her lips on him.

“y/n” he calls her softly, hand gripping tightly around her waist as he feels himself grow even more. “sweetheart i-“

she shushes him. “you look so good right now i have to do something eds.” her tongue licks a bold stripe on the skin, pushing her chest against his, “we can take turns later, yeah?”

he gulps, body melting under her touch. “s-shit, y/n wait, wait!“ he suddenly exclaims, freeing himself from her grip

y/n frowns when eddie pushes her lightly. feeling annoyed why he’s like that towards her.

“eddie what the fuck?! do you not want me to suck your cock?” she harshly asks, then a sudden realization hits her. “are you fucking another bitch behind my back, munson?!”

he wide-eyed her as she crosses her arm, ready to kill him at that exact moment. “what? no! w-what makes you think I’m cheating on you?!”

“who is it?” she shoots immediately. “Julia from the cheer team or that fucking weird four-eyed wendy’s looking motherfucker at loves to stare at you across the hall?!”

eddie is confused. he doesn’t even know who she’s talking about, let alone a wendy-looking girl that keeps staring at him. how does she even know that?

he shakes his head furiously, wrapping her hands in his grasp to reassure her.“no! oh god y/n, of course not! . i only got my eyes for my girl, you know that. plus, Julia? she hates me and my friends, why would you even think of her?”

“then what’s going on!” she groans, moving to kneel in front of him as he sits up straight. “every time we make out or when i try to suck you off, you’d push me away. are you not attracted to me, anymore?”

“princess, believe me when i say this has nothing to do with you! of course I’m still attracted to you.” he says, looking at her in the eye. “shoot me in the head if i decided to leave you for another woman, i give you the permission.”

“okay, so what is it?” her voice turns soft. “you can tell me.”

sooner or later, of course, eddie has to tell her the truth. he hates having to keep secrets from her, but it’s embarrassing. who the hell wants to date a virgin? if she found out about that, she’d look at him differently. and he doesn’t want to lose her. not when things start to get better for him,

she notices how his eyes drop down to his lap, fiddling with his fingers as he removes his hands from hers. this causes her eyebrows to knit in concern.

“baby? what’s going on” she reaches out to softly pat her thumb across his cheek,

“it’s pretty embarrassing” he lowly chuckles,

“it’s not if it got you all worked up like this. come on, It’s your girl.” she ducks her head down a bit to take a look at his features,

he exhales. “well you know it’s just that i…” he trails off, “never had sex before..”

“what?!” she sounds genuinely surprised. “you’re a virgin?”

he nods, slowly looking up to meet her eyes. “yeah. it’s why i have been so… weird. I’m sorry. i know you expected more from me.”

seeing him get so vulnerable and embarrassed because of that makes her heart break. that’s why he’s been avoiding her touch? god, this man is so precious she feels like she’s going to pass out.

“eddie, you don’t have to be sorry for being … inexperienced. there’s nothing wrong with that. and ‘expected more’? baby, you are already enough for me.” she cradles his face to get him to look at her. “do you think i care about whether you’re a virgin or not? because i don’t.”

“well, you’ve been with those guys before, right? i bet they made you feel good. and i want to do that too. perhaps even better.”

oh her heart is about to leap out of her chest.

“made me feel good? they thought they were doing something. i had to fake it because they barely knew how to do it”. she rolls her eyes, earning a small laugh from him.

“plus, i think it’s cute that no one has ever touched you before.” she giggles, pressing a kiss on his nose,

“well i don’t want to be cute! i want to be hot. for you” he grumbles, frowning like a small child.

“you are, baby” she giggles, even more, shaking her head at this adorable man. “so cute and hot, you make my head spin and panties drop. not a day goes by that i do not think of you”

“you mean that?” his voice small. “because you don’t have to say that just because I’m your boyfriend.”

“i meant every word. do you know how many girls i had to threaten and slammed against the wall for eyeing you? countless.”

“you never told me that…”

“not important” she waves her hand in an attempt to change the subject. “now… how about i make you feel good, hm?”

she moves to put her weight on top of him, putting her legs on either side of his thighs. his heart is beating a mile per minute the moment she sits there. having no idea where to place his hands, he just place them next to her knees.

there’s a twinkle of lust across her eyes, the straps of her blue nightgown falling down her shoulders. long messy hair tucks on the either side of her neck

“but i want to make you feel good too. make you cum on my fingers” he struggles to say each word when her hand begins to untie the strings of his sweatpants.

“we have plenty of time to do that, but … i think my boyfriend deserves it more. don’t you think?”

“well... only if you want to” he's being shy, cheeks red and it drives her mad how cute he's being with her

“of course, i want to.” his pants are pulled now down on his thighs and his cock springs free. “would you let me take care of you?”

he nods frantically, becoming putty underneath her bedroom eyes as she slowly wraps her soft palm around the base of his hard shaft. eddie had never thought her eye contact is strong enough to make his body tremble.

“f-fuck, sweetheart” he blows a sigh of pleasure when she goes down to lick the tip, humming to herself when she finally got a taste of him,

he watches every move she makes. afraid that if he misses just one second, he will regret it. it still doesn't feel real to him. having the prettiest girl in Hawkins as his girlfriend going down on his cock. with a sweet, innocent look decorating her features, enough to make him cream already. but he's holding it.

dear god, he's trying to hold it.

”not even halfway through but you taste so good to me already” she smiles with her tongue still out, he catches a glimpse of her piercing and almost lets out a moan. ”and you have been hiding this from me? not nice”

the minute she slips his cock into her mouth, he's a goner already. brown eyes lulling onto the back of his head with a soft grunt following. she drags her tongue slowly from the base of his shaft, all the way up before closing her mouth around the reddening tip. keeping her eyes on him as she goes, who seems to be having a hard time trying to compose himself.

a devilish smile appears on her face, and her freshly manicured hand reaches out to give his balls a soft squeeze. he flinches at the sudden contact, groaning and moaning when she works on her tongue around him.

”does that feel good, eds?” she checks on him to make after pulling her mouth off. making sure he’s enjoying every moment. coating the tip with her spit before she spreads it with her thumb, ”like having my mouth on you?”

he can only nod to answer, his body is consumed by too much euphoria to give her a verbal response. chest raising with a heavy breath every time her fingers tip-toeing over the sensitive skin. balling his fists so hard, he wouldn't be surprised if his fingernails create a dent in his palms,

”use your words, come on” she moves her hand up and down the stiff flesh with a soft grip, watching his mouth fall open.

”fuck yes. it feels so good b-baby please... don't stop, please” he begs in between breaths, almost sounding like a squeak. eddie finally opens up his eyes to gaze back at her. giving her, his best pleading look, ”i wanted your mouth for so long”

”good boy” with that, she slides his cock back into her wet mouth. while her other hand runs up and down his thigh, sending a light shiver down his spine and arising goosebumps on his skin

eddie's fingers are curling up against the sheets. a strangled noise leaving his throat when the sight of her breasts almost spilling out from the dress. looking like a proper porn star.

he thinks he might actually pass out from this. the velvety insides of her mouth make his head spin and her tongue never seemed to stop teasing the tip. his legs are tense and she can see it from the corner of her eye. she’s taken by surprise when his hips accidentally bucking up, hitting the back of her throat.

”shit, s-sorry about that, sweetheart” he softly tells her, earning a squeeze on his thigh from her as a reassurance that it's okay.

he feels his body is blazing. he can't exactly describe it but it feels so good. pure bliss blooms inside of him when she continues to bob her head up and down. and fuck, eddie doesn't want to cum just yet. but he can't take it anymore. not when she peers up at him through her lashes, still with that innocent look on her face. or when she reaches out to squeeze his heavy balls of cum.

it gets even more harder when she sinks further, moaning around his cock because the sweet, sweet taste of him is creating an excitement that bubbles in her stomach

“f-fuck, fuck. i'm cumming” he rushes, thinking that she might pull away but she only wraps her lips tighter around him. sucking even harder until he releases it all. thick, white string of cum falling in her mouth and painting her tongue. eddie cries out in pleasure, screwing his eyes shut.

his fingers slowly start to loosen the grip around the sheets, his breath going steady, and relaxes both his legs.

she pops off of him, brushing a finger in the corner of her mouth to swipe his remaining. not wanting it to go to waste. “you're so adorable” with a giggle, she plops herself next to him, “how was it?”

“fucking amazing” he laughs breathlessly, rubbing his face up and down with his hands before facing her. a lopsided smile tugging her lips. ”god you were so good with it, I thought I was going to die”

“never heard that one before” she snickers playfully, making herself comfortable underneath the duvet. cuddling up to him. “you tasted so good too, what's the secret?”

he pretends to think while pulling herself close to him. “cheerios and cigarettes”

she swats his chest with the back of her hand, making him laugh. ”I'm gonna make you some real food. my man needs to have the stamina if he's planning to fuck me with his cock.”

he freezes, leaning back slightly to take a good look at her face to see if she's pulling his leg. “what?”

“you heard me.” her voice is stern but also playful. “you're gonna fuck me into oblivion and I will guide you through it if I have to. and we're not stopping until you make both of my legs shake that i can’t fucking walk to school tomorrow.”

eddie is certain he's in heaven right now

[gojo-mochi]

Y/N as Shidou’s Manager

CW: Smut, Fem!Reader, Reader is annoyed by Shidou but also wanna fuck him so.. Shidou is a menace and nasty af.

CW: Reader wears a skirt, Oral Fem receiving, p/v, creampie, lots of spits, praising,  panty stealing, a little bit of crying (from pleasure)…  

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: This was on my mind for a while****…**** Need to do more Blue Lock writing tbh / I love any thoughts in my askbox about this or Y/N as other players managers. ALSO I wanted to make reader yell at him more but ya know*. How it is with Shidouhe just messes me up real bad y*all**. First time writing for Shidou as well

Manager!Y/N Who has to deal with both Shidou and all the people he pissed off, this list includes.. Coaches, Soccer Moms, Players, News Reporters, Announcers, You, and the list goes on and on…

Manager!Y/N Who has to explain to Shidou that he just can’t go pissing on the opposing team's side of the field just because their Striker tried to flirt with you

Manager!Y/N Who swears up and down that she wasn’t a fan of Shidou before and all the merch she has was given to her as gifts

Manager!Y/N Who isn’t fucking pouting, Shidou! She doesn’t care that your fangirls were drooling all over your chest and arms after a match.

Manager!Y/N Who has to deal when Shidou slaps your ass when you’re bowing for an apology and say "Bending over for someone that isn’t me!?" With a shocked expression just like this

Manager!Y/N Who has to clean up mess after mess this includes stopping Shidou’s cum from leaking out of your cunt after you both fucked in the locker room after a match

Manager!Y/N Who has to pack extra panties after learning that Shidou likes to steal panties after having sex and you can’t go around bare pussy with only a skirt on

Small Drabble Below****…

"Ryusei! I can’t fucking believe you this time! I mean, honestly! You already won the match, why did you have to go and break their Striker’s arm afterwards! You were pulling the tanned man by the ear across the hallway, and your fellow employees either gave you a sympathetic look or shakes their heads at the sight, knowing that Shidou had caused another incident on the field. "Ow, ow, OUCH! Y/N!~~~~" Shidou whines your name as continue to pull on his poor ear. He can easily stop you from dragging him, but he knows he sort of deserves this, and not to mention that when you get aggressive, it makes him super hard.

So onward you go until you reach the small break room at the end of the hallway. You let go of Shidou’s ear and stood there with your arms crossed in front of your chest and your feet tapping, glaring daggers at the football player in front of you. Shidou just rubs at his swollen earlobe and grins down at you. "Ya’ know that really realllllly hurts y/n!" He put out his lips in a pout. "Kiss it better for me, please?" He even went the extra mile and clasped his hands together in a begging position. You felt your blood pressure rise as Shidou started to flutter his long eyelashes at you.

Your eyebrows twitch as you slowly close your eyes, trying to steady your breath. You take a deep breath, and your nose crinkles a bit when you inhale the scent of musk and scents near you. You open your eyes to meet the bright pink cat-like irises of Shidou. He was almost nose to nose with you, grinning like the Cheshire cat he is. You jumped away, hitting your back against the wall. Slam! Shidou's hand smacks loudly beside your head, causing you to flinch a little. Shidou lets out a deep chuckle, closing in on the nape of your neck, blowing out a puff of warm air onto your skin. You try to suppress the oncoming shivers, but to no avail.

You just glared at him harder and tried to push him away by placing your hands on his very toned and muscular body. You were _definitely not feeling him up, _you gave a firm push, but Shidou did not budge one bit. Moving in even closer to trap you between the wall and him. One hand next to your head and the other moving to grab onto your waist tightly, fingers digging in to your plushness. It was absolutely going to leave a bruise mark the next morning. You hiss at the contact, growling out his name. "Ryusei! What do you think you’re doing?" You gave another fruitless push to his torso, causing him to let out a snort.

"Ya’ even trying there, Miss Manager? Or do you just like feeling me up?" He purrs the last part, showing off his toothy grin and sharp fangs. Your heart leaps up into your throat as you look away, fighting off the oncoming blush you would deny was there. Shidou’s hand lets go of your waist and goes to grab your chin to force you to look at him, his thumb presses against your cheek gently but tightly into place as the other fingers tilt your chin up to meet with his lips just barely ghosting over yours.

The retort that you wanted to answer with came out as small whimpers instead. You felt heat pool down to your stomach, your thighs would clench together if Shidou’s own thigh wasn’t coming in between them. You hear him moan at the contact, practically rutting against you now. His hardness presses neatly against your thigh, grinding on your soft plushness. His breath was hot and heavy, and his lips were still so close to yours but not touching. "So fukin’ pretty Y/N… my pretty girl." He moaned softly, getting lost in a horny haze. Your thighs clenched a bit tighter on Shidou’s leg after hearing his voice moan your name. He moves his thumb from your cheek to brush over your lips. Wiping some of the drool that leaked out onto the top of the lips and then stroking it again on the bottom..

You instinctively swiped out your tongue only to be met with Shidou’s thumb. He takes this opportunity to plunge his thumb into your mouth and on to your tongue. You gagged a bit at the sudden contact and pressure. Shidou holds your mouth open like that, tongue out with his thumb holding it in place, as he forces his own inside. It was messy and wet, the way Shidou’s tongue invaded your mouth, tasting every nook and cranny he could find. Running it all over your teeth and the roof of your mouth, then finally taking his damn thumb off your tongue only so he can shove his tongue further down your throat. Your lipstick was smeared all over both of your faces, along with the shiny spit that covered your chin. Shidou was loud and whiny as he was nearing a climax just from his constant rutting against your thigh.

"Hnng—Fuck! Fu-Fuck, fuck, fuckkkk! Y/N!" He screamed out your name as he came into his shorts. Resting his forehead against yours as sweat gleams down both your faces. Two thoughts were running in your head. The first was, "Fuck, that another pair of shorts ruined… The coach isn’t going to be happy about that." And the second one was; "I need Shidou’s cock in me right now." Shidou peeled away from you and looked down at his shorts, grabbing his waistband and opening it to see the mess he made inside. "Damn, I do cum a lot, don’t I?’

You snort at his comment, trying to wipe off the spit that adorned your face as Shidou starts shimmying down his shorts and boxers at the same time. His hard, tan cock was finally free from its cage, still slick and shiny. Shidou threw away the soiled clothes in the corner and turned his attention back towards you. You flinched from the predatory gaze he had on you, clutching your hands close to your chest, acting like some sort of shield. But Shidou did not move from his spot, only motioning his pointer finger in a ‘come hither’ movement. "What?" You hiss out, also not moving from your spot. Like a cornered cat, wary and hesitant but not running away.

It was honestly quite the sight to see. You huddled with your back against the wall, and Shidou, pantsless, was just motioning for you to come to him. You held a small staring content with Shidou, ultimately sighing in defeat as you inch closer to him. As you get into range, Shidou starts to purr; "There’s my sweet girl." He makes grabby hands at you, pulling you in close by the waist. "Look at you~ a fukin’ mess right now, aren’t cha?" "And who’s fault is that?" He cackled loudly at your small quip and glare, throwing his head back as he does. He starts groping your ass and thighs as he sighs out, "Let me make up for it then, baby." He slowly lowers himself down on his knees, his hands sliding down with him, and he bunches up your skirt so he can have full access to your panties.

He wolf whistled upon seeing the wet patch that was already clinging to your folds. You put your hands on Shidou’s shoulders, feeling unsteady about the position you were in, Shidou’s head was already nestled between your thighs, his hands behind your knees, the only thing keeping you from falling down. "Ryusei, I think we should move somewhere before you-aAH! Ryu! Mmah, oh god!"

Shidou was lost in bliss as his rough tongue lapped at the wet spot, tracing the outlines of your folds through your panties. The cotton dried his tongue a bit but your slick plus his spit made it work. He groaned out, moving his tongue up and down the fabric, finding your clit and sucking harshly on it, like he was dying of thirst and your clit was the only source of water he has. You fingernails dig into his shoulders as you whimper and moan out, trying to move your hips but his hands kept you forcefully still. “Ryusei, Ryusei, Ryusei, Ryu, Ryu, Ryuuuuuu!” You were chanting his name like a mantra, desperately wanting to tell him to just rip your panties off already but your mouth and brain weren’t connected at this moment.

Shidou seem to hear your thoughts though as he unlatch his mouth from your poor pussy and use his fangs to rip off your panties. You just hear the rip and slaps him upside the head. “Shidou! What the fuck! I liked those pair!”

"I’ll ge’ cha’ nee ones!" He spoke back his mouth full of your panties, he spit it out on the floor, making a mental note to stuff it in his pocket later. Diving right back in your pussy, Shidou was a messy eater, the slick pool all around his cheeks and chin, and he reveled in it, slurping up all the juices that weren’t making a mess on his face. He had no sense of direction in the way he was eating you out, no gentleness, and no thoughts present in his head. He just needed to taste you, his tongue plunging in your tight hole, then up in between your folds. Then the next second, he would be sucking on your clit with so much force that it made stars appear in your eyes.

His head was moving so much between your thighs, your legs were shaking and clenching around him, the lewd sounds echoed in the empty break room; and you panicked for a moment, wondering if you had locked the door before coming in or not. It was only a fleeting thought as Shidou continued his assault on your poor bundle of nerves, but he never stays there long enough for you to reach a climax. You were unsure if he was teasing you on purpose or not. You slide your hand from his shoulders to grip on firmly to his hair, tugging it upwards, hoping he would get the hint and give you some relief.

He seems to have understood your pleas and angled his head to give your clit all the attention it deserves. He unhooked one of his hands from your knees to rub at your entrance for a bit, shoving in two fingers straight away. You hissed at the pain from his fingers, but it soon turned into soft whines as he curled his fingers into the spot you like the most. His tongue was still on overtime, swirling around your clit, switching before sucking and licking until he felt his fingers go numb from how tight you were clenching as you reached your breaking point again.

Your knees go slack as you cream all over Shidou’s awaiting mouth; he made sure to get every single drop, tongue lapping wildly. His hand goes to grab on to your thighs as your legs start to fail you. He moves away with a loud "pop".  He peppers your thigh with soft kisses as he leads you down onto his lap. ‘That’s it, baby; trust me, just fall down; I’m right ‘ere." You plop down, letting Shidou part your weary thighs, and position your still dripping cunt over his weeping length. Untouched during that whole ordeal before, he almost came when his tip entered your walls. "Hahhh, Ya’ always so fukin’ tight! So good fer’ me, so damn good, pussy takin’ me in so good, baby." He kept on babbling about how good you were and how good you felt.

"Ryusei…." You whimpered, wrapping your arms around Shidou’s neck and resting your head in the crook of his head. Already feeling spent, you just let Shidou babble on and moved your hips up and down on his cock. Tears pricked at your eyes when you started to bottom out, biting on Shidou’s shoulder to drown out the whines of pain from how he was stretching and filling up so fully. Shidou made you go up high enough that his cock would almost slip out, only to slam your hips back down with a loud ‘_plop’. _

‘plop’. ‘plop’. "Ryu-Ryu-Ryuuuu!" "Fuck, Y/N! Hahhh!" ‘plop’. ‘plop’. 

His thumb was now rubbing small circles on your oversensitive clit as he kept bouncing you on his cock, slamming his hips up to meet yours now. Almost stuttering as he reached his second climax. His shoulder is now covered in various bite marks from you as you desperately cling on, feeling the tight knot in your core once again. It takes one last slam, and Shidou holds you down by the waist as he climaxes into you, his thumb not stopping until you are almost cumming along with him. Both your juices mixing together as Shidou groans out.

You wipe away some of your tears and lean back to face Shidou, he instantly coos at you and helps to wipe away your tears with his stained hands. You scoff at him and slap away his wet hand. He pouts at that and goes in for a kiss, which you _begrudgingly (lovingly) oblige. _The both of you stayed in that position, just softly kissing and calming down, until you hear your phone ring in your skirt pocket.

It made you jump a bit as you fished your phone out and shush Shidou. "Yes, this is L/N speaking… yes, yes, um Shidou is here with me, oh…. I understand and I am so sorry for everything… Yes, I understood.. thank you." You end the call and look at Shidou, remembering why you came into the breakroom in the first place and why you were so mad.

"Shidou Ryusei, did you tell someone to vandalize the other team’s van?!"

"Oh… whoops?"

taglist: @auratux @kenruu (is open) (lmk if u wanna be untag sorry for the wait wahh)

[splendidreads]

‘Take The Trash Out’

Just a blurb about Bucky catching your POS ex boyfriend being abusive.

Warnings: Abuse, cursing, mentions of sexual interactions, possessive/protective/angry Bucky Barnes, two idiots who finally realize they love each other. Oh, and Steve.

Word count: 1167

My first little blurb. Idk if I like it, but oh whale.

“How did you even get in here?!”

John scoffed, rolling his eyes as he crossed the room to Y/N, “What, you think that just because you’ve got some supers in your corner, means that I can’t get to you?” He shook his head, going ‘tsk tsk tsk’.

“You need to leave before I call said ‘supers’ to my room. Tony won’t take kindly to someone like you breaking and entering.” Y/N crossed her arms on her chest, her words loud and strong, but then John’s hand came up and grasped her face. A bit too hard.

“Let go of me!”

“No. You will shut that mouth of yours, and come back home with me.” His words were sharp, and threatening.

“No!” Y/N smacked his arm away from her, her cheeks red from how hard he held her, “We broke up over a month ago John, I don’t want you in my life. Now get out!”

Before Y/N could even blink, a painful smacking sound echoed through the room. A loud gasp came from her lips, her hand rising to hold onto her now throbbing face. Her eyes were wide, staring at the man in front of her.

“Y/N?”

Her eyes darted to her open bedroom door, seeing both Bucky and Steve standing there.. Seeing the look on her face was enough evidence for both men to realize what had just happened. Bucky’s jaw clenched as he and Steve both walked into the room.

“You need to leave.” Bucky walked up behind John, and John’s eyes narrowed.

“It wasn’t exactly a request.” Steve said, crossing his arms on his chest.

John tried to stand up straight, puff his chest out.. But he still looked small compared to the two super soldiers in front of him. Bucky’s eyes went to Y/N, who was standing there completely shocked, holding her face.

“No. She’s coming with me.” John said, crossing his arms on his chest.

“Look, either you walk out willingly.. Or I drag you out, in which case, you might not be breathing anymore.. you choose.” Bucky’s words were strong, deep, and quite threatening.

Y/N finally snapped out of her shock, and moved away from John, walking to stand behind Bucky and Steve. John’s eyes glared at her, his jaw stiffening. “Get. Out.” She said to him, putting her hand on Bucky’s lower back.

Bucky noticed it, and did his best to hide a smile.. but John noticed it as well.

“What, him? Really?” John’s laugh came out like a cackle, “HIM? Really, Y/N? He’s a murderer!”

“Don’t even get me started John. Fuck whatever you have to say! You have no words that would make me ever want you back. What I chose to do, is none of your business.. But, if you wanna talk about it, at least Bucky would treat me right! He’d sure as hell treat me better than you ever could!” Y/Ns words came out strong, staring up at John.

“But I know you, Y/N. I know what you like.. what you don’t like…” John eyed her up and down, a smirk forming on his face.

A chill ran through Y/Ns body, “No, you don’t. You wouldn’t have a single clue.”

“And you think he would?” John rolled his eyes, “He’s a hundred something years old, Y/N! He probably has problems getting it up-“

Those words were quite the mistake, and John was quick to learn that.

Bucky’s vibranium hand was on his throat quickly, lifting him up into the air, “John, I don’t like you. Never have. Y/Ns too good for you.” His words were deep, his eyes piercing through John’s while he wriggled in his grasp.

“Buck…” Steve’s voice warned, but Y/N shook her head.

“He deserves whatever he’s got coming to him.” Her voice said, crossing her arms on her chest.

A low growl emerged from Bucky’s throat, his hand tightening on John’s neck, “Just so you know, and I really want you to know this…” He lowered John down just enough so that he could speak into his ear, “If Y/N ever decided she wanted me, she’d make me the happiest man alive. And, just because you brought it up..” He chuckled, “I’ll make sure to let you know what it’s like, to actually satisfy her. I guarantee to you that I’ll hear sounds from her that you couldn’t even dream about.”

John gasped against Bucky’s hold, trying to fight against him, but his face was starting to turn the wrong shade..

Y/Ns eyes were wide, trying to process Bucky’s words.

“Buck, let him go.” Y/Ns voice came out soft, her hand reaching up to rest on his shoulder.

Bucky turned to look at her, his gaze softening. His grip on John however, did not. He moved him over, almost tossing him to Steve.

“Take this trash out, would ya?” He asked Steve, and he simply nodded.

“Let’s go.” Steve said to him, grabbing him by the scruff of his shirt.

“Fuck you Y/N!” John shouted, as he was dragged out of her room.

“Never again!!” She yelled after him.

The room was silent for a long moment, Bucky’s eyes glued on the doorway, making sure that John was really gone. Y/Ns hand went to her cheek, finding that it was actually really sore, a soft gasp of pain escaping her lips. Bucky snapped out of his angry trance, and moved towards her.

“Doll.. Are you alright?” His eyebrows furrowed together, a look of worry in his eyes.

Y/N looked up into his eyes, his icy irises staring down into her own, “What you said…” She paused, searching his eyes, “Did you… I mean..”

“Did I mean it?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N nodded her head, and his answer surprised her.

In one swift motion, Bucky’s flesh arm wrapped around her waist, pulling their bodies together. He lowered his head so that their foreheads met, his orbs staring into hers.

“I meant every word.” He said to her, his voice deep, yet comforting.

“Thank god.” Y/N barely finished her words before she wrapped her arms around his neck, and closed the distance between their lips.

It was a strong, passionate kiss, both of their mouths moving in sync with one another. Steve had actually come back to tell them that John was taken care of, but seeing them in each others arms like that… He smiled, and silently left.

Y/N slowly parted the kiss, breathlessly looking up at him, a grin on her face. Bucky chuckled softly, his vibranium hand coming up to gently caress where John had hit her. A shiver rolled through her body, the coolness of the metal was comforting against her hot flesh.

“Now… Since that’s out of the way.. how ‘bout we go put my words to good use, and see what kinda pretty little sounds that mouth of yours can make.”