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#not the author going yes this is fine and okay
millie-multifics · 3 days
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Though I Yearn • Part 1
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Masters of the Air
Secret Admirer x Reader
A string of anonymous letters causes a stir at Thorpe Abbotts. Who could be the author of the tender correspondence you have been receiving?
Warnings: Secret Admirer (could be cute, could be creepy, depends on how you see it.), Reader is part of the Red Cross Girls, Spoilers, possible mentions of injuries, death and warcrimes.
Word Count: ~1.2k
Masterlist
Part 2
Meant to have this fic started so long ago but have been sick on and off constantly for about a month now. Enjoy!
x x x
Thorpe Abbotts was abuzz before the sun peeked above the horizon. Many of the personnel had been busy throughout the night while the men who would be in the planes got as much rest as their minds and bodies would allow. You were amongst those who had been working through the early morning hours, preparing the Clubmobile to serve fresh donuts and hot coffee that were intended to carry the men through their dangerous and lengthy mission.
Helen stepped into the truck, a small stack of letters piled on top of the supply box in her grip. She set the box down on the chair in the corner, seperating the letters adressed to you from the ones adressed to the few other Red Cross ladies. “Early mail delivery.”
“Must be for morale, first combat mission for many of the men today.” You easily recognized the printing on the first envelope, a letter from back home just like the ones you had recieved every week since arriving to Thorpe Abbotts. The second envelope was unusual, void of a return adress and stamp, only your name was scrawled across the front. You gently peeled open the envelope, unfolding the sheet of paper to read the message inside.
“During our first encounter your presence washed over me like the English rain, soothing and all consuming. You have captured my attention and selfishly, I must admit that I don’t want you to ever let it go.”
The letter had no siganture or name to identify who had written it, only a creased bottom corner and a small coffee stain in the middle of the mostly empty sheet. You didn’t recognize the handwritting but admittedly, you had not seen the writing of the majority of personnel at Thorpe Abbotts. Your brain spun, shuffling through as many first encounters as your mind would allow but it was overwhelming, there were so many possibilites… too many possibilities.
“Everything alright?” Helen asked, her eyes glancing to the letter clutched tightly in your hands, worry creasing her brows. She hoped everything was okay at home, it was everyones nightmare to recieve bad news from home while being on a whole other continent, so close to a raging war.
“Oh,” You quickly folded the letter, tucking it back into its envelope. “Yes, everything is fine.”
You were sure Helen was skeptical, feeling her eyes following your movements as you tucked both letters into your coat. The men trickling out from their quarters was enough to distract both of you from the coffee stained paper.
“I don’t recall such a welcoming committee when I arrived.”
The sudden voice behind you had been startling, you turned to find the handsome Major leaning against the open window of the truck.
“I do recall being in this very spot while you rushed right passed, Major.” You sent the man a polite smile, adding to the stack of paper coffee cups, “Surely you were focused on the business at hand.”
“That must have been it, I’d like to think I would have introduced myself otherwise.“
You were thankful for the roar of planes flying overheard, the arrival of his men drew his attention away from the heat pooling in your cheeks. “That is my cue. Enjoy your day, ma’am.”
The soldiers came in waves, stumbling across the clubmobile on their way to settle in. Many men lined up for the provisions you offered; hot coffee, fresh donuts, cigarettes, the newspaper and even the occasional magazine.
You sent the next in line a smile, one nearly tripping over his own boots as his friend nudged him forward. “Gentlemen, what may I offer you today?”
The dark haired soldier leaned on the window ledge that seperated you, sending you what you could only assume to be intended as a charming smirk. “If a ‘gentle’ man is what you are looking for, then that is what I shall be.”
It certainly had not been the first attempt at flirting you had experienced in the day, but generally the men had kept it tame, calling you pretty in some way or asking to take you for a harmless drink. You let your distaste for the comment show on your face, choosing to adress the amused man at his side.
“May I offer you anything?”
“Just two cups of coffee and cigarettes, thank you.”
You placed only one cup of black coffee on the ledge along with the requested cigarettes, offering a polite smile. “When your friend learns how to speak to women respectfully then he may make requests. Welcome to Thorpe Abbotts.”
Your eyes briefly found those of the dark haired man, his mouth slightly agap with your words before he was pulled out of the line by his now laughing friend.
The line faded quickly, the men moving along to find their Quarters to settle in as soon as they were served. The coffee urns were empty, only a single cup of black coffee leftover from the gallons that had been brewed. Helen had just began to clean when the last few men to arrive wandered through. You had heard through whispers that one plane had been seperated from formation, missing in the clouds. It had flown overhead a short time ago and you assumed these were those lost men. Most passed without stopping for a treat, settling in on the forefront of their minds but one staggered up to the open window.
“Anything left?”
“I’ve always got extra cigarettes or the newspaper on hand, one last cup of coffee if thats what you’re looking for.”
The solider accepted the lone paper cup, sniffing the bitter liquid before taking a large gulp. The boldness helped relieve the putrid smell of vomit from his nostrils. It was fragrent on the plane because his navigator was unable to control his air sickness, but the scent seemed to stuck in his nose as it was still the only thing he could smell, until the coffee anyway.
“You got any gum?” He asked, glancing over his shoulder at two men who were busy chatting amongst themelves. You slide a small package of mint gum across the ledge, watching as stalked toward the two soldiers, throwing the gum to the dark haired one without more than a simple ‘Heads up’.
Your first encounters with many of the men circled your mind as you lay on your bed, the letter once again clutched between your fingers. Major Egan, Douglass and Blakely, Hambone, Crosby and Bubbles, Curt and Dickie. Your first interactions with many of the soldiers were friendly introductions, none had stuck out to you as anything other than kind or mildly flirty.
He had never intended on you reading the letter, it had been written in a futile attempt to rid you from the forefront of his mind. He surely wasn’t a fool, you were far too good for a man like him but he had been completely taken by your warm presence. Unable to ease the yearn he felt for you, anchoring deeper every morning when you happily served what the military had insisted to be coffee.
It may have been a presumptious move on his part but he just couldn’t help himself.
He had snuck the letter into the mail carriers bag when he was delivering letters to the men as they ate was being labelled as ‘breakfast’.
x x x
Tags: @canyousmelltheflowers
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the-lonelyshepherd · 11 hours
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what’s your opinion on the travlottienat s2 sex scene
hi! um category five autism event and i got way too serious about this. however its not my problem.
oookay SO first off obligatory i am a minor BUT we are analyzing this from a narrative/plot perspective and not in a sexual way. theres naked people in art its fine. I think this scene is fascinating from like. not a shipping perspective but a character based one. it shows a lot about travis and it also shows a lot about lottienat (mostly talking abt the character combo and less the ship) and also jackie. yeah, jackie.
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Madonna della Pietà, Michaelangelo
To start - even w how it looks, this is a Lottienat scene. Not even from a shipping perspective but because this scene SHOWCASES their "rivalry", the contrast in their characters and how they are perceived to the rest of the team (w Travis as a stand in for the team). It shows how they're both very present figures in the whole yellow jackets situation (shown through travis but can apply to all of them imo). Nat is there with travis. shes physical, shes providing. But lottie is also there spiritually, and against the norm, leading whats going on.
Nat as the physical
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lottie as the spiritual.
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so despite the fact that natalie is physically there, travis cant (probably physically cant as hallucinations are NOT voluntary) take his mind off lottie. because she can give him something, in his mind, that nat cant. Shes almost an escape - nat is the harsh reality hes living while lottie is the voice that brings him hope that his brother is alive. lottie is someone who can lead in a way that he wants to make sense. and its an idealized version of her in his mind, probably stemming from his issues w authority figures like his dad and the built up version of masculinity in his mind.
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And this scene also emphasizes Nat’s role in the Javi situation. Because of this:
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The wound on her leg where she faked Javi’s death so that Travis would stop his self-destructive search for his brother, who by all means should have been dead. Why? Because who is Nat but a realist? She’s gotten everything from life thrown at her and came out of it with that attitude, and who can blame her?
But this scene is right after she brings Travis forged proof that his brother is dead. Her guilt is present through this scene, and showing the wound is to emphasize that. layers!!! but travis has a lot of guilt throughout this scene as well - not only because of the supposed death of his younger brother that he as the older sibling feels at fault for but also… the jackie situation.
The Jacke of it all:
yeah this is a jackie scene. not only is it right before when they FUCKING EAT HER but like in spirit as well. Okay so the thing is that jackie is the character who puts the most emphasis on virginity, we all know this, but in the end it's travis that gets the "first time" that she puts so much emphasis on. Yes, jackie and travis lose their virginities to each other, but in this scene travis checks off doing it with his actual girlfriend. That, and he does almost the same thing jackie did with jeff. She looks to shauna's photo, travis thinks of lottie. They have to be outside of their bodies to perform because both of them have hangups (for one reason or another).
It's not that Travis doesn't want to have sex like jackie with jeff, he clearly tries, but he can't do it while thinking very clearly. First by being drugged, then by imagining himself doing something unrelated. And they would've been happier if they hadn't done it - jackie is immediately shunned for it. If you think about it, she literally dies for it. Travis feels like he cheated and did something wrong despite being drugged out of his mind and having no real control over the situation (something jackie didnt know). and then IMMEDIETLY after this scene, there’s the Jackie feast. Not only is she everywhere symbliocally, shes also physically in them now. THE JACKIE OF IT ALLLLL
The Pietà
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The Pietà is a reference to the 6th sorrow of mary. for all you guys who arent christian/catholic →
The Seven Sorrows of Mary are seven significant moments in her life:
Simeon's prophecy of joy and sorrow.
The flight to Egypt to escape King Herod.
Finding Jesus in the temple after being lost.
Mary meeting Jesus on his way to crucifixion.
Witnessing Jesus' crucifixion and death.
Holding Jesus' body after his crucifixion.
Jesus' burial, which Mary mourns.
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To clear things up here - lottie as mary in this context is not a “maternal” as in motherly way - imo its supposed to be peace and hope, guidance/authority. travis, despite being famous for his daddy issues, is hinted at having mommy issues as well (see: him not getting hugged goodbye by his mom in the pilot while his dad and javi both do)
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also, he clearly struggles a lot w masculinity - having a woman in authority doesnt come naturally to him, but in this moment it is his only comfort.
so in the wilderness, there’s a complete power shift from the outside world. in this isolated environment there’s a female majority - specifically, the team, who already (roughly….. it gets messy but ykwim) trust and know each other. they already have a, albeit shifting, power dynamic established. in the normal, precrash, world, it would be isolated to them. but post crash, they are now the majority and the three guys left standing are now forced to assimilate into that instead.
Ben had power - he was one of their coaches and an adult - but with the death of coach martinez, he loses a lot of power 1) because he’s only an assistant 2) hes outnumbered 3) he doesnt want to be in charge of these insane girls anymore. he just wants gay daydreams. let him live.
Then there’s Javi - he’s younger, and none of the girls really know him, but they’re generally nice to him. he cant contribute much though - and eventually he has to contribute all he has - his literal flesh.
Finally travis - arguably the most involved as he is the same age as the team. this puts him on their field as “involved”. He originally has this very built up view of masculinity that you can tell stems from a place of self consciousness/ self loathing as well as a buildup of society’s expectations on him as a teenage boy in the 90’s. He’s supposed to be tough, hes supposed to be in charge, hes supposed to be better. And when hes thrown into this female dominated space it completely falls apart. He’s not the best shooter, he doesn’t have authority or leadership. The only other older male figures are dead or have tried their best to remove themselves from the situation. He has to completely reevaluate everything he knows - Travis has come to learn that there is power in being near and simply being an approximation of femininity.
Travis has come to learn that there is power in being near and simply being an approximation of femininity. Travis has gone from the top (he was never really there, but the built up idea of masculinity put him there in his mind, though even then he had doubts and it came from a negative place) and to bottom of the totem pole - and now he’s rising back up to somewhere in the middle by connecting with femininity, by recognizing women in authority, and also trying to have that hope and spiritual belief that is brought about by these female figures. The middle is where travis can reconcile with the weirder things (ive been in discussions about how travis actually parodies a lot of classic feminine tropes) that clash with what travis should be.
overall this scene is fucking insane. its lottienat its travnat its mommy issues its daddy issues its deadass jackie its an older brothers guilt its religious its a sin its deconstructing the very nature of yourself and those around you. all through the power of weird sex hallucination. and eating someone right after.
if youre still here i love you. please send me yellowjackets discussion asks i love them so much <3 feel free to ask questions and shit, also if none of this makes sense im sorry lmao.
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gideonisms · 2 years
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good god. If anyone knows how to turn off the brain setting that is like. If I do not write this perfectly I will die but also I Cannot get started or I will die. Let me know
#i'm suffering#because the prof was like what are your plans after this class and i was listing jobs i might apply to#he was like no i mean ur grad school plans and we had the whole conversation u know the one teachers sometimes have with you#it would be a waste of potential to do *whatever terrible job you are doing* instead of like. continuing to write papers#and he was really kind so i kind of played it off like haha you haven't read my final paper don't make up ur mind yet#but he said if my paper was good i should discuss my options for grad school afterwards with him and like. fine okay#i was planning to go to trade school after this maybe but like#1 conversation about my other options would be nice don't look a gift horse in the mouth etc#of course i'm wary af i don't trust an authority figure as far as i can throw them but you know. my paper was good i know this for a fact#point is now this paper has to be good or i'll become an electrician. or whatever#and u know what it definitely will be good it's just it won't be quite as good as the last one and i have#work hours and like due dates and i also have to eat food and experience experiences and everything is extremely bright and loud this month!#this is exactly why i am not living up to my 'full' 'potential'. this is exactly why i work the job i do which by the way someone has to#someone has to check out ur groceries and listen to you complain and my only real quarrel with it is the pay and the fact that#i'm just wildly unsuited to it as far as personality goes. like this is just because i can imitate everyone else#i do it in my papers too. i just think of the last peer reviewed paper i read and make my writing also do that#in a way i'm constantly writing fic. when u think about it#if you're wondering whether it has inhibited my 'own' 'voice' the answer is yes! it has.
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sugume · 2 months
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THINK I WANNA HAVE YOUR BABY w/Jujutsu Kaisen
( TW ) f!Reader, Breeding kink, unprotected sex, cream pie, cum inflation, hair pulling, sex toys, overstimulation, stepdad!Toji, daddy kink, overstimulation
Featuring: Gojo Satoru, Toji Fushiguro, Geto Suguru & Choso Kamo
authors note: repost bc tumblr took it down for no reason...
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☾ GOJO SATORU
“Fuck Love, you’re sucking me so good.” Satoru groans, struggling to not crash the car. During dinner, you two kept passing each other such heated looks that even your friends commented on the tension. Earlier today, you got a notification from your health app that you were ovulating. Satoru jumped on you as soon you told him, he wanted to stay in all day and fuck, but your guys’ friends blew up his phone reminding him of the promises you both made to them. After dinner you couldn't keep your hands off each other, you were desperate for his cum and Satoru was desperate to breed you. “Don’t cum ‘Toru.” You warn before sticking his cock back in your mouth. “Can’t help it Love, mouth too fuckin’ good,” he says, sighing in relief when he pulls onto your street, clicking the button in his car that opens the garage. He barely has the chance to take the keys out of the ignition before you pull him out of the car. “Don’t have time to make it up to the bed, just fuck me right here.” You demand, leaning over the car and presenting Satoru with your ass. Satoru pulls your dress up and shoves his cock into your pussy. He reaches over your hip to stimulate your clit. “‘Toru, just cum in me, I don't care ‘bout gettin’ off.” You move your ass in perfect sync with his hips. “You sure Love–” “Breed me ‘Toru!” You moan, feeling his cum fill you up. You drop your head to the still-warm hood of the car, finally able to catch your breath now that his load was deep in your cunt. “C’mon Love, let's finish this in the bedroom.” 
☾ TOJI FUSHIGURO  
You peak over the corner of the hallway, winking at Toji who was busy talking to your mother. ‘Come fuck me.’ Your mouth once you catch his attention before running back up the stairs, careful not to make any noises. You told your mom that you weren't feeling well, that during the drive back from college you must’ve caught something. In all honestly, you just wanted a chance to freely fuck your stepdad without your mother coming in and out of your room. Specifically, you wanted to be bred by him, and the best way to keep his cum in you was to use several pillows and put them under your ass so his cum didn’t spill out, hence why you didn't want your mom to barge into your room. Thank God she's a germaphobe. You strip out the Pj set you threw on and lay yourself face down, ass up. Your stepdad’s favorite position. As expected, you hear your stepdad softly shut the door a few minutes later. “Desperate now, are we?” He grips your hips. “Always desperate for you Daddy.” you mumble into the bed. “Huh,” he slaps your ass before pulling you up by the hair. “Didn’t hear you slut.” “Said ‘m always desperate for you Daddy, even prepared myself with the dildo you bought me.” You whimper. “Such a good girl,” He pulls his hard cock out of his slacks, gives it a few tugs before stuffing your cunt to the brim. “Now take this dick slut.” He pushes your head down into your lilac duvet. You try and fail to be silent when his dick hits that special spot every time he goes deep enough. “You okay in there, y/n?” You hear your mother's muffled voice through the door. You clench down on your daddy's dick in surprise, causing him to fuck you faster. “Y/n?” “Y-yes mom, I'm fine, just go away p-please.” You gasp out, throwing your head back into the bed in ecstasy when you hear her mumble and walk away. “Daddy, 'm cumming! Cum with me!” You whisper-yell. “Gonna fill this pussy, get you so full of my seed you can never leave this house again.” He grunts, slamming into you at a bruising pace. “Yes, please Daddy, fill me up!” You orgasm and Toji follows suit, filling you with so much cum it spills out.  
☾ GETO SUGURU 
“I'm so full Sugu.” You mumble, dazed. You fight the urge to close your eyes and fall back into Suguru’s big, warm chest. “Wake up sweet girl. ‘M not done yet.” He mumbles into your sweaty neck. “B-but Sugu–” “Shush Lovebug, one more time.” Suguru looks over your shoulder to see where you two are connected. He plugged you up good, but after so many loads a trickle of his cum slowly travels down his almost empty balls. “O-one more.” You grab his chin and kiss him sweetly. He rubs your noses together before grabbing your hips and moving you down the shaft of his cock. He pays close attention to not pull you over the tip of his cock. You hold onto your stomach, feeling it protrude slightly more than normal, Sugu’s cock and cum inflating you. You feel like a cum filled, flesh light as Sugu moves you to his liking. It’s hard to believe he has more cum in him. “Fuck Lovebug, you feel so warm and tight.” He mummers, giving you a few more neck kisses. You lean closer into him. Right now, you want to live in his skin. “Love you Sugu, can’t wait ta have your baby.” “I Love you too, can’t wait to see you carryin’ my child.” He grips your hips tighter at the thought.  “‘bout to fuck another load into you sweet girl, you wan’ it?” “Yes please, more than anything.” You rest your head back into his shoulder. He shrugs at your head until your mouth is close enough to kiss. He slams your hips down and cums as you two make out and whisper sweet nothings. 
☾ CHOSO KAMO
“Again, Baby.” Choso holds the vibrator to your clit. You arch your back and forget the fact that you have nipple clamps on. You scream when the clamps move. Your entire body is sensitive, Choso came up with the idea to simulate you to the max when you said you wanted to have his baby, that you wanted him to breed to and fill you to the brim with his cum. You readily agreed to his idea because you knew that the more orgasms you had the better chance you had to get pregnant, something about the virginal walls relaxing when women orgasm. Now though, you’re regretting it. Choso’s been holding the vibrator on your clit for the last hour and every time you think you’ve gone numb to the sensation; he finds a way to make you cum harder than the last. “N-no Choso, ‘m done down, I've cum as I can, wan’ you to fuckmenow!” You slur your words, the pleasure making you lightheaded. “One more Babygirl.” He soothes you, rubbing your stomach and imagining what you’d look like full of his cum. Beautiful, you’d look beautiful. “At least fuck me while you give me another orgasm!” You argue, staring at him with glossed-over puppy eyes. Choso gives in and situates himself between your legs, still holding the vibrator over your clit. You sigh happily when he sets the vibrator down and thrust his cock in you. You thought you were completely numb down there but the feeling of Choso thrusting into your hole that’s been contracting nothing felt godly. Adding that with the vibrator that he put back on your clit, you come immediately. “Choso!” You scream clenching around him so tight he can’t help cumming. “Fuck! ‘M filling you up so good baby!” 
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yasu-1234 · 2 months
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losing your virginity to suguru geto.
pairing: suguru geto x afab reader words: 3,600 contains: oral sex, virginity loss, fingering, and suguru talking you through it. mood: soft, sweet, and tender. author's note: this was one of my favorites to write and i thought i should share it here too! also, let's be friends (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.゚
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You wonder what’s so different about this one Sunday morning.
You wake up with Suguru’s body pressed against you from behind. His lean arms wrapped around your torso. His cheek is pressed against the back of your neck, breathing and snoring softly, deeply, down your shoulder. He holds you as he always does: firmly, as if he was carrying you, and yet gently, as if you were fragile.
This isn’t the first time you woke up in his apartment, and it’s not the first time he ever spooned you in your sleep. Yet somehow your body feels warmer than before. And your skin feels more sensitive to his touch. His sweet and woody scent is heavy and enveloping, lulling you into a dizzying state of comfort. Not quite asleep, but not quite lucid and awake.
You feel him shift from behind you. And you feel something press against the back of your thighs. Something hard and thick and warm. Your legs flinch and your heart starts beating faster as you realize what it was. Suguru wakes up from the slightest tremor in your body. He raises his head to look at you with bleary eyes.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice still deep and gravely from sleep.
You turn your head to meet him and smile, “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry to wake you up.”
He nearly melts at the way you’re nestled comfortably in his bed, in his arms. Your smile looks soft and pretty under the ray of sunlight pouring through the window. He hugs you tighter and nuzzles his face against your cheek, your neck. “I’m poking you aren’t I? Sorry.”
You blush and laugh softly, “It’s okay. It’s not like you can control it.”
“Yeah,” he sighs. He points his hips away and lies his head back down the pillow. You feel your chest strain and your body ache from the loss of pressure and warmth. You pull his arms closer, tighter, around your torso like a blanket.
Suguru has always been so careful, so respectful. And so attuned with the ways your body reacts to him. He can feel the way your heart is pounding inside your chest as blood rushes from your heart to your skin, warming your entire body. He can hear the way your breath deepens as a strange sensation overcomes you. Heat. Desire. Lust.
Suguru nuzzles against your cheeks once again.
“Do you want it back?”
You lean towards his face, your voice barely a whisper.
“Yes.”
He turns his hips again to press his cock against you. Then he slides his leg in between yours. You didn’t even realize how badly you were aching for him, until he pressed his thigh against your cunt and relief washes over you. You hum in pleasure against the pillow.
“You need me don’t you?” he asks, as your thighs start squeezing and rutting his own, enjoying each pulse of pleasure against your clit.
You nod, biting your lip in anticipation.
“Okay,” he whispers. “We’ll take it slow, okay? You can tell me when to stop… when we’ll keep going…”
He starts moving his hips, grinding his cock languidly against your backside. You start rutting against his thigh in a similar rhythm. His fingers brush your hair to the back of your neck and start kissing an electrifying trail from under your ear to your collarbone, sniffing your scent as he goes. His lips are a bit dry from sleep, but you enjoy the contrast between the roughness of his lips and the softness of his kisses.
He pressed his hand firmly against your chest, grabbing a handful of your breast. Then it wanders down to your stomach, to your hips, to your thigh. It lingers under the hem of your shirt–his shirt. That you wear each time you sleep in his place. You take his wrist and pull it upwards, letting him touch your skin.
“I’m gonna raise your shirt. Is that okay? We’ll use the blanket if you’re cold,” he asks, with that smooth, gentle voice. As if his words are melting on his tongue.
“Okay,” you sigh. He reaches for the blanket pooled by your ankles and pulls it over you. Then he raises your shirt to your armpits and starts caressing your breasts. You shiver from the lightness of his touch.
“You’re so soft,” He sighs, rolling your breasts with a warm hand. He relishes the way your nipples shrivel in his fingertips. “So pretty…”
He pulls you gently by the shoulder, wanting you to face him. Your lips drift towards his. Suguru hums in approval, parting his lips to let your tongue meet him. He rolls over on top of you and lets the bare skin of your torsos press against each other, seeking comfort in the warmth and smoothness of your bodies.
Every kiss and every touch, even the scent of his skin, the taste of his tongue, and the small hums and groans from deep in his chest rushes straight down your spine and to your crotch. You pull away, forming a trail of saliva from your tongue to his. You look between his legs and notice his head peeking from under his waistband. The slit glistening with pre-cum.
“I wanna touch it,” you whisper.
“Please,” he replies, almost immediately. His voice is shaking now.
He takes your wrist and lets you fondle him over the fabric. His sweatpants barely cushion his massive length and girth. You caress him with a light and measuring touch. Sliding your hands up and down his hardening shaft, then cupping his balls, feeling how soft they are in the palm of your hand.
“What do you think?” He asks, smiling at the way you look at his crotch with lust-drunk eyes, your lips parted as you feel him. “Keep touching. Get used to the feeling.”
“It’s… thick,” you whisper with a mix of fear and hunger in your tone. Your hand sinks past his waistband, grabbing his shaft. His head drops down your neck with a hiss. His hips start to move, fucking your closed fist. His skin feels even smoother and thinner against your palm, textured slightly by the soft veins snaking underneath.
“I knew it,” he hisses between gritted teeth. “I knew your hand was gonna feel this good.”
He motions you to sit on your shin while he lies on his back. He pulls his sweatpants down to his thighs, exposing the thick cock laying heavily over his abs. He takes you by the wrist and wraps your hand around the shaft, just underneath the crown.
“Keep playing with it, baby. Make me feel good,” he mutters as he wraps his hand around your fist and starts jacking. Teaching you to his preferred rhythm and grip. “I know you can do it.”
You follow his instructions, gazing into his eyes as you gauge his reaction. His cheeks are flushed deep red, his eyes glazed over as he bites his lips and watch your hand slide up and down. He reaches towards your waistband and sinks his hand under your panties from behind.
You feel his finger slide between your lips.
“Aah!” You whimper and shudder. Your hand stops moving as he glides his finger back and forth against your slick cleft.
He wraps his free hand around yours once again and urges you to keep pumping.
“Try to concentrate,” he says with a gentle tone. “I’m just making sure you stay wet while you’re working on me.”
You nod try your goddamn best. But his fingers just feel so long, so smooth and slick, as he teases your bud with each languid stroke. You knew that Suguru had some experience, but it was only around now that you realized the depth of his skill. You start twitching and throbbing against his finger. Your thighs squeezing his hand to trap him in place.
“So sensitive. Have you ever touched yourself? At least once?” He asks, a playful smile on his face. He seems to be enjoying the way you struggle to stay upright and still.
“Of course I have,” you reply, pouting. “But it feels different when it’s you.”
“Oh yeah?” He smiles. “Do you think of me?”
You blush and look away. “I mean, who else do I think about?”
You feel his cock spasm in the palm of your hand. He chuckles softly.
“I think about you too. But this feels better than I imagined.”
He slides a second finger between your lips, now drawing circles on your aching clit. You grunt and whine. The ticklish sensation is too dull, too soft, to relieve the ache building between your legs. You look at him and notice that slight, mischievous slant on the corner of his mouth. He knows he’s torturing you. He’s relishing that starved look in your eyes.
Indignant, you bend down and give a soft lick on the tip of his cock.
“Fuck!” He grunts. His breathing grows heavier as you glide a soft tongue around and around the slit. “Hah… Holy shit.”
“Not so fun when you’re the one being teased, right?” You ask.
Suguru huffs and laughs.
“Are you kidding? I love it,” he replies. “Fuck me up, babe. Make a mess out of me. I wanna beg.”
You bite your lip and smile. Emboldened, you bend down and wrap your lips around the crown of his cock and start coating him with your mouth. Absorbing him, caressing him with your lips and tongue. Suguru groans low, his thighs nearly vibrating underneath your palm as he summons all of his will not to shoot his hips up and gag you with his length.
The taste of his dew drop reminds you of all things honeyed and sweet—ripe mangoes, fresh peach, a drop of caramel, enhanced by the delicate saltiness of his skin. His scent is warmer and smokier like burning wood. And somehow thick and sweet like amber. You dip your head down, wanting to taste more. You want to feel his veins against your tongue, his tip on the roof of your mouth, inching closer to the back of your throat. You suck him with eagerness and hunger that provokes his greed.
“Keep stroking me, baby. Suck the tip and stroke the rest,” he mumbles. “Stroke me while you suck me. Please.”
You wrap your hand around the base of his shaft and start sliding in tandem with your mouth. Suguru groans louder now. The balls of his feet digging and dragging against the mattress. His fingers circle harder on your clit, rewarding you with mutual pleasure.
"Mmph… " You hum as you start rutting against his fingers, and his cock nearly bursts from the vibrations in your throat.
“Oh God, wait. Baby–baby wait. Not so fast,” he gasps, grabbing you by the hair to keep you steady. But you move your head faster anyway, your hand tightening and swiveling around his shaft, wanting to drag him to the edge and lose all control.
“Okay–No–stop, stop, stop,” he pants, pulling you upwards by the scalp. He pries your mouth out of his cock with a wet smack. “Don't make me cum just yet. Not there.”
He sits up and slides you down the bed by the hip, pulling your crotch towards him. Suguru sinks between your legs and pulls your panties to the side, peeking like a chef with his pot. Not only have you soaked through the thin, lacy fabric, he can also see the way your clit and your folds flutter and quiver in anticipation. The feel of his heavy breathing alone is enough to make your hips jump.
“All this for me?” he teases. “I’m touched.”
You bite your thumb and grin towards him. Like a child about to be handed a new toy. Suguru pulls your panties off and starts kissing and nipping the inside of your thighs.
“My turn to take care of you, okay?” he asks, his lips seeking permission, hovering so close to your bud. And when you nod, he dives in. Suguru cycles through several techniques, trying to gauge which one you like best–a wide soft tongue, perhaps small precise licks, hard or soft suckling. And once he finds the right brain-blasting combo his mouth becomes relentless. He spreads your thighs and pins them unto the bed, giving him more access. You grasp, white-knuckled, the pillow underneath you. And you release a low, animalic grunt.
“I know, baby, I know,” he mutters before he dives once again. “Just keep feeling it. Feel good for me, baby. You need to be ready.”
“I am ready,” you plead. Every fiber of your muscle begs for release. Your hips begin to squirm away from him, trying to save your pussy from overstimulation. Suguru had to shift his hands and pin your hips down. “Please just-”
“Not yet,” he cuts off. He reaches upwards to hold two fingers near your mouth. “Spit.”
You look at him, bewildered. He commands you again.
“Spit.”
Reluctant, you gather saliva on your tongue and pour it down his fingers. Suguru sinks back down and starts teasing your entrance. Then he slides a finger. And another. Loosening you up with his lips around your clit.
“Does it hurt?” he asks, as he moves his fingers in and out.
You shake your head, “No. But it feels stretched. Right around the entrance.”
“You need to relax,” he murmurs. “Play with your tits for me, will you?”
You nod and slide your hand on the underside of your breasts, rolling them together, teasing your sensitive nipples. You watch Suguru work his lips and fingers on your core. His hair pooling between your legs. His eyes hazy with love and concentration as he makes a mess out of your cunt. Dribbling all the way down his wrist and chin. Eventually, the stretching sensation fades and you feel softer, more malleable, under his touch.
Suguru sits up and starts jacking his cock. His eyes wander over the flushed and dripping mess of flesh he made out of his own girlfriend. Panting as he imagines his cock driving straight inside you. He leans down and aims his tip between your legs. You flinch and look away in a sudden spike of nervousness.
“No, baby. Hey, look at me,” Suguru says with a soft, low, voice, tilting your face towards him. You look up and meet his gentle, earnest eyes. “I love you, okay? It’s just me. You know I won’t do anything to hurt you.”
He starts kissing your forehead, your lips, your neck, your shoulders. You try to focus on your breathing, drawing on every pleasurable sensation you’ve felt before this moment.
“It’s just a new feeling. You just have to get used to me. You just have to get used to feeling this part of your body.” he whispers, as he starts prodding you with the tip of his cock, coating himself with your fluids. “And once you’ve done it… you’ll crave it again.”
You nod, taking in his words. "Okay. I trust you."
"Good. Good girl."
You grit your teeth and whimper as you feel him enter. He thrusts into you inch-by-inch, pushing and withdrawing and stopping as necessary. It hurts. Then it doesn’t hurt. It’s uncomfortable, and then it’s not. You wrap your arms around him and pull him closer to your body, wanting to be crushed by his entire weight. While somehow wanting to push him away. While wanting to strangle him. While wanting to embrace him. To caress him. To scratch him.
He plunges into a place in your body you never realized was there. And more of him keeps coming and coming. Pushing towards an unknown depth you can never reach on your own. But it’s just him. It’s just Suguru. And you know that he’ll always treat you with unrelenting tenderness and soothing. He’ll never hurt you.
You dig your fingers on the back of his neck as you gaze into the ceiling with bleary eyes. Your head spins. You don’t know for how long you’ve been holding your breath. And if he hadn’t held you the way he did, perhaps your soul would have fallen backwards from your body.
“Yes, God, yes. Just take me, please,” he pleads as he kisses your neck. “I’m almost in…”
He leans down and takes your nipple in his mouth. The sudden prick of pleasure drives him further inside of you, all the way in, until he’s buried to the hilt with a long, satisfied groan. Your cunt clenches and quivers, plugged to the stomach by his girth, surprised that you managed to take this much of him.
“Do you feel that? That’s all of me,” he says, caressing your cheek with tender fingers, laughing softly in wonder. “We’re gonna make love. God, I love you.”
He laces his fingers between yours and kisses you deeply. And even the spaces between your fingers are sensitive to his touch.
"I love you too," you whimper. "I'm all yours."
Suguru’s hips start swiveling in circles against yours. Letting you get used to his length and girth. Then he rocks his hips back and forth in slow, shallow strokes. Fucking you with impossible gentleness. Measuring how fast and how hard he can go before you start to hurt again. Like you have all the time in the world. But you bury your face in his neck, biting his shoulder as you take more and more. Soon, you feel even looser, more comfortable, and the pleasure begins to overtake all else.
You start moving your hips in tandem with his.
“Yes, fuck,” he hisses against your neck. “That’s right baby, make love to me. Feel good with me.”
He picks up the pace, slamming his hips against you and nearly driving you towards the headboard. He’s stretching you again, his shaft slicing against your tight entrance. But Suguru angles his cock and jabs a spot underneath your belly that nearly makes you cry. You no longer mind the pain that’s so deliciously mixed with pleasure. And you notice that any coherent thought escapes you, and any words you want to say dies in your throat. You barely have enough air in your lungs to even moan his name. Or any strength in your arms and legs to keep clinging to him. So you simply lie there and feel him. Feel the way he thrusts and sinks into you. Feel his smooth hand on your waist. Feel his breath against your face as he rambles sweet degeneracy into your ear.
“You’re so tight. So fucking tight. Oh, you’re gonna milk me dry,” he mutters under his breath. “A good girl with a good pussy. I’m so fucking lucky.”
You feel the pleasure build from under your belly, on your clit, your nipples. And then you shatter. Your stomach tightens like a board and your body recoils as the pleasure overtakes you. White hot light bursts in front of your eyes and splatter into pinpricks of color. You scream and cry against the crook of his neck. Your pussy clamping around his cock. Suguru hooks his arm under your waist and thrusts even faster; eager to milk himself while you’re still wound up and tight from your orgasm. The pleasure starts to feel rawer, searing like an electric shock. A gradient from pleasure to pain.
“I know baby, I know, just bear with it. Just bear with it for me. I’m so close,” he grunts, face tight from euphoria. “I’m so close, please, let me cum.”
His jaw clenches and you feel a burst of warmth right inside of you. His hips stutter helplessly by the strength of his orgasm. And then it finally stops. He holds still. His hard grunts melt into soft moans and heavy breathing. Together, you hang onto that boneless, satisfied trance; your minds slipping into reverie. His cock stays buried inside of you for moments, but it feels like a part of you now. Even as he slowly pulls away you still feel him under your skin. The feeling of his touch, the warmth of his breath, the weight and thickness of his cock when it dwelled inside you, feels less of a vivid memory. And more of a phantom sensation that will linger for as long as you let it.
Suguru props himself with both elbows and gazes upon you with love and reverence. He plants a tender kiss on your lips.
“Thank you.”
You laugh weakly, “Thank you? ”
He nods. “Yes, thank you. For the memory, for the trust, for the love.”
Suguru brushes your hair away from your forehead and kisses you there. Letting his lips linger. Then you gaze at each other in euphoric wonder. You have melded with him in body and soul. In pleasure and love. Your skins are matted and slick with sweat, and you can feel his semen dripping down between your thighs; the light from the window bears down your heads like halos. You feel anointed and transformed. And your bodies now feel less like a mystery to yourselves and to each other. Everything has changed now. And your relationship with Suguru will never be the same. The memory of your lovemaking will lie in the undercurrent of your every interaction, now that he has untethered a craving inside your minds. That ever-present need to feel this sense of closeness once again.
Suguru nuzzles his face against yours. Holding your bodies completely still as you take a shared breath and bask in the intimacy, in the sacredness, of this moment.
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thank you for giving this fanfic a chance! pls excuse me if the grammar, dialogue, choreography, and narration is awkward. english is not my first langauge and a lot of things get lost in translation inside my head. originally posted on ao3 art by m_mifmr on x
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bet-on-me-13 · 2 months
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The First Supervillain
So! A Typical "Early Start" AU where the events of The Show happen early in the Timeline. Like, in the 70's or 80's.
Danny never quite managed to fix his Public Perception, and even years into his career people still saw him as the Villain.
Coincidentally Valerie was seen as a Hero because of how often they were seen fighting. Even after they revealed their Identities and got together, they still had the occasional Battle. It was their love language.
His role as the Villain was Cemented when Pariah launched his Second Invasion of Earth after some dumbass accidentally freed him, and Danny took the Blame for it. Instead of being seen as the Hero who battled Pariah and stopped the Invasion, he was seen as the Tyrant to launched the Invasion in the first place, with Red Huntess being the one to defeat him in one final Ultimate Battle.
And honestly? He was fine with that. Now that he was the King of the Ghost Zone, he had the Authority to Regulate the Portal so villains stopped getting through. And that meant that he wasn't needed to stop random Ghost Attacks anymore. He could finally focus on College and his own Life, instead of sacrificing everything to act as the Protector of the Human Realm.
Val continued to be a Hero for a few more years, eventually retiring when it became Clear that the new generation of Heroes could pick up the Slack.
He went to College, got a Job as an Aerospace Engineer, and eventually proposed to Valerie.
About 20 years since his initial Accident, and he was doing great! He had moved into a humble home on the edge of town with his loving wife Val, his beautiful daughter Ellie, and his cute dog Cujo.
Yeah, life was good.
Until the day Danny accidently caused a Mass Crisis.
...
Superman was having some extreme trouble in dealing with his current Opponent. He had just been flying around the City, patrolling as Usual, when all of a sudden he had been attacked by a Flying Mech Suit.
At first he had assumed that Lex was giving it another Go, but he quickly realized that was not the case when the Armor seemed to Phase though solid matter in the middle of the battle. Lex had never made Tech advanced enough to do that on the fly.
This opponent was tough too. Strong enough and Durable enough to go blow for blow with him, and seemingly able to pull Advanced Weaponry from out of nowhere whenever he wanted. As tough as it was to admit, Superman as losing the Battle.
Then, without warning, the battle stopped. His opponent was staring at the space just behind him, with a look of pure dread. He turned around, and his heart stopped.
Floating behind him, staring right past him and directly at the Mech Suit, was the First Villain Phantom.
He looked much the same as when he had last been seen, although he was definitely Older. He had snow white hair, and glowing green eyes that seemed to stare right past him and into his very soul. He was wearing what seemed to be a costume of sorts, with an all black suit, white gloves, and white boots. Over his Shoulders sat a Cloak made of Stars, and above his head sat a Crown made of an Icy Blue Fire.
The Mech tried for a greeting, "Er- Hello t-Lord Phantom. How do you d-"
"Skulker."
"Y-yes?"
"What are you doing here? I thought I gave you explicit orders to stay in the Ghost Zone until further notice. You disobeyed me."
"Okay look. I got excited, that's my fault. It's just, I got anxious waiting. Can you really blame me? I've been waiting 20 years to take another Crack at the Human World, what's it matter if I left a few weeks Early?"
"I told you. You were supposed to wait exactly 20 Years, and you left Early. This calls for punishment."
"No wait!"
"Let's see how you feel after a few days as Soup."
The Villain pulled out a Thermos, and in a flash of green light, Skulker was gone, and the King was capping the Thermos. He then turned to Superman.
"I apologize for him, he decided to leave ahead of schedule." The King addressed him. "Now, Kryptonian. Rest and tend to your wounds, you will need to be in your best health if you want to continue saving the lives of those people below us."
With a dramatic flare, the King reached up and Tore a hole in Space. Through the Hole, Superman could only see an infinite Green Void, with the sound of screams cheering being heard through the rift.
The King departed through the Tear in Spacetime, and it closed behind him.
Superman tried to collect himself, and activated his League Emergency Comms.
"Attention All Founding Members, and Justice League Dark Members. This is Superman calling for an immediate Emergency Meeting."
He took a deep breath.
"Phantom is Back."
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lujingheswife · 5 months
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eyes of silver and gold
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soulmate au! everyone has heterochromia, one eye is your natural colour the other is your soulmate’s natural colour. once you meet eye contact, all eyes return to its natural colour.
featuring: neuvillette
word count: 1075
cw: soulmate!au, reader is a liyue adeptus, gn!reader, reader’s eyes are GOLD because GOLD, traveler can be lumine or aether (they/them pronouns), intentional lowercase, not proofread
author’s notes: super duper rushed IM SORRY,,,, this could be written better but yeah 😭😭 i’ll do better next time !!! (i love soulmate aus)
_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
neuvillette blinked at the reflection of himself on the mirror for the nth time. it was not the first time he had done so, but every time he observed the eyes of the citizens of fontaine it made him question what made his soulmate so special.
because one thing for sure, he was almost certain his soulmate was not human.
the chief justice knew the eyes of a human when he sees one. their round iris, and the common eye colours of brown or blue could easily tell that they’re merely human.
however, his soulmate’s eye replacing his left one did not look like the eyes of a human. it was an unnatural colour, usually similar to the eye colours of those who wield a vision. what caught his attention though, was the pattern of his soulmate’s eye that stood out amongst the others. like how his eyes are of a dragon’s, and lady furina’s eyes are of dewdrops, his soulmate’s eye, igniting a warm colour, shouted gold.
the first thing he had in mind was the land of gold where the geo element usurper resided. he knew liyue was a land of the adepti, where many immortals who once battled in the archon war still lived in the mountains of amber.
yet for centuries living as the hydro dragon, he had never once encountered his soulmate.
was it because of the distance between them? it was understandable, after all, for an adeptus to remain loyal to their homeland.
he had visited liyue a few times but failed to find this soulmate of his. maybe they were not residing in liyue after all?
neuvillette chose to let fate decide.
he heaved a small sigh as he turned away from the mirror, back to his office desk to continue checking the documents for the next trial.
“monsieur neuvillette!” a loud, squeaky voice which he knew belonged to a certain floating alien chimed through the door. he watched as surprisingly, only paimon, flew her way into his office with an excited expression.
he blinked confusedly at her unusual demeanour. “miss paimon,” he called, “how may i assist you today?”
he allowed her to take her time as she panted heavily. “your—“ she looked up at him and he swore he saw her eyes sparkling a lot brighter than usual. “my?” he asked.
“soulmate! we found your soulmate!! they’re outside!” paimon exclaimed excitedly.
neuvillette’s world stopped for a millisecond, for he had not known that his soulmate had just traveled kilometres from the southern liyue to the northern fontaine. he did not realize his legs moved on his own, allowing paimon to drag him by the sleeve towards the outside of the opera house.
“monsieur?” he heard paimon called before snapping himself out of his thoughts. he noticed her looking at him in concern, realizing he had stopped his tracks right by the door. “are you okay?” she asked.
is he okay? he wondered the same.
he felt an uncomfortable feeling in his chest, as if someone— or something, was banging the drums inside. he felt the drums getting louder and faster, and he could not feel his legs anymore.
he inhaled sharply. “i’m perfectly fine, miss paimon,” he paused in between, “well, let’s meet my… soulmate, shall we?”
his gaze turned towards the entrance of the door, sensing the melusine looking at him eagerly as she patiently waited for him to get ready. “monsieur neuvillette! are you going out?” she asked.
he nodded. “yes, i am. thank you very much.”
the melusine by the door clapped her hands excitedly as she immediately skipped towards the door knob before opening it for him. “well then, enjoy meeting them, monsieur!”
neuvillette watched the door opens before the light outside instantly came greeting him in an embrace.
and the first thing that entered his vision was a pair of heterochromatic eyes that matches his.
you were there with the traveler, dressed in foreign attire not befitting of fontaine. your vision clinging onto your waist like a proud medal. you were by the entrance, surrounded by melusines who were saying how your eyes match their chief justice. he watched how your confused expression tries to have a conversation with the little melusines while the traveler laughed next to you.
the cute moment did not last when the melusines notice the presence of their chief justice, immediately rushing towards him excitedly wanting to ask him about his soulmate. yet his widened eyes had locked with yours, watching your eye adorned with his blueish-purple colour slowly changing back to gold— the familiar gold that greeted him every morning in front of the mirror.
“monsieur neuvillette! your eyes!” he heard a melusine exclaimed, their hands holding his sleeve as they jumped happily.
he blinked confusedly at the tugs of his sleeves when a melusine appeared with a mirror in their hands. they showed a reflection of himself where his eyes were back to his original form— the mixture of silver, blue and purple.
he averted his attention to his soulmate who seemed to be doing the same. you were looking at your own reflection, realizing your eye has reverted to its original form. he watched your surprised expression until you noticed his attention had diverted towards you.
your flushed expressions felt a little foreign to the iudex of fontaine, but he was certainly relieved at the sight of your comfortable state in a foreign region.
he gave you a sincere smile as he placed a hand over his chest as a form of greeting.
“greetings. i’m neuvilette, chief justice and iudex of fontaine. it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
since birth, neuvillette never understood the concept of soulmates until he was given a chance to experience such phenomenon. from when he had awoken to a change in his appearance to encountering the partner that was given to him by fate, it was a surprise that a being like him could have one too.
in fact, his own soulmate was not mortal either. an adeptus originating from the land of gold, you began your exploration in the continent with the fellow traveler when they could not stop persuading you to follow them to meet someone.
a smile was formed on your lips in return as you introduced your name to him, which sounded nice to his ears. “and it’s a pleasure to meet you too, mister neuvillette.”
maybe he could give this concept a try.
_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
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Pity Party.
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Synopsis - Carmy just wants to see you treated the way he thinks you deserve. He decides to take matters into his own hands.
Pairing - Carmen Berzatto x Female Roommate Reader
Word Count - 3k
Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol mention. carmys filthy mouth.
Age Rating - 18+
Author's Note - hello hello hello!! i am back!! i had a wonderful vacation soaking up the sun, and i am feeling refreshed and ready to go. i have had so many ideas over the past few weeks, so i'm excited to get some of them written asap!! this was a fic that came to me randomly, as i was thinking about roommate!carmen and how much of a menace he'd be if you ever talked about other guys. this was written as a part of my carmen roommates collection. it doesn't follow on from Finders, Keepers or Sweet Dreams, but it does exist in the same universe - so you can decide if this takes place before or after!! as always, feel free to send me any ideas or thoughts or burning desires you have. so much love <3
as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3
Series Masterlist. Masterlist. Inbox.
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"You're back early."
Carmy had swung the door open, expecting to come home to an empty apartment. Instead, he's met with the sight of you, sitting on the couch, undoing the straps of your shoes.
"Fuckin' disaster," you mutter, loud enough for him to hear.
He breathes out a chuckle at the stormy look on your face. Carmy thinks you're cutest when you're angry. He aches to smooth the crease between your brows with his thumb.
"That bad?" he asks, taking a seat next you and kicking off his sneakers.
"You wouldn't even believe."
He rises and makes his way to the kitchen, filling the tea kettle and placing it on the stove top. Grabbing two mugs, he casts a glance over his shoulder at you, frowning at your body language. You look defeated.
Carmy steeps two cups of tea, placing one of them carefully into your waiting hands. He resumes his seat on the sofa, pressing his thigh against yours and turning to face you.
"You wanna talk about it?"
You think for a moment before replying.
"You're gonna laugh at me."
His face instantly crumples, confusion written all over it.
"I'll never laugh at you. I'll laugh with you, sure. But never at you."
He nudges your shoulder with his, urging you to go on.
"Okay, fine. The actual date was pretty good. He took me to that Italian place downtown-"
"Dolce Vita? Did you get the truffle pasta I told you about?" Carmy interrupts you before you can continue.
"Yes, oh my God. It was incredible. Do you think you can recreate it sometime?"
"Fuck yeah. They're pretty secretive with their recipes, but I think I can figure it out. You can help me if you want - I'm gonna need a sous chef."
He pulls a reluctant laugh from you, the sound echoing off the ceramic of your mugs. You both know that being the sous chef involves you sitting on the counter drinking wine while Carmy does all the work.
"Of course. I'll always be your sous chef."
"I'll hold you to that."
You smile at him gently, a little taken aback by the sincerity in his voice.
"Anyway. The dinner went great. He seemed super interested in me, asked me questions, told me about his job, his hobbies, his dog. He was hot, and good to talk to. I thought I'd hit the jackpot."
"And then?"
"And then we went back to his apartment. And it all went to shit."
He chuckles, blue eyes glinting in the moonlight.
"Tell me more."
"You really want to hear about all of this?"
It's not like you and Carmy aren't close. You absolutely are. It's just that there's always been this unspoken connection between the two of you. A bubbling, fiery attraction that you both shut down repeatedly, screwing the lid on tight whenever it rears its head. So, you tend to avoid talking to Carmy about dating. You're scared you'll accidentally blurt out the truth - you compare every single date to him.
"Of course I do."
His answer is so genuine it makes you ache. You continue, hesitantly.
"Well... things got a little... heavy. He wasn't a bad kisser, I guess... he just wasn't... a good one? He kept biting my lip super hard and it kinda hurt. Then he pulled my clothes off like a high schooler, and he's on top of me, and I'm waiting for him to sort of... do... anything? And then he's finished. Like, completely done. And then he has the nerve to ask me if I finished."
Carmy's mouth has fallen open, shock etched across his face. After a long, heavy pause, he speaks.
"What the fuck?"
You look at him for moment, before bursting into contagious laughter. He joins you, both of you with your heads thrown back, giggles reverberating around the lowlit room.
"I mean, seriously," he pants, still laughing. "What the fuck?"
"I didn't even answer him. I just put my clothes on, grabbed my bag and left without saying a word."
Every time you try to stifle your laughter, a giggle escapes. The situation wasn't funny at the time, but looking back, it's hilarious.
All of a sudden, you both go silent. You're deep in thought, reflecting on the seemingly never ending stream of bad dates that you've endured. Carmy is watching you intently, ocean blue eyes glued to your face.
"Fuck," you breathe. "This is kinda pathetic."
Carmy inhales deeply, and turns his body so it's facing yours on the couch.
"The way I see it," he begins, "you have two options."
You quirk a brow in confusion and stay quiet, waiting for him to explain.
"You can sit here feeling sorry for yourself, or, you can let me fuck you the way you deserve."
Your mouth falls open in shock at the exact same moment your brain seems to shut down. You can't think. You can't process his words. All you can focus on is the way he's staring at you. You suddenly feel hot under his gaze, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. A shiver runs down your spine, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.
"Wh-... what?" you choke out.
"You heard me, honey. You can wallow in your little pity party, or you can let me show you what it's like to be with someone who can actually make you come. Your choice."
His voice has dropped an octave lower than usual, the tone warm and honeyed. He's still staring at you, blue gaze unrelenting.
"Is this gonna fuck everything up between us?" you whisper hesitantly.
Carmy reaches out and places a gentle hand on your cheek, thumb stroking careful circles into your skin.
"I don't think anything can fuck up what we have," he murmurs. "You're the only thing in my life that makes sense."
His confession seems to sober you up, the honesty in his words snapping you back to your senses.
"Okay."
He almost does a double take at the sureness in your voice.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Put your money where your mouth is, Carmen."
"There she is," he chuckles. "You scared me when you went quiet for a second there."
"Well, if what you say is true, you're not gonna be able to shut me up for the night."
He laughs darkly, and slides closer to you slightly.
"Oh, honey. You're gonna wish you hadn't said that."
He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, tracing the journey of your neck with his fingertips. He rests his hand lightly at the base of your throat, the heavy weight of it making you pant.
"If there's any point where you don't like something, or you want me to slow down, just say so. Okay?"
You nod your head, entranced by the sudden dominance he's displaying. You've never seen this side of him before. You can't believe he's been hiding it this whole time.
"Words, pretty. Need to hear you say it."
"Yes. I understand. I'll tell you, I promise."
He doesn't say anything in reply, just smirks. He lets you sit in the silence for a moment too long, the anticipation slowly killing you.
"Please, Carmen," you breathe. "Please."
"Fuck," he groans, shuffling closer to you. "You sound so pretty when you beg."
Carmy leans in and kisses your cheek gently, testing the waters. He presses a kiss to your other cheek, and pulls back to watch for your reaction. When he's happy, he tilts forward and leaves a careful kiss on your chin, then your forehead, then both of your closed eyes, before kissing you on the side of your mouth. His closeness makes you whine, desperate for him to give you what you want.
Finally, he connects his lips to yours, starting off slow and tender. When you tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and try to pull him even closer, his resolve snaps. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You clamber over him and climb into his lap, straddling his hips and pressing yourself into his body.
Carmy can't decide where to put his hands. He's grabbing at your waist, running his fingers up your back, pulling you into him by your ass. You're both groaning into each others mouths, enraptured by the other person and the all consuming way they kiss.
"Can I take this off?" he asks lowly, pulling at the hem of your dress.
Instead of answering, you pull it over your head, throwing it onto the floor in front of you.
"Fuck," he murmurs. "Most beautiful girl I've ever seen."
His hands are roaming all of your exposed skin, as if he can't get enough. He's terrified he won't ever get to see you like this again, so he's not going to waste a second.
You grind your hips down into his, eliciting a groan from the both of you. His hands tighten their grip on your waist, as he leans up to press open mouthed kisses to your jaw. Your fingers fly to the hem of his t shirt, pulling it off swiftly. You manage to shove his jeans down and off, before attempting to pull off his underwear. Carmy stops you in your tracks.
"Nuh uh," he tuts. "This is about you. Not me."
He pulls you off his lap gently and shuffles so his back is resting against the couch cushions. He spreads his legs wide, and gestures for you to sit between them. When you don't move, he looks at you carefully.
"Give me a color, pretty girl."
You take a deep breath, and smile at him softly.
"Green, Carmen. Promise."
You manoeuvre sideways, so you can place yourself with your back to his chest. He wraps his arms around you for a moment and holds you tightly, as if he's scared you'll disappear any second. You relax into his embrace, all the tension leaving your body. You have nothing to worry about. It's just you and Carmen, in the place you call home.
You drop your head back into Carmy's shoulder, and allow yourself to get lost in the feeling of his hands on your skin. He's begun tracing patterns down your arms, your sides, your stomach, until he reaches your underwear. He plays with the band, dipping his finger underneath in a feather light touch. Goose bumps rise across your body and you shiver, practically vibrating with need.
"Carmen," you whisper. "Don't tease."
"But that's half the fun," he murmurs into your ear, and you can hear the smile in his voice.
You can picture it perfectly, too. The way his eyes crinkle, the way his mouth curves, the way he bites his lip to stifle it. The image in your mind makes you melt into him further. You want to be as close to him as you physically can be. You'd completely disappear into him if you could.
He brings you back to reality by cupping you over your underwear, groaning when he feels the saturated material.
"Oh, pretty girl. Is this all for me? Fuck."
Suddenly, his game of teasing has lost all its fun. Carmy twists his fingers into your underwear and pulls them off in one swift movement, throwing them in the general direction of your dress on the floor. He places a hand on each of your thighs and spreads them apart, hooking them over his legs.
Carmy starts off slow, careful. He caresses over your skin, gentle and almost apprehensive. When he gets to your core, he swipes a finger through, testing the waters. When you buck your hips into his hand, he knows you're both on the same page.
"Just relax, okay? Gonna make you feel good."
His deep, smooth, whiskey like voice is doing nothing to help the heat bubbling in your stomach. You only whine in response, wiggling your hips to urge him to keep going.
Carmy throws one arm around your stomach, keeping you plastered to his body. You can feel him hot and hard against your back, and you so desperately want to feel him that your mouth is watering. You grind back into him, and he reads your mind.
"Not yet," he whispers. "This is about you, remember? Need to show you what you've been missing."
With that, he circles your clit with two fingers, slowly but surely. He revels in the noises you elicit. They're making him dizzy, disorientated. He never thought he'd be the one to pull a sound like that from you. He's quite convinced he's dreaming.
"Let me hear you. Don't hold back on me, okay?"
You nod your head frantically, willing to give him whatever he asks if you get what you want.
Carmy slips a finger into you slowly, moaning under his breath at your warmth. When he thinks you're ready, he adds a second finger, and sets a steady rhythm, trying to figure out what you like.
After he's set his pace, he starts to curl his fingers on the up stroke, grinning to himself when he finds the spot.
"Yeah? Right there? That's it, isn't it?"
You're nodding and shaking and pawing at his forearms, trying to tether yourself to reality in any way you can. You think you might be floating, on cloud 9, in some sort of euphoric trance. You can't believe no one's ever made you feel like this before. You're convinced no one ever will again.
Carmy quickens his pace and basks in the glory of your moans. He thinks this might be the most beautiful you've ever looked, spread out completely for him. Every inch of your skin is touching his, and it makes his heart skip a beat for a second.
He presses a kiss into your hair and keeps his mouth there, murmuring honeyed praises into your ear.
"Doin' so good for me."
"You got it, honey, that's it."
"Atta girl. Keep going. Almost there."
"You look so fuckin' pretty like this. Fuck. Gonna be thinking about this forever."
"I'll ruin you, baby. Nothing's ever gonna compare to this, to what we have."
All you can do is moan in response, his filthy words pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You're almost there, but something is stopping you. You whine in frustration, tears welling in your eyes. Carmy feels the tension suddenly grasp your muscles, and leans down to mutter to you softly.
"What is it, sweet girl? What do you need? Just tell me. Anything, and I'll give it to you."
You're not sure how much you trust your voice right now, so you decide to show him instead. You take the hand that he's using to hold you to him and move it up your body until it's resting against your throat. You tighten your fingers around his, and moan in response to the pressure.
"Oh, baby," he coos. "Filthy fuckin' girl. Here I thought you were so innocent, and this whole time you wanted to be choked like a whore?"
The way he degrades you so lovingly makes you mewl. You'd never ever trust anyone else to speak to you this way in such an intimate moment - but with Carmen, there's no hesitation. You know he's just telling you what you need to hear in the heat of the moment. And you love him for it.
"Fuck, Carmen," you manage to choke out. "Keep going. Don't stop, please."
"I'll do anything you want if you keep saying my name like that," he whispers.
"Carmen," you moan in response. "Carmy Carmy Carmy Carmy Carmy."
You're chanting his name like a prayer. He's rutting into your back, hips grinding and circling in time with his fingers that are maintaining their steady rhythm. His fingers tighten around your throat as he crooks his digits just right, and the result is a devastating moan from you that Carmy wishes to have on repeat for the rest of his life.
"So close," you whisper hoarsely. "Harder."
Carmy uses his thumb to circle your clit with one hand, other hand pulling you by your neck back into him tightly. He grinds his hips dirtily into you, and the feeling of him so silky and warm against you is what sends you over the edge. The corners of your vision go white as you arch into him, head thrown backwards into his chest. The sounds you're making are so melodic, so borderline angelic that Carmy almost cries. Heaven, he thinks. This is salvation.
Carmy finishes with you, climaxing onto the soft skin of your back. You both relax simultaneously, chests heaving and panting. He removes his fingers gently and wraps both arms around you, pulling you into him tightly despite the mess. He reaches to brush the hair out of your face, and the gesture is so tender it makes your lip quiver.
"Thank you," you whisper after what feels like hours of comfortable silence.
"Sorry I called you a whore," he murmurs back.
You let out a surprised laugh, vibrating with amusement in his arms.
"I know you didn't mean it."
"I mean I did give you the best orgasm of your life, so... call it even?"
"You're forgiven," you chuckle. "Completely forgiven."
You trace gentle patterns over his forearms with your fingertips, following the black ink of his tattoos. He sighs in contentment and places a kiss into your hair, relaxing further into the couch.
You sit together like that for a while, neither of you too concerned with the time. It's not often you see Carmy so relaxed, so serene. You're enjoying it for as long as you can.
"We should clean up," he says quietly, eventually. "Sorry about the mess."
"It's okay. Worth it," you tease, pinching his thigh. He pinches your side in retaliation, which makes you jump.
"Come on, trouble."
He stands from the couch, never letting go of the grip he has on you. You have no choice but to stand with him, yelping as he half carries you through the apartment towards the shower.
The sounds of both of your laughter bounce off of the abandoned mugs of tea still sat on the coffee table, melodic and joyous. The moonlight seeps through the windows, illuminating the beginning of something special in the living room of your shared apartment.
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taintedcigs · 2 months
Text
i slept with someone from corroded coffin and all i got was this stupid song written about me.
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ROCKSTAR!FBOY!EDDIE X READER
summary: fooling around with a famous rockstar who's a notorious playboy sounds perfect on paper, until you catch feelings for him. that's why you decide to end things, to not get your feelings get hurt, and its all going perfectly, until eddie releases a song, written all about you.
warnings: smut, p in v, MINORS DNI!!!!, pet names, praising?, lovey dovey, kinda angst and arguments, drgs & alcohol mention, swearing? idk this is kinda cheesy n cute with a mix of fluff sprinkled honestly!
author's note: the indented parts are texts between steve and reader and thenn reader and eddie. they look confusing as fuck im sorry i just wanted to make them look unique but they look stupid. also yes. i patted myself in the back after i found this title (thank you fob). and yes the lyrics are inspired by i don't care im on a fob kick sue me! and ofc fboy!eddie isn't actually that much of a fboy bc if i can't write lovesick eddie ill die. this is super cheesy so i still struggled a lot but UGH. not proof-read ignore all mistakes
also credits to @dumplingsjinson for the prompts! (i changed them but still!) and @saradika for the dividers! pls like + rb + interact w me in anyway to support my writings!! ty!!
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DINGUS sent you a spotify link. did you listen to this? yeah. its kinda romantic. no. the lyrics are insane. n all about u okay? are u at the party rn? yeah. u comin? soon he’s there too u already knew that, didn’t u?  false accusations r rude, steve.
You click your phone off with a groan, but he was right. You couldn’t stay away from him, and maybe, just maybe, this was your way of running into him, accidentally. 
Because ever since he released the song, the tabloids had gone crazy with it, half of the lyrics screamed you and all of the old headlines pointed at you, the mystery girl Eddie used to be seen with, and you really were growing tired of seeing your name next to “Munson’s new girl.” 
Because you weren’t his new girl, you weren’t his anything. He was a cocky asshole who was good with a guitar and was even better at fucking. And that was something both of you could relate to, the only thing you had in common with him. Or, so you thought. 
But of course, as with everything else, the things between you changed, you started staying over, he started staying over, and the two of you even went on fucking dates, disguising them under ‘we were just hungry, is all.’ 
You tried to keep up the cool girl act, like you could fuck someone and not catch feelings. Every inch of you itched not to care, to act like it was all fine, but it was all fucking bullshit, you cared, so fucking much that your chest ached. The more you got to know him, the more you fell for him, and the more you fell for him, the more you realized there was no fucking way this would work. 
Cocky rockstar who spent more time doing drugs than sleeping, with girls all over him? The imaginary red flag bells rang in your ear, even now. He wasn’t looking for a relationship and you knew that. That’s why you ended it two months ago. Or at least, you started ignoring him two months ago. 
Yet, he had been calling and texting you, wanting to meet up, drunken slurs of nonsense, gibberish voicemails, and yet you never answered, because if you did, you knew you’d be back to pathetically swooning over him.
Until today, just because of that stupid song, like it meant anything. That douchebag probably wrote songs about every girl he fucked. 
You weren’t special. 
Another ding sound from your phone almost startled you, the contact name made you groan even louder. “don’t FUCKING answer.” That didn’t mean shit. It was just something stupid to make you feel better that you couldn’t stay away from him, because you knew, deep down that if you really didn’t want him to contact you, you would’ve deleted his number, and blocked him. You were too chicken shit to do that, and still desperately wanted to hear from him. 
So you settled on that contact name. Like it made a difference, like it changed anything. 
DONT FUCKING ANSWER did you listen to the song?
Don’t fucking answer. The contact name should be enough to convince yourself that.
Too late.
                                                                   no. don’t lie to me, sweetheart.                                                                            why would i lie?
You sink into the couch, a much quieter corner of the party, not even bothering to socialize. Your brows furrow, index finger flying to your lips anxiously, as you chew on it to patiently wait for an answer.
You sip on your drink with a nervous gaze on your screen, barely noticing the way the couch sink further when someone else took a seat next to you. 
“Hi.” The gravelly voice pulls your attention away from the screen, making you set your drink aside as you look up, finding yourself face-to-face with him. 
Shaggy bangs cascade onto his forehead, and with your exaggeration, it looks longer than the last time you saw him. Black jeans cladded with chains. A graphic tee messily thrown over his heavily tatted chest, that you could still imagine right about now—pathetic. He looked just about the same, the deep dimple adorning his soft cheeks had seemed to disappear, wearing a scowl instead, that tiny voice in your head told you that was your doing, that maybe he was just as miserable as you. Maybe your feelings weren’t fully one-sided.  
Shit. 
“Eddie?” Squeaky, and annoying, you were sure that’s how your tone sounded, yet he didn’t seem to comment on it.
“‘m glad you remember my name, sweetheart,” he scoffs sarcastically, leaning further into the plush couch, elbow propped at the side, eyeing you with frustration. 
“W—what the hell are you doing here?” You stutter as if you weren’t expecting to run into him. Full of bullshit. 
“Did ya really think you could ignore me forever, huh?” He tilts his head slightly, almost expectedly, earning an eye roll from you. 
“I wasn’t ignoring yo—”
Eddie tuts quickly, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that cuts through the ambient noise of the party, “I thought we said no more lies, huh?” 
With a huff, “Why are you here, Eddie?” you mumble.
“Am I not allowed to party?” He banters, brows slightly raised, making you huff out an exasperated breath, your eyes bore into him, almost to signal him ‘Take this seriously.’
“I wanted to know what you thought.” He shrugs like it was normal to just come running after everything just to know what you thought of the song. 
“The song?” He nods in confirmation.
“Didn’t like it,” you confess, avoiding his gaze, but your brows betray you, lifting ever so slightly.
He tsks, shutting you off quickly, “You see that little quirk your brow did? That only happens when you lie, you can’t help it. You do that when I ask you if you ate the last pizza slice, or when I ask if you watched the next episode of the show we were supposed to watch together, or when you—” 
“Fine, fine! I liked it,” you groan, interrupting him and suddenly standing up from the comfort of the couch, being so face-to-face with him immediately making your nerves bubble.
“Just liked?” He tilts his head slightly, a smirk curving on his lips. 
A deep sigh of breath, “what do you want, Munson?”
He stands up with you, making you back away from him with a heavy footstep, the entire party was too loud and crowded, yet, in this stupid corner, it was just the two of you. “For you to admit that you loooved the song, and how much you missed me,” he sing-songs, taking a step closer to you, musky smell invading your senses, making you take a deep breath.
Both of you stand near the wall, and it should be awkward, it should be enough to make you leave, but all it does is draw you closer to him.
“You’re annoying.” 
“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”
“I wasn’t avoiding—” He tuts, with his stupid index finger up, rejecting your lie.
“I—I don’t know what you expected.” You shrug, so nonchalantly that his gaze narrows, chest aching with the implications of your words.
“We both knew this wouldn’t last forever, didn’t we?” You chew the inside of your lip to stop those tears that had been begging to flow ever since you listened to the song, wiping off that smirk on Eddie’s lips. 
“Would’ve been nice if I got a reminder, and not have been just fully ghosted, huh?” The brunette grumbles with a downturn of his lips, shaking his head in disbelief. 
“Oh, don’t act all high and mighty, isn’t that what you do all the fucking time?” you snap, gaze narrowed, and arms crossed against your chest. 
“Fuck girls and then leave them? Did it crush your ego this fucking much that I did before you could?” 
“What the fuck does that mean?” He retaliates. 
“It means I was smart enough to pull myself away from your bullshit,” you rasp, disdain written all over your face.The room seems to shrink as the distance between you decreases. 
Another step closer to you, and you didn’t realize your back had hit the wall now. “My bullshit? God, that’s fucking rich, if I seem to recall correctly sweetheart, you were in this as much as I fucking was!”
“Oh, was I?” You bark out a chuckle, cruel, mocking, “I don’t remember being okay with you fucking half the city.” Realization of how bitter and jealous that sounds, dawns on you much later than the words leave your lips, and thankfully, Eddie’s too fucking immersed to realize the double meaning of your words. 
“Are you fucking kidding? No strings attached! Non-exclusive! That’s what you fuckin’ signed up for!” His voice echoes, mirroring his frustration, and you open your mouth.
But he doesn’t let you speak further, cutting you off sharply. “Is this all because of that new guy you’re seein’?” 
“What? What guy?” 
“The one who was all over you earlier,” he bites out, jaw clenched, and you can almost taste his bitterness in the air.  
“The same one you fucked at Jeff’s party.”
“Are you stalking me, Munson?” 
“Did you just want an excuse to end things? Are the two of you serious or somethin’?” His voice wavered between anger and desperation, gaze pathetically searching for yours, to gauge your reaction.
You scoff. Did he really think you’d end things because of a stupid fling you had which in the first place occurred just so you could forget him? He was so goddamn clueless it drove you insane. 
But what you didn’t realize was that you were just as clueless, if not more, because why would he write a song all about you, if this was just about sex? Because who would get so jealous of someone they didn’t care about? 
Say my name and his in the same breath.
I dare you to say they taste the same. 
The lyrics from his stupid song swirled your thoughts, yet you were still too stupid to see it, weren’t you?
Another step closer to you, a dangerous game the two of you liked to play. He smelled alluring, a fucked up mix of nicotine, his musky cologne, and that damn leather jacket. “Do you really think, he could compare to me, sweetheart?” 
Say my name and his in the same breath.
“Tell me he’s fucking better, and he’s actually what you want, and I’ll fucking leave, I’ll bury all the other songs I wrote, tell me, and I’ll be out of your hair forever.”
I dare you to say they taste the same. 
And just like that, all the defenses you put up, all the times you ignored him, they are cracked, disappearing into thin air. You hate it, you hate that he has this effect on you, you can feel your mind getting hazier, eyes blinking rapidly to process what the fuck is going on, and his face is mere inches away from yours. You knew their names didn’t taste the same. And you knew he could never ever compare to Eddie.
“Tell me,” he encourages, dares you to. You fail to notice how much emotion his gaze carries, how the corners of his lips twitch, just at the thought of you finally admitting you don’t want him. His stomach turns at the thought, this is his last chance, he knows that, and he can’t fucking lose you. He can’t. 
And you don’t know any of that, but you knew, know that no one else could compare to him. And you hate yourself for thinking that, you hate yourself for falling for him, the world stops rotating on its axis when he’s in your peripheral vision, and it’s fucking disgusting. Pathetic. Stupid. Because you know the two of you have no chance. But here you are. 
“H—he is b—” Of course, your brow quirks up almost immediately, betraying you quicker than you can even attempt to lie. 
That dawning smirk appears on his lips again, it’s mocking, and just as much smug. You want to wipe it off of his stupidly pretty face. “Tell me,” he dares you, again. This time much cockier and confident, and you suddenly realize how small you feel under him.
“He isn’t,” your meek voice is barely audible.
And you don’t register the shaky breath he draws when the words leave your lips, giving him the confirmation he needs. You wanted him, he had no fucking clue why you ghosted him, yet you still wanted him. Just as much as he wanted you. 
Both of his hands were placed on the wall now, towering over you, making your breath get caught up in your throat. “Speak up.”
“No, fuck! You know he’s not, you know he could never fucking compare to you, you fucking know tha—” He shuts you up with a rough kiss, lips pressed against yours messily, letting the petty comments die down your throat. Because this is all he wanted, needed to hear anyway. 
“Up,” he grunts into the kiss, tapping your thighs, hoisting you up from your waist to help you wrap your legs around him, tight, he wants you at his mercy, locked to him. 
You wrap your legs around him, barely, the melty sensation in your knees making you so shaky that he barks out a laugh into your lips, holding you close, firm, the butterflies in your stomach traveling all across your body.
He lifts you up as if you are weightless, arms wrapped around you strongly as he carries you to the nearest empty bedroom, impressively without hitting your back anywhere, so roughly that your core throbs at the feeling of his arms around you.
“Baby,” he mutters as he lowers you down on the bed swiftly, smooth, gaze darkened and pupils blown wide, all the pent up desire waiting to explode. 
“Eddie,” you beg, shaky voice sounding purely angelic to his ears once he got rid of his shirt, shrugging it off with a huff, his fingertips grazing against your top, feeling your hardened nipples, causing gasps out of you, he’s quick to pull it over your head while you run your fingers up the grooves of his stomach, the tip of your fingertips almost burns everywhere you touch. 
He groans at the sight of your bare breasts, “missed thi-you,” he corrects himself, because that’s all he wanted anyways, you. 
He nips at your nipples, tongue good at giving attention to both of them, all wet and warm, making you squirm under his touch, you’re quick to get rid of everything else, leaving you in your panties, making him grunt. 
The pad of his thumb rubs against your left nipple, leaving goosebumps in its wake, while his other hand travels down your chest, then your stomach, finally drawing circles when it stops between your thighs, ghosting over your panties before he tugs them down your legs, spreading them apart with a slight hum, pupils blown so wide that you can’t admire those chocolate hues anymore. 
He visually drinks in that sight of you, laid down on the couch, eyes squeezed shut, back arched, and he hasn’t even touched you yet. You’re completely at his mercy and his chest aches with need. “So pretty like this f’me,” he coos into your chest, pushing his middle finger inside of you. Making you feel so good that you can’t stop the gasps coming out of your lips.   
Pleasure shivers through everywhere he sucks and touches, his finger eases into you when he adds another one, a moan escaping you quickly. “Need to be in here, sweetheart, d’ya have any idea how much I missed this?” 
You don’t. You don’t know about the sleepless nights, the drunken ones, the drug-induced ones in an attempt to recreate the high you gave him. It’s fucked up, it’s insanely toxic. Yet, he can’t get enough of you. 
His gaze upon you is dangerous, maybe it’s because he had missed you so goddamn much, or maybe because he didn’t know where this would lead, but it felt fucking sentimental, different somehow, and he could feel you, everywhere on his skin.
Your hips start rocking up against him when the pad of his thumb flicks over your clit, making you arch your back, whines, mumbles leaving your lips. And all he can muster is, “so goddamn beautiful, look at you whining for me.”
You can feel his bulge rub against your thigh every now and then, it’s distracting, almost agonizing. You desperately need it inside of you, you had missed him, missed his touch, missed the feeling of him filling you to the brim, you missed seeing his face contort in pleasure when he was inside of you, you wanted him to never forget you again. 
That’s why you feel so numb, can barely speak, and of course, Eddie notices, how unusually quiet you are, and he wants to make this unforgettable, just so you have another reason to come back to him. Just so you don’t leave him, just so you stay forever. 
“Gone too quiet on me, honey, tell me what you need,” he coos down at you, thumb still caressing your pussy, and all you can fucking do is chew down on your bottom lips, eyeing his bulge that was begging to get out. And he barks out a goddamn chuckle, “P—please, Eddie.” Pathetically leaves your lips. 
And normally he would make you beg, tease further, but he reaches to tug down his pants quickly, because fuck, he had missed you. And he can’t bear the thought of not being inside of you any longer. 
Thinking is not your strongest suit right now either, your brain is mushy, all the nights and days spent thinking about him, about this explodes into your body. Your pussy aches when you finally see his cock again, a sound of need leaving your lips as you eye his length, so big that pleasure ripples through you, especially when you see his gushy tip, glistening with pre-cum. 
You want every fucking inch inside of you, and Eddie’s more than ready to oblige, “What do you need, baby? Tell me.”
“Need you, Eddie,” you moan, all fucked out, his fingers slip in and out of you still, but it isn’t enough for him. He needs more, he craves your validation like he never has before. 
“God, you’re soakin’ my fingers, princess,” he grunts, wedging himself between your thighs, weeping cock drips onto your inner thighs, making you moan breathlessly. “Tell me exactly what you fuckin’ want, honey.”
“Eddie.” His name sounds like silk, even when it’s so lewd, Eddie decides, and it makes him let out an impatient huff. “P—please. Need you to fuck me.” It’s so goddamn desperate that you can feel heat rise to your cheeks, but it’s everything to him.
“Want you to fuck me like you mean it.”
“Oh, that’s easy, sweetheart,” he grunts, lining his cock through your entrance, coating himself in your slick, enjoying your mewls before he doesn’t hesitate to push his cock inside of you, inch by inch, relishing the way you cry out for him. 
Greedily, you rock your hips into him, making him let out a frustrated groan. “Have no fuckin’ idea how much I missed this greedy cunt, sweetheart, shit.” He thrusts in a few more inches, and breathless moans and babbles of his name fill the air.
“Suckin’ me right in, baby, fuck, you’re so pretty like this, mhmm.” His cock moves inside of you, and your hands are wrapped around his back, desperately clawing at it, the fullness making you want more, “you like that, baby, like bein’ full of me?” A heavy sound leaves his lips, pathetic and you pulse around him. 
“S’so good Eddie, and s’big,” you barely manage to let out, and he watches you with that burning amber gaze, thrusting all the way in without hesitation. Those plushy lips that hang open, that filthy mouth, the prettiest fucking features—you, were going to be the death of him. 
Maybe it’s because you had missed him, or maybe because you hadn’t experienced this in a long time, or fuck, maybe, just maybe that the song had created a new type of need between the two of you. Using sex as a sort of connection that the both of you desperately needed. But, shit, was it this different this time. 
He felt different—his lips, touch, skin as it slapped against yours, it was different. 
Full. You feel so fucking full that your back involuntarily arches against him, fingers clenching desperately, your screams and cries filling the room the more he plunges inside of you, deeper, hungry, and just as greedy as you. 
“Yeah, better than that asshole?” It rolls off his lips so bitter and jealous that you can barely register it. Not being used to this possessive side of him, and it’s glorious, especially when he’s pounding his frustrations and insecurities into you. 
“Mhmm, so much better.” You clawed at his back, every thrust of his hip making you feel higher and higher, mind filled with nothing but him. 
“So pretty like this when you say my name, sweetheart… so goddamn beautiful, and all mine, yea?” He wants a confirmation, and wants to hear you say it, his head ducking between your breasts again to kiss, taste, suckle them. Make sure he never forgets it. 
“Wanna hear you say it.” He hums, the vibrations reverberating through your chest straight into your core, cock plowed so deep inside of you that you can barely speak through your cries, hitting that sweet spot that every other asshole misses. 
You’re too scared to give him what he wants. But you feel him, everywhere, and you still want more, of course, you’re his. That’s all you fucking wanted anyway. Plushy lips shake as you gaze up at him, his amber hues are so sticky-sweet that you still struggle to process it, words come out in a ramble “All yours, Eddie.”
His mouth crashes onto yours roughly, desire coursing through both of your bodies, almost interconnected. “Shit, fuckin’ hell sweetheart, ‘m not gonna last long.” His thrusts are getting sloppier, yet you feel the ravaging desire coursing through your veins. 
“So perfect,” he murmurs, the kiss he lays on your lips just as relentless, not letting you breathe or think for a goddamn second, you’re so goddamn close.
And you wonder, how the fuck did you even go two months without this? Without him?
“Eddie!” You cry out once you feel the pad of his thumb rubbing against your clit, eyes squeezed shut as your orgasm washes over you. Pure bliss overtakes you while you claw at his back, his body tenses, and cock flexes as he cums inside of you, groans and curses left in your hair. 
Minutes pass of you lying next to each other, breathless, processing everything that just transpired. And you should feel guilty, embarrassed, and should run to the hills for doing this with him again. 
But you’re obsessed, addicted. He’s like an excitement that you’re sure you’ve never felt before, running through your veins, like a fucking drug. 
Both of you get dressed in silence, the party booming outside is quick to bring the two of you back to reality, and out of the trance that he pulled you in. 
He breaks your bewilderment with a slight “Fuck.” Standing on the opposite side of the bed before he fully turns to you. “This wasn’t—I was supposed to talk to you.” He mutters, fingertips anxiously running through his tousled hair.
Caught off guard and awfully curious, you mumble, “About what?”
“The song…”
“I told you I liked it.”
His brow furrows deeper, and he shakes his head in frustration. “No, that’s not it—uh, did you not listen to the lyrics?”
“I did.”
“And?”
Your face searches his for some clarity, you take a step closer to him, the distance between the two of you was still awfully much according to him. “What are you asking of me, Eddie? Did you really think one song would just solve everything?”
“You don’t get it, do you?”
“W—what am I supposed to get Eddie? You wanna have your cake and eat it too! And I just can’t fucking do that, not anymore.”
“That’s—that’s not it!” His voice wavers, with urgency, and desperation in his tone. He takes a step forward, attempting to bridge the emotional gap, feeling so fucking frustrated that he wants to rip his hair out.
“Then fucking explain it to me!” You plead. 
“You want an explanation, fine! Fucking fine!” His frustration echoed through the room, pacing back and forth, making you take a deep breath. 
Was he… actually gonna do this? 
“You wanna know what the fuck I’ve been doing ever since you ghosted me?” He ran a hand through his hair, scared, gaze all mellow and vulnerable in a way you have never seen before. It makes your shoulders slump when you nod. 
“I go to those stupid Hollywood parties, meet asshole rockstars—the most interesting shit, yet somehow someway the thought of you will pop up in my mind, uncalled for, might I add, and then I can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop thinking about you the whole fucking day.” Your eyes widen, trying to absorb his revelation, yet he won’t stop rambling and you feel your chest tighten with each word, fuck, he’s finally doing it.
“I—I never—shit! I never thought myself capable of feeling things like this, but fuck, you came along, with that goddamn smile, throwing a manicured middle finger right in my face, a—and just put up with my bullshit.” His voice softened, and he couldn’t help but trace the contours of your face, to desperately know if you were on the same boat, and you look at him with such glistened eyes that his heart leaps to his stomach. 
“My world flipped upside down, and you have proven me, so goddamn wrong that I don’t even know who the fuck I am anymore!” The tears almost welled in your eyes, because, fuck, there was no way this was real.  
You reached out instinctively, the corner of your mouth twitching uncontrollably. “E—Eddie, please… please stop saying things you don’t fucking mean.” 
“Things I don’t mean?” He gives you a breathy chuckle, ironic, and nowhere near funny. His eyes bore into yours, intense and searching. “Do you think I like feeling whatever the hell this is? I fucking don’t, you have me acting like someone I’m so unfamiliar with, to the point where it scares me. All I can think about is you, you, you, because you occupy every single space of my mind.” Your eyes soften, the room seemingly pulsing with his emotions, making you feel hot everywhere on your body. 
He felt the same way.
Eddie felt the same way. 
“B—but fuck I’m scared, honey, I’m so goddamn scared,” He admits, the vulnerability in his voice cutting through the tension before he’s at your side, calloused hands grabbing you by the shoulder, so softly that you melt into him.
“Because what if—what if all of this comes crashing down one day?” His voice trembles, gaze avoiding yours, he was scared, so goddamn scared of losing you. Forever. He doesn’t want that, he couldn’t afford that. 
“Just two months away from you fucking sucked. I didn’t—I don’t wanna feel these things, but you make it so hard not to.”  His forehead rests against yours, making you suck in a deep breath, it’s all so fucking sentimental, and all you wanna do this kiss him, tell him you feel the exact same way. Tell him about your fears. 
“And now I can’t fucking stop, fuck,” He confesses, admission punctuated by a frustrated sigh. 
“I wrote you a song,” he gently caresses your cheek, and you’re so scared to look up at him, to meet his tender gaze, because you know you can’t hold yourself back. 
“I came over to this party in a frenzy when I found out you’d be here,” he continued, his fingers tracing a delicate pattern along your jawline. “I—I just I haven’t even been able to touch another girl.” Your eyes snap open, you’re sure they’re almost heart-shaped now, with the adoration you look at him.
“And, do you actually fucking think I'd write songs for just anyone—” His question lingers in the air before you shut him up with a kiss, rough, sweet, and making Eddie feel dizzy all over, his head struggles to comprehend it all, breathless but he manages to react just in time.
The booming music becoming a mere background noise when he had you, mind swirling with all the possibilities and mouth begging to never stop tasting you. He wants to let you completely engulf him, feel you everywhere.
Everything he wanted and more.
He fucking hates himself for doing this, but he pulls away, mesmerized, eyes so wide that you can’t believe this is Eddie, he’s all flustered, salmon pink. And it makes a wider grin sit on your lips. “So… you—uh, what does this mean?”
You smile at him, lips widely stretching into a grin, as you shrug. “It means I feel the same, Eddie.” you admit, tone a tender reassurance. “That’s why I tried to shut you out… to try to move on, because I was scared—fuck, but I feel the same way.”
“So, does that mean we're dating now?”
“We can take things slow, figure everything out?” you mutter with a shy gaze, lips itching to twitch into a smile, again. “But I—uh—I like you, I really, really like you.”
“Gone soft on me already, sweetheart?” he mumbles with a stupid grin, making you elbow him softly, with an exaggerated playful huff. 
He’s quick to flinch, rubbing his arm as if you even delivered a powerful blow. “Ow—what the hell is wrong with you?”
“You think I’m going soft? You’re the one who wrote his feelings as an exaggerated love song!” 
He leans further slightly, his grin widening when you gave him those adorable eyes, finding you both equally amusing and endearing. “Oh… just you wait.”
You arched a brow, curiosity piqued, “What the hell does that mean?”
“The album is coming out soon, sweetheart. If you think this was an exaggeration, you should hear the whole fucking thing.”
That glint re-appears in your eyes just as quickly, gaze softening as you melt into his embrace.
“You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson.” You tease, scrunching your nose at him, so adorably that he leans down and presses a gentle kiss onto your hair.
He's an idiot, a total complete fucking idiot, but he's all yours.
2K notes · View notes
pwncez · 1 year
Text
  𝓈ℴ𝒻𝓉𝒽ℯ𝒶𝒹ℯ𝒹 .ᐟ
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꒰ 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 . . . ꒱ 6.3k word count , fem reader , soff’ dom nanami , bimbo / hyperfeminine reader , sex in a tent ( semi - public ) , meanie gojo , you and nanami are engaged , reader’s twenty four ( 24 ) + nanami’s twenty six ( 26 ) , pet name usage ( ex. baby, little one ) , thigh fucking , fingering , tummy bulgin , cervix kissing , daddy kink , squirting .
milkie’z note to you .ᐟ . . . hai hai haiiii :p i wrote dis like over a year ago so ,, take it easy on lil ol mi<3 i noticed dat my writing style has changed a bit ! minors do not interact !
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“do you have everything?”
the sharp clicks of your five inch, baby pink, platformed jimmy choo heels are rhythmic as they tap quickly against the curved, grey cemented footpath in front of your home that leads towards the driveway as you saunter towards your fiancé’s big bodied mercedes-benz gls class truck. you can hear the shuffles and shifts of duffel bags and the wheels of your pink, vintage, dior suitcases and carry ons rolling that nanami had been lugging behind you.
retorting through a gentle coo, you give a, “i have everything nanami,” watching him haul all of your luggage towards the trunk of the car. his muscles flex and constrict underneath the silk, cranberry red button up shirt he wore as he stacks them all atop his two duffel bags like a complex game of tetris and you tilt your head in interest when a piece of blond hair falls across his forehead within his moil and effort.
you can’t help but notice it. he’s so handsome.
releasing a weighty huff from his chest before slamming the trunk closed, nanami dusts off his hands and fixes you with a calm, albeit subtly knowing, honey-brown eyed stare that makes you nibble on the tip of your tapered square acrylic and give him a delicate, innocent smile.
“do you have everything?” he repeats more slowly.
your smile lessens into puffed cheeks and a pout, “yes, i have everything. i think i’d know if i missed something, ‘m not dumb kento—“
“—the minute this car,” he points to it. “leaves this driveway,” his finger flicks downward to the cement, “i’m not turning back. so,” his steps are idle and steady once he starts to walk closer to you. he brings with him an air of effortless authority and sway that makes your knees almost buckle. he smells delicious, too — like, a tinge of burnt vanilla and woodsy tobacco. your eyes are hazy and unfocused when you have to lift them to look up to his tall, six foot height.
nanami notices this and it doesn’t take him by surprise. it’s often more than not that he has to snap his fingers or grip you by the chin with two fingers to center you back down to earth’s gravity. you’re a mess. “do . . . you . . . have . . . everything?” he asks you softly with his index’s knuckle holding your chin up to demand your full, undivided attention. your soft nod is more than enough for him. but you’re his mess.
his voice is still gentle when he mutters, “okay.”
he should probably let you go and open the door so that you two can head out on the road, nevertheless, still, nanami can’t exactly help it. with you this close, he gets a good look at your pretty, no, fucking enchanting face — from your plush lips glittering with your favorite, piña colada scented gloss and the pearls studded along your eyelids that fall into half lids into your irises. “why are you so perfect, hm?”
you grow flustered. you give a tiny squeak and giggle, throwing your arms over his strong shoulders and kick a leg up as you do. the kiss you press against his lips has a bright smack of lipgloss transferring onto them which, oddly, nanami is used to by now. he doesn’t bother to wipe it off, just opens the passenger side’s door so that you can hop up and slide inside the fine, leather interior, then shuts it so that he can round the car and slip into the driver’s.
“i’m so excited,” you’re babbling to him while fluffing your hair and gazing at your reflection through the sun visor’s mirror. “we’re gonna eat s’mores and sing songs and . . .” your words trail off.
nanami thinks it’s because you don’t know what else there is to do. this was your first time going camping — it’s to be expected. “uh,” he rotates the wheel with the heel of his palm while turning onto the freeway’s ramp entrance. “i think you’ll like catching fireflies . . we can go out on a midnight swim in the lake, stargaze—“
“—no,” you whine and fold your arms. “baby, w-wait, i forgot my phone — oh, god, and my lipgloss . . .”
nanami should’ve known. no matter how many times he asked did you have everything, and no matter how many times you answered yes, he should have gone, combed through the house and checked himself. he shakes his head, eyes steady and focused on the road. “i’m not going back,” is all he tells you.
“but nanami—“
“—what did i tell you?” he spares a quick glance at you, not shocked to see a precious, little face full of dejection staring back at him. “i asked you did you have everything, three times. no,” his head shakes again and leans back to start to steer the wheel from atop with one hand while the other arm leans on his door’s armrest. “i’m not going back.”
“. . . kentoooo.”
nanami tells himself that he needs to put his foot down with this one. he won’t give in. he won’t. he won’t.
but you’re something else.
there’s something about you that makes the man bend and succumb to your every desire and wish, no matter how far out or bizarre. he’s aware that not much of anything resides within that pretty head of yours. you weren’t the smartest, or if you could have put it, ‘the sharpest light bulb in the shed’ ( point proven ) but you were his and nanami adored you even so. it’s why he slid a four carat diamond ring on that little finger of yours only two years after meeting you for the very, first time.
you had came from a very affluent and well-fixed family — father was the chief financial advisor of a banking corporation and your self-acclaimed hippie of a mother owned a line of essential oils that both housewives and single men alike adored. you had grown up with a golden spoon in your mouth to put straightforwardly, and upon first encounters at a charity gala, nanami had only spoke two sentences to you before he was calling you a spoiled brat with a vacant, impassive expression steamed upon the sharp lines and ridges of his gorgeous face.
you threw a little tantrum, of course — told your daddy on him which, let’s face it, was the most ridiculous and yet, amusing, thing he’s ever seen in all of his, then, twenty four years on earth. ditzy you. you hadn’t known that nanami had met your father before, albeit a few times, and the two of them had formerly established a nice and civil relationship between one another. your face dropping into one of dumbfoundment when you had saw the two shake hands and pick up a conversation on stocks and rising taxes still replays in nanami’s head from time to time.
“you’re the best!” you’re leaning over the middle console to smack a soft kiss into the light scruff of ashen blond hair making home along his jawline when nanami’s climbing back into the car thirty minutes later with your pink iphone and three tubes of lipgloss in hand. “thank you, my love.”
he gives you a simple sigh, “this is the first and last time i’m turning back, do you hear me?”
the hour and a half drive up to the state’s forest is spent with the two of you listening to your customized, ariana grande playlist and you pointing your finger against the window and gasping with glee when you happen to pass a field of cows or horses — tiny, “nanami, nanami! look, look!”s pushing past your lips and him humming and giving you a nod with a slight, “i see, baby.”
having nanami’s big hand clutch your thigh and getting to sit pretty beside him are the only reasons why you enjoy car rides. usually, you’re insufferable. it’s hard for you to keep still sometimes. at home you’re always in the kitchen whipping up new recipes you found on pinterest, irregardless of the fact that you have to run back and forth between it and nanami’s home office to ask him what two thirds of a cup was and what was the point of following the recipe step by step. it had indicated for you to bake the cake at two hundred degrees but you wouldn’t be anything if you weren’t impatient. cranking the heat up to four hundred wouldn’t be that big of a deal, right? it’ll speed up the process.
safe to say, there’s been more than a few instances where all of the windows within your home had to stay opened all night to allow the smell of burnt batter to air out, and nanami keeps a fire extinguisher on hand underneath the sink.
you get to stare at him, too — get to sit and admire his flawless side profile and how his favorite, bronzed rolex wrapped around his wrist gleamed a bright flare into your eyes each occasion the sun’s rays hit it when he happened to turn the wheel. and within the smattery cosmic of your mind upon staring at him for too long, you’re always reminded that you hadn’t known what love had felt like until you met nanami kento.
the words he whispers to you underneath the silent comfort of your bed sheets gives sweet, candied fruit and glacé sorbet a run for their money. the way he kisses your temple when he gathers you within the opulence of his arms is incapable of comparison, nonetheless still, the feeling that blooms within the gates of your heart when he does reminds you of a steaming hot trill of jasmine tea sliding down your throat during a cold day in december. he’s simply everything to you and he makes sure you know that you’re everything to him and more.
“oi! nanami, you’re almost two hours fuckin’ late.”
the sound of shoes scraping against loose pebbles and gravel doesn’t mix well with your whines and aggravated huffs. you’re struggling to walk up the short hill that surfaces out into an open, even plane of dirt that spreads out about five yards length and width — surrounding your campsite is nothing but tall trees of cedar and pine.
gojo had lifted open the flap of the dome tent that had been assembled near the entrance of the trail. he lets out a long, low whistle upon the view of nanami lugging up three duffel bags and two carry ones over his back and arms and places his hands on his hips. gojo gives a bright smile. “that’s what i like to see. you’re working the hell out of him — ah, nanami would you like some help?”
before nanami can cut his eyes at him in annoyance, gojo’s blatantly ignoring him and offering you a hand to help you not twist an ankle on a random stone. he’s laughing when he asks you, “any higher heels and you could’ve broke your neck.”
your eyes are full of fear when they look up into his at the simple thought of that happening, “you think so? should i . . should i have not worn these? but all i brought were heels.”
“you’re fine,” nanami lets the baggage fall to the ground with dull thuds and scowls at gojo. “i’ll carry you on my back if we happen to walk a long distance.”
utahime’s exiting the pop up tent that had been constructed a few feet away from gojo’s and she’s smiling upon the view of you two and immediately pulling you in for a warm hug, “it’s always so nice to see you,” she sighs. “oh!“ her eyes widen upon her first view of an influx of pink suitcases and bags while nanami crouches low to unzip a duffel to start constructing the tent. “you brought a lot.”
“i had to,” you bite your bottom lip over a pretty grin. “you didn’t? but . . — nanami am i the only one who brought so many things?” your eyes are cutely wide with the new revelation.
gojo nods, “yes.”
though at the same time nanami tells you, “no,” he even looks up at you from what he’s doing to assure you that. “you brought just enough, angel.”
and his word is always right. your pretty face brightens again and you clap your hands quickly, “okay, good,” you giggle. “can i help you build the tent?”
nanami’s giving you the go ahead, allowing you to walk over and grab the pamphlet of instructions. upon first opening it, you’re greeted with black and white pictures of what was supposed to be in the kit and there’s arrows pointing to where and how you’re supposed to assemble poles and hooks. your brain quickly goes haywire. “hm,” you bite your bottom lip.
gojo’s calling out, “ah, don’t stress yourself out too much, sweetheart.”
you huff a pout and nanami’s letting a small smile lift his lips as he gently pries the pamphlet from your manicured fingers. truthfully, he just wanted to see how you’d react to them, see if you’d try to stick it out and try to understand them or not. he knows that you will, you always try to, however, “i got it,” he takes one of your hands and pulls it close to stow a sweet kiss upon your knuckles. “why don’t you go rest your pretty feet in utahime’s tent while i get finished with ours, huh?”
the sugarcoated pout that takes over your lips has nanami’s heart in a vise. “but . . i want to help. i’m not dumb, kento—“
“—i know you aren’t but, still this is hard and i don’t want you fussing over this, beautiful. gotta save all that intellect for later on in our trip.”
he always knows what to say. your pout starts to lift into a smile which you try to fight but he sees right through it. as much as you know you can be a little dense headed, you try just as hard to power through it. nanami thinks it’s cute. his eyes glow akin to seas of liquid gold when he smiles and kisses your knuckles again. “go on.”
you sigh a little, “fine.”
the minute you’re inside the tent with utahime, nanami’s smile is falling upon first look at gojo. “one more slick comment and your head’s going to be floating in that fucking lake.”
there’s a big, gum-showing smile stretching his cheeks as the man leisurely walks over to nanami who starts to separate the materials into separate piles. “two years, man . . and you’re engaged to her,” he sucks his teeth and crouches down beside him. “gotta give you your props, nanami.”
“just admit it, satoru,” nanami doesn’t need the instructions. he flicks them away with a finger and starts to assemble the tent as if he had done it dozens times before. “you’re mean to my fiancé because you want to fuck her.”
the splutters that follow nanami’s words are loud however, both men know that they are true. gojo acknowledges that there’s no point in lying. once nanami kento has his mind made up about something, there’s no point in trying to change it. “so what?” is all he says while childishly flinging a pebble nanami’s way so that it hits his arm. “she’s pretty . . and she’s dumb. what more can you ask f—“
gojo prides himself on having quick reflexes . . and nanami does the same.
the second the blond reaches out to snatch his neck up and around so that his arm is wrapped around it and gojo’s in a headlock, the other man is tilting his body weight back so that nanami falls flat on his back and he has his arms wrapped around his legs to keep him from kicking.
“let me go.”
“you let go first.”
gojo digs his fingernails into nanami’s forearm but his grip is only tightening. he’s hardly able to breathe, let alone talk. “. . f-fuck, alright! sorry, sorry!”
“for what?”
gojo holds his tongue and nanami pulls his arm tighter around his neck by tugging at it with his free hand. “s-shit!” gojo hisses. “damnit, nanami! your girl—“
“—wife,—“
“—alright, your fucking wife! i won’t act like a dick anymore.”
both men release each one another simultaneously. gojo rubs his neck with a slight smirk on his face while nanami goes back to assembling the tent calmly. “what kind of pussy does she own?”
the sharp, thunderous crack of nanami’s knuckles colliding into the bridge of gojo’s nose is loud enough for a flock of birds perched a few trees away to squawk and quickly soar away with heavy wings flapping against their bodies.
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you had thought that camping would be like how it was portrayed in movies and television shows; with everyone in the group circling around the fire singing songs, eating hotdogs, just having a grand time.
you hadn’t expected this.
it’s only day two of the trip and you’ve been bitten at the ankle and collarbone of all places by pesky mosquitos, your hair’s been frizzing up due to the humidity of being so high up in the forest, and you’ve barely been sleeping the past two nights because all you hear are cicadas and the constant, piercing shrill of crickets. sometimes, you think they’re going to slither underneath the protective flaps and layering of the tent and crawl inside of your mouth.
you’re sobbing to nanami come evening of day three, “baby . . baby, look at me! i’m a mess!”
nanami’s clicking his tongue fondly and pulling you by the waist so that you stand between his legs. he’s seated on the full sized cot inside of your tent that you had cutely decorated with plush throw blankets and fluffy pillows layering the flooring. you’ve never missed your california king sized bed more than you did now. “no, you don’t—“
“—these bites are itchy,” you reach up to scratch at the stupid nip focused right near the edge of your left collarbone that seemed to be growing and becoming more irritated by the hour. “and . . and as much as i like showering in the pretty waterfall, i miss bubble baths and eating steak and steamed lobster and caviar with crackers.”
nanami’s looking up at your pout and he tries to fight it, he does, but he can’t help but break out into a smile which he quickly hides by bowing his head and clearing his throat. unfortunately, you still catch it. you smack his shoulder, “can you stop laughing at me?”
“i’m not, i’m not. look at me,” he’s gathering your attention and grabs you by the waist to pull you in again and kiss your tummy softly. “i told you to stop scratching them. you’re only going to make them bleed.”
you watch him reach for the first aid kit he had placed underneath the cot to unfasten and grab a small tube of benadryl which he opens and dots a good amount on his finger. “c’mere.”
you have to take a seat on the thigh of one of his legs so that he’s able to rub the cooling gel over the bite and massage it in. it’s so comforting — the feeling of the sharp sting slowly dwindling and ebbing away into nothing, as well as nanami’s palm, slightly calloused from past years of sorcery work rubbing into your skin. unknowingly, you melt into him and nanami notices. “feels good?” he asks you delicately, watching you pout and nod and lay the side of your face against his shoulder. “i think you just had a long day, sweet girl,” he sighs.
you have a feeling that he’s right . . nanami always is.
“how about you get some rest, hm?” he kisses your temple after he rubs the medication into the bite on your ankle. you don’t bother to fight.
you slip into your pajamas on your own and climb underneath the comforter to lay your head on a pillow. it has been a long day. usually you fight your sleep however tonight, it washes over you without a blink missed. even so, you don’t overlook the soft kiss your fiancé presses against your cheek as you let the dark cloaks of slumber enfold you.
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with you going to sleep so early, the end of your last rem cycle wakes you up at approximately 4.17 am, giving you a good nine hours of sleep you hadn’t even known you needed — furthermore proving that nanami knows best.
the man lays beside you, fast asleep, facing you with a bare arm thrown over your torso, keeping you close against his own chest. in the quiet of the early morning, you’re able to lay and stare at him without shying away from his eyes that always seemed to bore holes into your own.
you’re able to carefully lift your hand and trace invisible lines around the natural, soft arch of his brow, the strong, straight, downward slope of his nose, and across the plush dip of his cupidsbow with your small fingers. he’s so . . . pretty, so . . . strong. he always manages to make you feel protected, even so with just one arm wrapped around you. the joy that sprouted in your heart when he had proposed to you stays unmatched to this day.
him? he wanted you to be his wife? to love, to cherish, to hold past the end of time, to grow old with, to go on crazy, little adventures with, to have kids with? you?
the one who had always been the butt of jokes as a little girl, the one who had countless of men wanting to bed but not wed since the age of eighteen. you didn’t understand. in a way, you still don’t, albeit, you’ve learned to push those thoughts aside and focus on the now. you have him and he has you.
with a smile, you kiss his lips.
you keep kissing him until he starts to kiss you back, and though he’s making little grunts and grumbles at having his sleep disturbed, you ignore them because you just can’t help it. sometimes the happiness just hits you in your chest with a big surge and you have to let it out.
you drag your left leg up his hip to hold and tilt your body weight so that you flip him over onto his back and end up straddling him. nanami’s looking up at you through foggy eyes and you’re staring down at him with a big grin. “it’s . .” he reaches for his phone on the floor, powers it on then squints at the screen. “four in the morning, little one. what’s goin’ on?”
“nothin’,” you sing softly and slide your hands slowly up the rocky plane of his abs to his pectorals. “i just . . i missed you.”
nanami’s confusion is written all over his face. he’s not much of a morning person, you know this. “. . i’m right here.”
he is. all blond haired, brown eyed, six feet of him.
you sigh and lean down to capture his lips with yours once more, cupping the side of his face with one of your palms, feeling the scruff of his five o’clock shadow underneath it. you hope he’s able to feel the love you have for him pouring out of you with each click of your lips separating, and at the way you sigh out sweetly through your nose in content, and when your hips start to rock against his firm morning wood, hidden underneath his sweats. for what you’re unable to describe through words, you make sure he’s able to feel it.
“oh, i get it now,” he says. his voice is hushed.
surrounding your tent is nothing but silence, save for the slight rush of water from the waterfall a couple yards away. it’s deadly quiet.
nanami can see that his baby wants, though. can see it in the way your eyes go half lidded and you pull your thumb up to nibble on the nail when he grabs you by the hips, lifts his thigh up and starts to make you rub your needy, little cunt over it.
“a-awh!”
nanami covers your entire mouth with his palm. your eyes are big. “shh, shshsh,” he whispers. there’s a hint of a smile on his face. “i know it’s hard for you to understand words when you get like this. isn’t that right?”
you nod shakily.
“but you have to be quiet, you hear me?”
you nod once more. nanami trusts you. he drops his hand to have it grab your hips again to work you steadily back and forth, back and forth. his pace is unhurried . . he works you as if there’s a slow tune playing in the background that only he hears and knows. it feels good. the much needed friction of the lace of your panties and the cotton of his sweats rubbing up against your clit already has your eyes going bleary and unfocused as you look down at him.
“keep lookin’ at me — that’s right,” nanami still feels the tinctures of sleep passing through his veins. it has his own eyes growing heavy and his limbs feel like they weigh a ton, however if anything, the drowsiness makes this feel better. he’s able to slowly lower his thigh to instead shift you over his cock and you, already so dumb, simply sit on it, waiting for him to buck you back and forth again. “can you take this off for me?” he tugs at the button down you wore that belonged to him. it’s oversized — hangs off of your body like a duvet, stopping near the beginning of your knees and continuously slipping off of the hill of your shoulder.
your little fingers work hurriedly and your acrylic nails tap and click against each other as you do. with each strip of skin that’s shown, he feels his brain spiraling deeper and deeper into a portion full of nothing but you.
nanami prides himself on being an intelligent man. having gone to one of the top universities in the country, secured a job as a stockbroker, and he’s still on call for the occasional curse job here and there; he’s aware that he’s very well rounded.
but around you . . . sometimes, he’ll admit, he goes a little dumb, too.
“fuck.” it shows when he makes his hand fall down upon your ass with a loud smack that makes you yelp and he’s positive gojo and utahime must’ve heard it. “mmm.”
he groans, lifts up and plants a kiss right over your heart before he’s stamping a path to one of your nipples and collecting it inside of his mouth. you’re whimpering quietly, holding onto his shoulders and now beginning to swirl your hips over his cock to feel more. “daddy.”
nanami rolls the small bud over his tongue and lightly pulls it with his teeth until it’s hard, standing upright, and laminated with his spit. only then, does he turn to the other to give it the same attention.
you’re hiccuping now, bucking a little harder which makes the cot start to creak.
“mm — be still,” nanami’s voice comes out in a low gruff that makes you obey, even if you really, really didn’t want to. his tongue is clever and his teeth are sharp . . they nip and bite all over your tits and neck until bruises the tone of maroon and wine bloom all over the canvas of your skin. nanami can’t help but smack one, just to watch the flesh jiggle before he’s laying back down, pulling you with him, and rolling you over until you both are laying on your sides.
you don’t need him to ask, or rather, you’re too eager to do it yourself, but you push down his sweats just enough for his cock to spring up and out into the open air. it hits his lower tummy with a slap . . long, thick, and drooly; you scoot closer to nanami to grab it and carefully slide it between the small opening of your thighs, watching his eyes close at the feel.
“oh, shit,” he groans and carefully starts to thrust his hips while holding yours to keep you still. the tightness the smooth, soft skin of your thighs provide him with is heavenly. “already doin’ so good for me. just . . k-keep still, let daddy use you for a little while, huh?”
you’re letting out these little pants because with each thrust, your clit’s still getting stimulated by the roof of his cock and it’s just enough for your eyes to roll back into your skull as your mouth falls open. “feels . .” you swallow the glob of saliva pooling on your tongue. “f-feels s’good, daddy.”
hazy, lust filled eyes usually the tone of honey darken into a more muddy gold. they dart over your blissed out face, your bruised tits jiggling and squishing down into the bed with each movement of your arms, and the lewd image of his cock pressing in between the doughy skin of your thick thighs. nanami can cum from the sight alone.
“nanami . .” you’re gasping when he picks up a quicker rhythm, eyes lifting to look up into his.
“so fucking loud.”
his next movements are quick. he pulls his cock from between your thighs, snatches down your panties which don’t even make it past one of your calves; just stays wrapped and tangled around it, then he’s flipping you over and pulling your back into his chest. you’re panting, needy body wriggling and squirming against him. you want him . . . you need him. nanami kento to you is what pollen is to a bee, flame to a moth, gravity is to everything on fucking earth. “please,” you’re sobbing. “please, daddy. p-please.”
“fuck are you whining for, huh?”
his words are mean but his voice is gentle and sweet. he licks his fingers and carefully directs them between your legs, not surprised to feel you absolutely dripping. you’re a mess. two of his fingers are sliding inside your sticky cunt with a loud squelch when they bottom out and he watches your body shiver all over as you push your ass further back to somehow feel more. “so greedy,” he whispers, fucking them in and out to hear those toe-curling, mouth-watering squelches echo inside of his ears. “so, so good for me.”
his praise makes you simultaneously melt against his body yet tighten around his fingers as a new rush of slick gushes out of you.
you can’t describe the joy you feel when he pushes his arm underneath your head to give you some leverage, lifts your leg up with the other and starts to rub his throbbing dick between your puffy lips, giving you both some well needed friction. he’s overwhelming every single one of your senses.
you smell his cologne, feel his body all over yours, taste him underneath the musk of you when he carefully slides his fingers past your lips, hear him coo’ing underneath his breath at how pretty you look.
when he finally pushes inside of you, it’s like breaking down a dam. you’re crying at the ungodly pleasure it brings, no, he brings. your dumb, little mind can’t handle it. “thank you,” you’re babbling and hiccuping. “d-daddy . . daddy—“
“—i know, baby. i know,” nanami tilts his face closer to align his lips atop of yours to swallow each little gasp and whine once he suddenly slams in. “daddy knows.” he doesn’t want to torture you any longer. you’ve been so good for him these past couple days, so good to him. you deserve this. you deserve everything your airy little brain and big, lovable heart desires.
he fucks you slow . . . and deep. carefully pulls his hips back and alternates between driving them back forward leisurely and swirling his hips to angle up into that one, gummy bundle of nerves that has a pool of drool forming underneath your chubby cheek. “that’s my good girl,” he’s whispering, holding your shaky leg up by the back of your knee so that you both can watch his fat and heavy balls smack against your swollen clit with a sticky tap each time he bottoms out. “takin’ it so good . . does it feel good?”
your nods are slow as if they’re trying to catch up with your quivering body. you’ve gone non-vocal and now nanami knows that you feel especially good. it makes him smile atop your lips before he’s pressing one last peck against them and pulling his face back to get a good look at you once his pace and strength quickens.
your mouth drops, eyebrows furrow, and cute nose scrunches up.
“there it is.”
the smacking of skin is loud and distinct, and he knows that it’s evident what you two are doing by now and he knows that you two are a little loud but nanami can’t bring himself to care about that anymore. you just feel so good. you’re tight and you’re wet and having you so close makes him feel like his heart was going to burst out of his chest and swell bigger than a balloon at the same while.
“oh god,” you’re hiccuping and holding onto the ledge of the creaking cot. “oh my . . god, kento.”
the diamond encrusted anklet around your ankle dangles the letters K&N. believe it or not, you had actually been the one to surprise nanami with it eight months ago when you came home from one of your day-long shopping sprees. seeing his initials dangling off a piece of jewelry so dainty and pretty on you had woken something inside of nanami that he hadn’t even known was dormant. each time he sees it, he wants to break you, and coincidentally, you never take it off.
nanami bends your leg almost all the way back until your thigh nears your shoulder just to hear the way the letters jingle as they hit each other. “fuck,” he curses, eyes cycling back into his head. “f-fuck.”
your moans are so pretty — high pitched, breathy, and broken. you have his hips stuttering prior to him starting to fuck you harder. you hadn’t even known he could but he’s proving you wrong at the way you can feel your ass clapping back off of his slim hips with each push of them against it. you’re babbling shaky ‘daddy’s’ and ‘t-too much’ while he just keeps you still.
his voice is trembly and quiet when he says, “a-almost there, sweet thing. you’re almost there.”
you’re going to make a mess — you feel it in the way your pedicured toes curl and how your clit seems to pulsate harder by the second. “hhnnng,” your brain is driven so empty that you can’t even say it.
your cum gushes out of you in fast, long spurts that manages to hit the floor past the edge of the bed. the rest dribbles out in ripples and tides, getting all over nanami’s balls and both of your thighs. he powers you through it; never stops nor decreases his pace, he keeps you right where he wants you, forcing you into overstimulation. you’re squeaking, “ ‘nami — daddy . . w-wait — oh, stars!”
nanami feels his own edge getting closer. he slips himself over you so that he’s on top yet he keeps your one leg up and stretched and soon grabs the other to do the same and folds you into a perfect mating press.
you have a love hate relationship with the position. you love it because you get the perfect view of your fiancés fat, long cock dropping into and pulling out of your sloppy pussy. you get to see his tummy fold as he bends to keep his neck from straining and you especially love how you can see the print of his cock pushing against the skin of your stomach, further showing you just how big he truly is.
but, still, you’re always so easily overwhelmed because with this position he digs in deep. his tender tip bumps against your cervix, rubbing up against it and your g-spot. it’s a weird feeling. sometimes, all you can sob is, “h-hurts so good.” thankfully, he understands.
“doin’ so good for me.” pieces of blond hair fall across his forehead and jump in time against it with his thrusts. the way he’s staring down at you makes you shake. “can you give me another one?” he licks his thumb before pressing it against your clit and dragging tiny, quick circles on it. “give daddy one more, princess. please, baby. just . . one more.”
you’re so weak. you can only nod wordlessly and let your body give into his. you let him fuck you until his name is the only thing that rings in your brain, until your pussy’s aching with the stretch of him battering it sore, until you’re squirting again for the second time . . getting nanami’s lower torso and your own dirty with your fluids.
you make him smile. “there we fuckin’ go.”
his own orgasm creeps up on him slow. it starts from his feet, makes him curl his toes once he feels the thick flames licking at the base of his gut before it surges up to his calves — they tense, along with his thighs. and his jaw’s clenching tighter come the swelling of his balls filling with cum. he’s gripping your thighs until they start to bruise. “fuck . . fuckfuckfuckfuck,” he’s grunting, making his hips slam into your ass at the pace of his words before ultimately, it’s hitting him with a grand slam.
his balls draw tight before the first shot of thick, opaque white is bursting inside of your womb. nanami goes scarily still and throws his head back with the muscles in his neck straining as he fucks his cum as deep as it can go with jerky little tilts of his hips.
you mewl.
you feel warm inside . . and exceptionally full.
he’s pumping you swollen, filling you up with his thick seed until he can no longer fill you anymore. “fuck,” he’s breathing hard, dropping his head and looking down at you.
you’re so fucking cute. you just . . lay there with a stupid, little smile of content on your face and hazy eyes as you massage his thighs with your small fingers as if you weren’t the one, one move away from being folded into a fucking pretzel. nanami chuckles. oddly enough, he’s thinking back to gojo’s question from earlier in the trip . . . what kind of pussy do you own? for him to feel on top of the moon like this, he’s convinced you’re just a figment of his imagination.
however, upon leaning down, kissing your lips, and intertwining his fingers between the spaces of yours, nanami knows that you’re one hundred percent true.
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❤︎ — all rights reserved ! © poutsiez !
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jobean12-blog · 3 months
Text
Back in my Arms
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader
Word Count: 1,173
Summary: Your relationship with Bucky is still new and even though the feelings are deep it's hard to put a label on it but when something goes wrong while he's out on a mission you realize just how much he means to you.
Author's Note: Because who wouldn't miss Bucky and worry about him when he's out saving the world? Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰
Warnings: some worry and angst to start, soft and sweet fluff that turns to sexy times quick, semi-public se-x sorta :D
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The loud ringing of your phone startles you from sleep and you sit up with a jolt. Searching the night table with a sweep of your hand you knock several things off but finally wrap your fingers around your phone.
“Hello,” you grumble sleepily.
“You were asleep.”
Your best friend’s uneasy voice comes through in a whisper and your heart starts to thump harder against your ribcage.
“What’s wrong?” you ask.
“Babe…”
You sit up straighter and throw the covers off. “What?”
“They aren’t giving us any details but I just saw the news…”
“What?” you repeat and press your hand to your chest.
“It looks like the team is back but something went wrong.”
“Did you hear anything about Bucky?”
Your voice is shaky as you frantically search your room for clothes.
“No names but…”
“Oh my god.”
“I’m sure he’s fine babe,” she assures you even as her voice waivers. “But don’t turn on the TV or look at anything on your phone. Did he call?”
You slowly pull the phone away from your ear and check your messages.
Nothing.
You look at your missed calls and voicemail.
Still nothing.
When you hear your friend calling your name you place the phone back to your ear and whisper, “nothing.”
“It’s Bucky…he’s fine.”
“Okay. He has to be fine. I mean…technically I’m not his girlfriend. I can’t just rush over there and check on him, can I?”
“What you meant to say is, ‘you’re not his girlfriend yet,’ and who’s going to stop you?”
You nod as you start to pull on some clothes.
“I have to go. I’ll call you soon.”
With a few more reassuring words your best friend hangs up and you rush into the bathroom to make yourself presentable and then throw on Bucky’s Henley. The one you maybe forgot to return before he left for the mission.
Trying your best not to picture the worst in your head you run out of your apartment building and hail wildly for a cab.
Once inside your feet bounce along the floor and your hands are clasped tightly together in your lap as you silently will the driver to go faster.
When the cab pulls up to the tower you throw money into the front seat with a stilted ‘thank you’ and will yourself to take steady breaths.
Friday greets you and lets you in, directing you to the med bay on the lower floor.
Heart in your throat you creep out of the elevator and look left and right. It’s quiet. Almost too quiet and you step out.
“Doll?”
You whirl around at the sound of Bucky’s voice.
He’s standing there in his dark jeans that are painted on, his soft shirt rolled up to the elbows and his leather jacket thrown over his shoulder. The fluorescent lighting gleams off his metal arm and you hear his fingers tighten into a fist.
“Oh good,” you whisper as his image blurs. “You’re okay.”
You try not to sniffle and keep your hands at your sides.
“I heard there was some trouble, so I…I figured I would come and check on you. And the rest of the team.”
“You came to check on me?”
His raspy voice sends a tremble down your spine.
“Yes.”
He takes a step closer.
“Is that my shirt doll face?”
“Oh…,” you grab the hem and finger the soft material.
“Doll…please. Please come here.”
You back up a step, hitting the elevator door. “I…I was so worried.”
His swallow is audible and you watch the muscles in his neck shift.
“I would have called but my phone is busted and I had to make sure Sam was ok.”
“Is Sam ok?” you ask, suddenly breathless again.
“Thankfully he’s going to be fine. Just needs some time.”
You nod and let out a shaky breath. He approaches slowly, dropping his jacket to the floor and holding his arms out for you.
“Doll…please. Come here. Let me kiss you. It’s all I’ve wanted to do for the past three weeks.”
Your whispered “okay,” can barely be heard above your breathing but the second he’s close enough you launch yourself into his arms.
He wraps you up tightly, your slight shakes making him coo softly in your ear as he smooths his hands along your back and kisses your head.
“Oh doll,” he whispers. “I’m fine. I’m right here.”
Your face presses into his chest and you inhale.
When his hand slides higher and wraps around the back of your neck he brings your eyes to his, their gaze falling to your mouth before he closes the distance, crashing his lips to yours.   
Your broken moan makes him press you impossibly closer, needing to feel all of you.
He growls your name and takes two steps backward, pinning you against the wall. His lips trail down your neck and then back up until they meet your earlobe.
“I can’t fuck you here doll. But if we don’t stop that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“I need you now,” you plead, dragging your fingers through his hair. “Now Bucky. Please. I can’t wait.”
You’ve barely got the words out when he lifts you into his arms and starts to move down the hallway. You pull on his shirt and wrap your legs around his waist, rocking your hips against his.
His hand reaches out to feel for a doorknob and he kicks open the door to an old med room. You slide down his body and onto the floor as he reaches behind him to turn the lock.
Your fingers slip under his shirt and you run your fingernails over his abs as he walks you backward toward the wall.
“Take his off. Please. I need to feel you.”
“That’s my line doll,” he murmurs.
The urgency in your touch is nearly his undoing and between kisses he fumbles with your leggings, groaning when he slips his hand between your legs and feels the soaked fabric of your panties.
With a rip they float to the floor and he spreads your legs apart with his knee. You push his pants down and free him, taking him in your hand and guiding him closer.
He stills, trying to focus on his breathing and garner some semblance of control.
“Rough Bucky. I want it hard and rough.”
There goes any chance he had of holding onto control.
He fills you in one swift stroke and you bite back a scream, moaning into his hand when he covers your mouth.
“I thought about you the whole fucking time we were gone. I never stopped.”
He drops his hand to hear you whine his name in response and he slows the movement of his hips.
“Tell me you missed me,” he groans.
You inhale and curl your fingers into his skin.
“I missed you.”
He grabs your ass and lifts you higher, angling your hips so he can go deeper.
“Say it again,” he demands.
“Missed you Bucky. I missed you so much.”
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@hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @lizette50 @kmc1989 @goldylions @littleseasiren @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife
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oharaslover · 2 months
Text
woven in cartier
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pairing: miguel o’hara x fem reader
contents: one bed (i love that trope sry not sry), miguel teaches reader spanish 🥸, fingering (yes again), nipple play, and oral (f receiving)
author’s note: sugar daddy miguel just has a special place in my heart as a broke college student 😫
word count: 5k
million dollar man (part one)
Miguel had gotten the flights for Cabo late since he figured you two could just start sightseeing in the morning. Despite the fact that you assured him arriving an hour beforehand was good enough to get the whole check-in process done, he still insisted on arriving three hours early to the airport. You held back from teasing him when he complained about the two hours that the two of you had to wait for loading, though you couldn't help the self-satisfied smile that came across your face. "Ay okay, I get it. I'll shorten the time to an hour and a half next time," he told you, poking your cheek after noticing your expression.
"Do you mind putting my suitcase up there?" You asked him, taking advantage of how easy it would be for him to just extend his hands and reach the overhead bin. "Yeah, just go ahead and take a seat," he responded, taking your carry-on and setting it up there with his own. You buckled yourself in the seat, the amount of space in the first class area allowing for you to recline back as much as you wanted.
You would've never been able to picture a couple months ago that the first time you'd be flying would be in first class, or that you'd even be going out to a vacation at all. You couldn't help but think back on all the worry you'd had when you first joined the website, the thought almost amusing now that you're here with Miguel.
"Hey, you okay?" Miguel's voice seemed like the calm in the storm, his voice serving as something that grounded you. "It's just my first time flying, I'll get over it," you assured him, your leg bouncing up and down at the anticipation of when it would take off. miguel reached over, his hand clasping over yours as his thumb ran small circles over your fingers.
"You'll be fine, don't worry. I've got you, mi cielo. Let me know if you need to pop your ears or anything, I got some gum back at the gift shop," he whispered, his voice just soothing enough to calm you down. You nodded, taking a couple of deep breaths as the plane started to move down the runaway.
You tapped on his shoulder after a couple minutes of being up in the air, asking him for the piece of gum now. He took the pack out of his pocket, handing it over to you. You grabbed one of the pieces, unraveling the gum out from the plastic packaging and stuck it in your mouth in hopes that it would ease with the change in altitude.
You handed the pack of gum back to him, his attention on you just to make sure that the sensation wasn't too bad. After a couple minutes of chewing, the pressure in your ears began to build up before eventually releasing in a 'pop.' You were able to relax with much more ease, your head resting against Miguel's until you eventually fell asleep.
"Hey, wake up. You slept for most of the ride," you heard in the distance, your eyes opening up to see that the plane was slowly beginning its descent into the airport. "Thanks for letting me sleep on your shoulder, I hope it wasn't too uncomfortable for you," you told him, rubbing your eyes as you tried to get rid of the tired feeling coursing throughout your body.
"You don't need to thank me, I'd give you everything that your little heart desired and more if you asked," he told you, unbuckling his seatbelt once the light above the two of you turned on. "The time's 11:39 PM and we just landed in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. Please stay seated until the plane has come to an immediate stop," you heard above you, the pilot's voice coming through the small speaker.
"Swear I told them to give us two beds," Miguel spoke up after coming inside the hotel room to only notice one king sized bed in the middle of the bed. The two of you had touched on some lines of intimacy, but it'd never went as far to where the two of you shared a bed together. "I don't mind if you don't mind. Plus I'm guessing that all the rooms are full," you assured him, placing your suitcase in the corner of the room.
"You sure? I don't wanna push you into anything you're not ready for," he told you, setting his suitcase down next to yours. "I don't mind like I said, plus you'll be like my own body heater," you teased, taking your pajamas out of your suitcase and heading into the bathroom to change.
Despite the fact that he'd fingered you inside of a dressing room and almost made you cum, changing in front of him and sharing a bed almost seemed like something too intimate for the situation the two of you were in. But, you couldn't imagine yourself wanting to do these things with anyone else after experiencing what Miguel is like.
You came back to see that Miguel had changed into a pair of grey sweats, his upper body completely exposed to your ogling eyes. You saw a pendant hanging around his neck, a image of the little girl you'd seen around his house inside. His upper body was hairy in a way that didn't make him seem unkempt, but rather made him even more attractive if that was even possible.
You laid down next to him, the feeling of the sheets underneath you cooling down the warmth that lit up inside you just by being in such close contact with Miguel. "You don't have to sleep by the edge, ven pa' acá," he spoke gently, his arms inviting you to sleep closer to him when you turned to face him. (come over here) You scooted over next to him, his hands wrapping closely around you as he kissed your forehead.
"You sure this is okay? I can sleep on that sofa if you want me to," he murmured, his eyes meeting yours as he waited for your response. Your eyes drifted over to the sofa on the corner of the room, the size of it looking like it would barely fit you comfortably. "You'd probably fall and break your hip, old man. I like having you next to me anyways," you told him, your head nestled against his chest.
"Buenos dias. We're going out to a dolphin boat ride later just so you know," Miguel greeted you as you opened your eyes, the smell of pancakes overtaking your nostrils. You sat up on the bed, noticing that Miguel had brought you breakfast and set it down on the nightstand next to you. A combination of eggs and pancakes along with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. You figured you might as well indulge in it while it was still warm before getting in the shower to get ready.
"Thanks," you spoke up, letting out a yawn before getting up from the bed. You sat down on the sofa with your plate of food, savoring the taste of the pancakes with every bite that you took. You'd never get accustomed to the feeling of living luxuriously, no matter if it was something as minuscule as just eating pancakes. Miguel laid down on the bed and scrolled through the tv, wearing a white t-shirt along with the grey sweats from last night. You weren't sure of why, but just the thought that he woke up and immediately got dressed just to get you breakfast caused butterflies to take flight in your stomach.
You heard the bathroom door close behind you but you didn't think too much about it, Miguel's hands finding your waist once you finished getting undressed. "Do you mind if I join you in the shower? It'll be less of a water waste, y'know," he asked you, his hands forming small circles on your waist.
You were already pretty certain you did want him in there, but the way that his touch electrified your skin with every caress turned that into a definite yes. "I mean since you're offering to save the planet, what kind of monster would I be if I said no," you told him with a teasing tone in your voice, opening the curtain to get in. He followed suit behind you, letting out a small chuckle at your words.
"Look at us being quite the environmentalists," he retorted, the cool water hitting both of you when you turned on the faucet. The water pressure was much more different than what you were used to, even that was much better than the shitty shower head you had back at your place. You were surprised to find the soap that you used, turning around to look at Miguel with a raised brow.
"No era nada, I was just in the store and I was aware of the trip. Thought you might've liked to have your soap than the standard bar of soap," he brushed it off, dismissing it as if it weren't a big deal. (it wasn't anything) But for someone who hadn't had that kind of effort out into them, it was a gesture that you appreciated.
"Would spend every last penny in my bank account if it meant i got to see you like this everyday," he mumbled against your neck, his hands coming up to your breasts. You moved your head back to give him more access to your neck, his lips eager to take every inch that you were giving him.
His thumbs pinched your nipples as his lips hovered above your neck, his lips closing around your pulse point as he kissed it. You could feel yourself forming into putty just by the motion of his hands, the way that he was touching you was too enticing to not give in. His mouth moved down to your breasts, engulfing your left one as his hand played with your right one.
His movements were in sync, his tongue rolling around your nipple around the same time that his thumb and pointer pinched around the other one. Your hands went down to his wet hair, the strands at the ends taking their natural wavy form. Your fingers dug into his scalp, but he didn't seem to mind the sting given the moan he released around your nipple.
He pressed a kiss to your breast before exchanging places with his hand, his tongue swirling around your right areola with the same eagerness that he'd shown for the other one. "Don't stop, please," you whined, the pleasure that he was providing your nipples going down to your cunt.
"Get against the wall for me, mamita," he told you, pulling away from your breast with a 'pop.' You did as told, his hands spreading your ass apart once he'd kneeled down. His tongue lapped up the slick that was leaking out of you from the attention he'd given to your nipples, running a stripe up from your hole to your clit. His tongue plunged inside of your vagina, eagerly lapping at the slick dripping down out of you.
His tongue came up to your clit, swirling around the nub before his mouth connected to it. He started to suck on your clit, his tongue occasionally moving around it while his finger went into you. Your slick coated his finger every time he pushed it in and out of you, the angle that he was curling it allowing stimulation to your g-spot.
"Oh fuck," you muttered underneath your breath, your body pressed up against the cold tiles while he kneeled behind you. His tongue felt like the most delicious form of torture, each swipe getting you closer and closer to cloud nine. The feeling of the cold water hitting your body as well as the warmth you felt igniting inside of you as he buried his head into your pussy was enough to make you delirious. You felt yourself getting closer and closer to that orgasm, your hips pushing back against miguel's face to meet his movements. "Miguel, you told me to alert you thirty minutes before the boat ride," you heard Lyla, Miguel's phone assistant chime in.
The moment was ruined the second that Lyla spoke up, Miguel's head removing itself from your cunt as he stood up. "Alright, thank you," he spoke loudly enough for the assistant to recognize, the alarm that he'd set up turning off. "Now I'm starting to feel like you're doing all this on purpose," you grumbled, getting off from the wall as you reluctantly reached for the bottle of body wash. "Maybe I am. It's so fun seeing you get all annoyed when your orgasm gets ripped away," he responded, his eyes crinkling in amusement at the glare you gave him. He lathered some soap onto your back, his large hands rubbing it in effectively.
You got dressed in a rush as the alarm on his phone kept beeping, alerting that the two of you would be dangerously close to missing the ride. You grabbed the Chanel bag that he'd bought beforehand, following Miguel out of the hotel. You could've sworn the ghost of a smile creeped up on his face when he saw you with the purse, the color coordinated with the outfit you'd chosen for today. The two of you managed to arrive at the dock before the boat had a chance to take off, the tour guide giving you both a dirty look as they let you guys in.
The boat took off shortly after the two of you sat down, the tour guide speaking through the megaphone about what you assumed were some of the landmarks in the area. After seeing your puzzled expression, Miguel took it upon himself to be your translator of sorts.
"He's just saying that they offer swimming with dolphins after the tour if you're interested in that," Miguel finished up, the boat slowing down as some dolphins came out into view. "Y'know, they're actually pretty cruel animals so I don't get the whole excitement," Miguel muttered in your ear, his hands wrapped around your waist as he stood behind you while you pointed the dolphins out. "You're the one who paid for this so don't blame me for getting excited."
"¿Quieren una foto juntos?" you heard from behind you, a woman looking at the two of you with a smile. (you guys want a picture?) "Si no es mucho problema," Miguel told the woman, passing her the cellphone with the camera app already set up. (if it's not too much of a problem) Miguel kneeled down a bit to be at your level, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he smiled.
As corny as it was, a dolphin managed to jump up at the same time that the woman clicked on the camera. "Muchas gracias," Miguel thanked the woman after she was done, the woman shrugging it off with a smile. "No era problema. Ustedes me hacen acordar de mi marido y yo." (it wasn't a problem. you guys remind me of my husband and me)
The rest of the boat ride was pretty peaceful, the currents proving to be pretty weak at this time of the day. You went with Miguel down to the bar when the boat turned around to head back to the dock, sitting down on the stool next to him. "Hola, ¿Qué tal? Me puede dar uno de tequila porfa," Miguel ordered, the bartender nodding and getting to work immediately. (hey, how's it going? can i get one of tequila please)
"What do you want to drink?" Miguel asked, turning to look at you as you glanced through the menu board. "I'll just get a virgin cosmo," you responded, looking up from the drink board over to him. You couldn't help but feel a bit of at a disadvantage hearing Miguel speak so fluently with the people around him while you were left to try to piece the words together.
"You mind if I ask why you chose Cabo out of all the vacation spots? Just curious why you chose this one," you inquired, taking a sip from your cocktail before shifting your attention up to him. He stayed quiet, his gaze going from you to the boat windows before he took a swig of his drink.
"I chose Cabo because it was my daughter's favorite place to come to. Before she passed away, I took her to different vacation destinations such as Greece and Italy but she took a liking to this place. Despite it being a tourist spot, I'm guessing it's because it helped her connect to her roots more," he responded after a couple seconds, his gaze coming back over to you after he was finished speaking.
"I know I haven't really spoken to you about her all that much, partly because it just hurts so much to think about her in the past tense. Like as a memory rather than a person. But you're a special part of my life now, and I thought you would've liked to know more about her," he added, his hands playing with the rim of his glass.
You reached over, holding his hands in between your own. "I'd like to know as much as you feel comfortable sharing. Take things at your own pace, there's no time limit for how long you grieve her," You hoped your words were reassuring enough, since you didn't have any experience when it came to dealing with loss at that level.
"I appreciate the fact that you're willing to even listen. I know that you didn't exactly agree to be hearing about this kind of trauma when you signed up for that website," he seemed almost guilty in the way that he spoke, like he regretted sharing the burden with you.
"It may not be what I signed up for, but it doesn't mean that I see you any differently. If anything, I just see you as more resilient. Please don't ever hesitate in talking to me about what you're feeling," you assured him, bringing his hand up to your mouth and pressing a kiss. He seemed to appreciate the gesture, giving you one of his rare smiles before going back to drinking his tequila.
The two of you went back out to the boat deck as the trip was coming to an end, enjoying the feeling of the light breeze against your skin. His hand was resting on your thigh throughout the duration, his touch only adding to the feeling of relaxation that you felt.
The boat stopped by the dock, Miguel allowing for the rest of the guests to get out before he helped you up. He held your hand and guided you back to the hotel, his pace matching yours so as to not rush you. "You wanna out to the hotel jacuzzi? You were really excited to put on that new bathing suit you bought," he asked you, referring to the new Louis Vuitton one you'd bought a couple months back.
"Yeah, we can do that. I might need you to help me pick one out since I bought a new one from Victoria Secret the last time we went," you responded, following him inside the elevator once it opened. "Surprised you managed to get any shopping done during that last trip," he mumbled underneath his breath, pressing the button for the fourth floor.
You felt a bit flustered as he brought that back up, since the two of you just kept brushing over the sexual tension like it wasn't anything too serious. "Surprised you came up with that lie so fast," you tried to tease him back, but your words didn't have the same effect that his did. He let out a small laugh, following you out of the elevator as the two of you headed to them room.
You placed the two sets in front of him, hoping that he’d give you a concrete answer to settle your dilemma. "Well, I think they'd both look good on you," he offered his bit of advice though it wasn't helpful to you while you were struggling. "That doesn't make the decision any easier. just help me pick one out," you practically whined, his expression remaining the same as he leaned against the headboard.
"Think I'll have to see you try them on just to make a good decision," he suggested, the smirk on his face doing nothing to hide the eagerness he felt towards that idea. You picked up the Louis one, changing in the bathroom before coming out to show him. You even went as far as doing a little twirl, receiving a whistle as a form of approval.
After doing the same with the Victoria Secret one, he seemed to be thinking about the decision harder than the last time you'd asked. "Go with the first one, you should save the one you're wearing right now for the beach tomorrow," he finally spoke, seeming to come to the conclusion that you'd made originally. You took off the set you were wearing now and changed into the Louis Vuitton one, coming back to see him changed into a pair of black swim trunks. He grabbed a towel and some flip flops for the both of you, locking the door once the two of you were outside.
You sat in between his legs, the warm jets hitting your skin to ease some of the tension that'd built up during your exams week. You leaned back against him, closing your eyes as you allowed yourself to just bask in his company for the time being. His hand gently traced circles on your thigh, your legs opening to give him as much access as he needed.
"So needy for me, muñequita. I left you all high and dry in the shower earlier hm?" His voice dropped an octave as he whispered into your ear, his hand coming to your inner thigh. You could only nod as his hand pushed the material of your bikini to the side, your cunt exposed for him.
You muffled a moan when Miguel turned one of the jets on, the water pressure hitting your clit at the angle that you were sitting at. "Answer me or I won't touch you, chula. Are you that needy just to have my fingers inside you?" He asked, his fingers just barely hovering above your vagina.
"Yes! Please, I've been thinking it about it since the shower. Could barely focus on those damn dolphins!" You exclaimed, eliciting a chuckle from him in response. He inserted one of his fingers into you, the water pressure proving itself to be a bit difficult. He quickly adjusted to that, establishing a good rhythm as he pushed his finger in and out of you.
His hand pulled away from your cunt abruptly as the door to the jacuzzi room opened up, a couple around your age appearing. They seemed to have a disappointed look on their face upon seeing you and Miguel, like they were planning on doing the same thing you'd done with him prior. "Think we ruined their plans," Miguel murmured in your ear when they walked away, thinking the same thing you had.
"Serves them for ruining our plans," you responded, feeling his erection hit your back the more you leaned into him. Despite the fact that he had a very evident hard on at this point, he did nothing to act upon it. The two of you decided to head back into the hotel room after the water had cooled down, your frustration evident when you stepped into the shower to freshen up.
"Hey, would you mind teaching me Spanish?" You asked him after the two of you finished showering, mostly doing nothing except relaxing in bed. "Any specific reason why you want to learn?" He inquired, looking over at you expectantly. "It's just, I feel like if im here in Mexico, I should at least do the minimum and learn a bit of Spanish instead of expecting everyone to be accommodating," you explained, his expression softening up a bit as he sat next to you.
"Alright, we're gonna go over some basic phrases just so you can get around. Now, I do have to say that it does change from region to region. Like while something means kid in one area, it can mean a completely different thing in another one," he let you know before he started with the mini lesson.
"Okay, so when you're speaking to someone with authority or someone older than you, you want to use 'usted.' But if you're talking to someone casually, like you're doing to me, then you can use 'tú.' It's more about respect than anything else," he started off, waiting for you to finish typing it out in your notes app before he started to speak once more. He went on to talk about how mostly everything was gendered in the language, with a few exceptions. Truth be told, he was proving to be more patient at this tutoring thing than you would've imagined.
"'¿Donde esta el baño?' is how you ask where the bathroom is, 'damas' or 'mujeres' indicates that it's for women," he added, gesturing for you to repeat what he was telling you. You couldn't help but notice the difference between the two of you as you spoke, the accent making all the difference. despite the fact, Miguel still looked proud of you for making the effort. "I know rolling the r's can be kind of difficult but it does kinda change what the topic you're talking about. Like with perra, you have to roll them otherwise it just sounds like you're asking for a fruit," he continued on, your notes app quickly filling up with the notes he was giving you.
"You're doing better than most tourists, don't worry. At least you're taking the initiative in trying to learn," he assured you, rubbing small circles on your back as you laid on your stomach. "You sure?" You were unsure of how well you were doing, since no matter how hard you'd tried in the past hour, you couldn't get the words to sound the same way that he made them sound. Though you knew that he had more experience with the language growing up, a part of you also felt a bit defeated from not being able to master the simple sentences that he'd given you earlier.
"You're not gonna learn it today, it's gonna take time. I'm willing to keep teaching you if that's something you want," he offered, like he wasn't already buried under enough responsibilities as it was at work. "I'll always make time for you, cielito lindo. Tu me importas mas que esos viejos arrugados del trabajo," he told you after you expressed your concern with how busy he was. (you matter more to me than those wrinkly old men from work) The two of you stayed quiet for a couple minutes, his hand gently running circles on your back. "Do you mind standing up for me? I have somewhat of a surprise for you," his request came out of the blue, but you obliged and got up from the bed.
"Stay still and close your eyes for me, muñeca," he told you, your eyes shutting once he was finished speaking. You were relying on your hearing to discern what he was doing, listening to the way that the bed creaked as he got up and the sound of the drawers opening.
You felt his body warmth behind you before he even touched you, your body being able to discern him in any environment you were in. "Alright, don't flinch. Got a snake in my hands," he muttered, his words eliciting a feeling of fear inside of you. You felt a cold metal against your chest, a small shiver running down your spine at the contact. "Alright, you can open your eyes now," he told you, stepping back to gauge for your reaction.
You were half-expecting him to be serious about the snake but when you looked down, you saw a gold necklace on you, his name adorning your neck. "I got the idea after seeing you with the nail. I wanted to get it in mexico since I wasn't too sure about the gold quality back in the states. I hope it's not too much," he told you, your hand coming up to touch the necklace like you wanted to make sure that it was real.
You turned around and faced him, a smile on your face as you hugged him. He still wasn't too good at receiving these sudden embraces, but he was getting better at being able to reciprocate them. His arms came down to your waist, holding you close to his body for a couple seconds. “I love it, thank you."
The words that you wanted to tell him were that you were starting to fall in love with him, but you decided to restrain yourself from admitting it. Swallowing them down felt like swallowing a bunch of dirt, the admission almost threatening to burst out of you with every day that passed by. You knew that you liked to spend time with him, but you never imagined that it would escalate to love.
The last thing that you needed to hear was that every gesture that he'd done was solely out of providing with his responsibility as a sugar daddy, that he only saw this as what it originally was. A transaction. How funny that you'd thought you'd be the one taking advantage of their feelings, without the consideration that you might be the one to catch feelings too.
You knew that Miguel had a tendency to destruct relationships whenever he felt like he was getting too close to a person, that he had enough on his shoulders without having to worry about his actions might inconvenience someone else. So you decided to simply settle for just being his sugar baby, despite how much you longed for his company in even the most mundane tasks.
The truth was a hard pill to swallow, knowing that you couldn't do anything about the love that was developing towards him despite the fact that every bone in your body was telling you to fuck the consequences and just admit it. But, you preferred to be in his life repressing these feelings than running the risk of just not being in his life at all.
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ghostfacd · 3 months
Text
LIVE LAUGH, SCREAM! | TOM BLYTH
pairing. tom blyth x fem!actress!reader
summary. where one comment could lead into an internet feud between tom blyth and yn avocot, resulting in them falling inlove ?!
author’s note. [ THIS TAKES PLACE BEFORE YN AND TOM STARTED DATING ] thank you to the nonnie that said yn gives off scream vibes bc they’re the reason i even made this post in the first place! 🤭
installment of this au | read for context
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ynuser scream bts (you’re welcome!)
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jennaortega did it hurt when you fell from heaven?
➥ jackchampion no but it might’ve when she stabbed u in the movie
➥ ynuser JACK 😭😭
user1 jenna flirting, jack teasing, I LOVE THIS CAST YOUR HONOR
user2 okay but literally your performance was just chefs kiss 😭 PLEASE tell me you’re starting in other movies as well bae
➥ ynuser oh thank you!! im so honored you enjoyed it ❤️ I will get back to you on your question!! 👀
➥ user3 OMGG YN IN ANOTHER FILM WOULD BE KILLER
➥ user4 well actually 🤓☝️ she was one of the ghostface in the film which means she actually was a killer
user5 @/user4 bye
tomblyth amazing film
➥ ynuser thanks
➥ user6 THANKS?? THANKS?! girl that’s tom blyth
➥ ynuser @/user6 who?
user7 no way this girl just asked who tom blyth is
➥ user8 well can u blame her tho?? he’s in like what, billy the kid or whatever? it’s not that known..
➥ user9 nah girl stars in one film and thinks she’s all that 😭
rachelzegler YOU DID SO GOOD GIRL 💕
➥ ynuser rachel my love 😭😭❤️
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tomblyth who am I? well now you know
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user10 oh he’s so fine
user11 LMFAOO is this a jab at yn not knowing who you are
user12 show that girl 🤭🤭 she thinks she’s all that after getting one acting gig
➥ user13 y’all are so obsessed with her hello..
ynuser sure. now i know
➥ user14 oh im having so much fun watching all this go down
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ynuser more bts because i love scream 6 and so should you!
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tomblyth yeah the movie’s cool and all but how abt i treat you out for dinner?
➥ user15 HELLO???
user16 enemies to lovers era ?
user17 pls lord get these two together
jackchampion say yes to the dinner invite and bring me back steak
➥ ynuser 🤨🤨
➥ jackchampion and a vanilla soda too please
user18 i love jack n yn’s friendship
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ynuser and tomblyth both posted a story!
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ynuser eating sushi and then putting on some comfy pjs is a great way to spend a day
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user19 the way tom also posted sushi pics very similar to what she’s eating…
➥ user20 WHY IS NOBODY MENTIONING THE MATCHING HOTDOG STORY POSTS AS WELL 😭😭😭
user21 pjs TOGETHER?! im afraid we’ve lost her
user22 everybody knows.. everybody knows
jackchampion splendid way to spend the day
➥ user23 what if it’s jack?? tom and yn don’t even fw each other LOL
➥ user24 true. he did ask her for dinner tho
➥ user25 who wouldn’t? she’s yn.
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Eclaté_Mode On this new episode of BTS With Your Favorites, Tom Blyth dishes on his skincare routine, how he keeps himself productive during breaks, and his internet rivalry with actress, Y/N Avocot. Full video linked in bio
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user26 THE WAY HE COMPLIMENTS YN this is definitely enemies to lovers
user27 “me and yn have exciting need to share soon” excuse me
user28 so they inlove or what
user29 yn fell inlove with a brit man it’s over for US
user30 WAIT WHAT DOES HE MEANNNN
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tomblyth well surprise. enemies to lovers much?
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ynuser nice pic send me it
user31 WAITT RACHEL HIM AND YN IN A FILM?? did not expect this..
user32 hold awn..
user33 is this confirmation they’re dating
➥ ynuser we aren’t dating.
➥ rachelzegler yet.
➥ user34 RACHEL???
rachelzegler you’re welcome for this crossover, i encouraged both of them to audition for the role
➥ user35 WE LOVE RACHEL ZEGLER
jennaortega take care of my gf 😽
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daycourtofficial · 6 days
Text
Rejection
Summary: After some drinks, Azriel finds out you’ve been keeping a secret from him.
Author’s note: hehe what kinda crack was I given I hope yall feel fed these days
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“Nothing stings quite like rejection,” you say, taking another sip from your class. A loud laugh fills the air.
“There’s no way you’ve ever been rejected,” Cassian tells you, popping open another bottle of wine.
You roll your eyes, “I’ve been rejected before, Cass.”
Cassian doesn’t look at you as he pries the cork out of the bottle, foregoing a glass and drinking straight from the bottle before he says, “by who? Someone blind who can’t smell?”
You’re taken aback, “by someone who can’t smell?”
He shrugs, “you smell really nice.”
You smile a little, “thank you?”
“Who was it?” Feyre asks from the other side of Cassian, moving her legs beneath her.
You, Cassian, Feyre, Nesta, and Azriel were lounging around the sitting room, each drinking from a bottle of wine, reminiscing on past love lives.
Azriel looks at you as your cheeks heat, telling her, “it’s too embarassing, you’ll laugh.”
“Were they out of your league?” Nesta asks, intrigued by the new topic.
You gulp down your wine, making eye contact with her steely gaze, “uh, yes, definitely.”
Cassian’s laugh is boisterous as he claps your back, “well tell us. Who could be out of your league?”
Feyre laughs, “yeah I think we need to know so we can go see this perfect specimen.”
Your face is even redder, at both the compliment and knowing who it was. You sigh, knowing they’ll never give up until they find out who it was.
“Okay fine,” you say, breathing in deeply. “A few decades ago, after a high lord’s meeting, I asked someone out, they agreed, and then they didn’t show up.”
“Ouuuuuuch,” Cassian drawls, “what an idiot. That hurts worse than being told no.”
“Yeah,” you respond, “it was embarrassing, but I don’t harbor any bad feelings about them.”
You turn to see Feyre thinking about something. “If it was at a high lords meeting, surely we know them then?” Feyre asks.
Your heart begins beating out of your chest, “oh, you definitely know him.”
“It’s a him! It’s a him!” Cassian shouts as you finish off your wine, opening a new bottle.
Rhys strolls into the room at all the commotion, looking as his family devours his wine collection.
“What’s the point in buying all this wine if you all drink it without me?” He strolls towards Feyre, kissing her on the head before sitting next to her.
“She was just about to tell us about when she got stood up for a date after a high lord’s meeting.”
“Ah,” Rhys says, “when you asked out Azriel.”
Everyone stills, and your eyes are glued on the drink in your hand. The blood is rushing through your ears, but you make out a soft what amongst the noise.
Cassian throws his head back laughing, “you asked out Az? And he stood you up?”
His laugh is booming through the room, but not for the reason you think. You fold into yourself a bit, shoulders sagging as Cassian says, “that’s cold, brother.”
Azriel does not address his brother’s taunts, eyes focused on you.
“You never asked me out.”
“Yes I did. I asked you out to this bar, you said yes, and I waited there for a bit before giving up.”
“No you didn’t,” he says, pouring through his memories of all the meetings he’s attended over the years.
“Az, it’s fine. There are no hard feelings. You changed your mind or didn’t want to hurt my feelings by saying no.”
“No it’s not fine. I would have been there.”
You finally, finally look up at him.
Az turns his attention from you to Rhys, “how did you know she asked me out but I didn’t? What high lord meeting even was this?”
Rhys waves his hand, “it was before Amarantha.”
Feyre tenses at the name, but Rhys goes on.
“During a break I heard her ask you out, but Beron began speaking to me about something, pulling my attention away. I assumed you two went out and there just wasn’t anything there.”
“Which meeting was this?” Azriel asks.
Rhys blows out a breath, “Tarquin’s father wanted to talk about Amarantha and the threat she posed. We were in Dawn for close to a week with discussions that led nowhere.”
You wanted the ground to open a riff and swallow you whole. You even sent Feyre some thoughts.
I’ll give you anything if you kill me right here.
Her melodic laugh fills your mind.
Az adores you, though. I’m shocked he didn’t show up.
She pauses, then her voice rings again.
Also you’re hot as hell, who would say no?
You give her an exasperated look and are about to resign yourself to leave and never, ever interact with any of your friends again when Azriel’s voice picks up.
“I left that meeting early,” Az says, remembering, “one of my spies needed out, I had to go extract them discreetly.”
He looks at you, “it took a few days because they got seriously injured and I wanted to ensure they were okay before coming back. By the time I was done, discussions were over and we were back home in Velaris.”
His face falls a bit, “I-I completely forgot. I am.. so sorry.”
“I appreciate the apology but it was ages ago, I figured you got caught up with something or said yes because you didn’t want to hurt my feelings.”
“I said yes because I wanted to go.”
The two of you look at each other, forgetting everyone else was there.
He stands, walking towards you, extending a hand.
“I’m quite late, but would you like to accompany me this evening?”
You put your hand in his as shadows envelop the both of you.
The last the inner circle hears from the two of you is a soft yes on the wind.
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lorarri · 1 month
Text
꒰꒰ ‧₊˚𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 ─ 𝐊𝐑𝟕 ˚₊· ꒱꒱
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─ summary . . . ❨ people seem to be under the impression that you and your good friend sebastian are dating but little do they know kimi is way more your type ❩ ─ pairing . . . ❨ rockstar! bassist! kimi räikkönen x fem! f1 driver! reader ❩ ─ genre . . . ❨ social media file ❩  ─ author note . . . ❨ god young kimi was so cunty rockstar coded it's actually insane anyway enjoy! ❩
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❨ series masterlist | main masterlist | sol’s masterlist ❩
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Y/NNIE
hey seb quick question
is kimi single?
SEBBY
yes he is
why do you ask
Y/NNIE
cuz he gives big dick enegery
and he is high key super hot
SEBBY
ew that's one of my best friends
Y/NNIE
sorry
but you know I cannot lie when it comes to fine men
also have you seen peoples twitter theories that we are together
SEBBY
yeah hannah and I were laughing at them earlier
some people are so dumb
Y/NNIE
ikr?
anyway kimi's number?
SEBBY
I better be best man when you two get married
xxx-xxx-xxx
Y/NNIE
I wouldn't have anybody else sebby
yourinstagram
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liked by sebastianvettle kimimatiasraikkonen 78,384,982 others
yourinstagram look who I ran into kimimatiasraikkonen
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user wingman kimi>>>
user he def putting. agood word in for seb
user seb sent his man so Y/N would hear about how great he is
user mother lookin sexy af rn
user getting ready for the dating annoucment
user seb def got notifications on for Y/N's posts lol
user so we can alllll see seb in the likes right????
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SEB
soooo kimi
what's the deal with you and Y/N
KIMI
friends
dw dude I know you into her
so no need to get jealous
SEB
jealous???
dude I was trying to set you up
why do you think I gave her your number
KIMI
ummm cuz you wanted me to put in a good word for you
SEB
dude I'm married
her name is hannah
LEW
let me guess vegas wedding
SEB
yup
KIMI
okay but what if she is not into me
SEB
dude she's had the hots for you since say one what are you talking about
LEW
yeah dude even a blind man
she's super into you mate
KIMI
oh damn
JEN JEN
okay hate to break up this revelation
but kimi the love song that you wrote about Y/N
is all over twitter
KIMI
oh shit
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BEAUTIFUL TRAIN WRECK
um kimi please tell me why I had to find out through twitter
that you are parental in love with me
is this true or????
KIMZILLA
yeah
BEAUTIFUL TRAIN WRECK
well I like you too
and fucking god you said yes or this would be so fucking awkward rn
KIMZILLA
right
wanna come over
also seb's asking when the wedding is
I was thinking summer
BEAUTIFUL TRAIN WRECK
we can talk plans after we fucked all night long
KIMZILLA
sounds like a plan rakkaani
sounds like a plan my love
kimimatiasraikkonen
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liked by yourinstagram sebastianvettle5 87,389,477 others
kimimatiasraikkonen every song I write from now on will only ever be about you
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user omfg this is so hot
yourinstagram my rockstar <3
user isn't that kimi's cross??????
sebastianvettle5 took you long enough dude
user wtf is going on in the house of commons
lewishamilton okay but what colour suit should I get for the wedding that's the real question
user this is so fucking iconic
jensonbutton there are childen on this app kimi....
user and you clown's were really saying Y/N and Seb huh
user live laugh love kimi and Y/N rn
user this ate in every language known to man
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beskarandblasters · 4 months
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Bluffing Season
Enemies to Lovers!Frankie Morales x F!Reader
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Main Masterlist | Frankie Morales Masterlist
Author’s note: Ya know like “cuffing season” lmao!! Thank you to @pascalispretty, @fhatbhabie, and @hyzer34 for beta reading! 🤍
Summary: Frankie Morales is your next door neighbor of the worst kind. To put it simply, you two can’t stand each other. But when his girlfriend breaks up with him right before the holidays he asks you to be his fake date for Christmas, not wanting to go home to his family single yet again. You reluctantly say yes and as you spend time with him you realize he’s not as terrible as you once thought.
Word count: 14.6k (what the fuck lol)
Warnings: reader is able-bodied, reader is a baker, two years post Triple Frontier, slow burn, enemies to lovers, fake dating, jealousy, made up lore for Frankie/his family tree, reader lowkey got mommy issues (just a shitty family in general), drinking, mentions of drugs, food/eating, Frankie describing his trauma, some Spanish used, oral sex (F receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, pet names (cariño), sort of ambiguous time skips, Frankie is either a Libra or a Scorpio!!, no use of y/n
Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs
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Late October
Beep Beep Beep
Ugh. Another shit start to your day with shit sleep as per usual. Running your own bakery means a lot of early mornings. Normally you don’t mind waking up early since you love what you do. You bought a new house on Magnolia Drive eight months ago which made your commute to the bakery much shorter. However… Your realtor neglected to tell you that it came with the worst neighbor on the face of the Earth. His name is Frankie and you can’t stand him. When you first moved in, he seemed normal, an ex-military, single guy living on his own. The deception didn’t last long, though. Because after about two weeks of living next to him, the shitstorm commenced. And now you wished you picked literally any other house in this city. His friends are at his house all the time, one of them always blocking your driveway with their pickup truck. They stay until at least four in the morning, blasting music when Frankie knows you have to work early the next day. He’s probably the worst neighbor in the entire state of Florida. 
You’re getting in your car to start your morning commute for work when Frankie is grabbing the morning paper from his mailbox. You physically recoil when you see him. There’s a harsh line of demarcation separating your lawn from his because he cuts his grass once in a blue moon. It’s such an eyesore.  
“Have you thought about, I don’t know, cutting your lawn?” you ask before shutting your car door.
He shoots you the middle finger and mouths something you can’t hear. You roll down the window for him to take a few steps closer to your car and repeat, “Stop feeding the fucking stray cats.”
Okay, maybe you aren’t the perfect neighbor either. But doesn’t he deserve it anyway?
“Bite me,” you respond, rolling your eyes and backing out of your driveway.
He rolls his eyes, too, and storms off. You giggle to yourself, feeling proud that you got a rise out of him. If he’s going to piss you off the least you could do is return the favor. 
-
Work is fine, a little busier than normal. But the afternoon exhaustion is hitting. You can’t wait to go home, take a shower, and maybe get some sleep before Frankie’s friends come over. It’s Friday and they’ll be even more unruly than they normally are during the week. Don’t they have lives? Or like… a fucking family to go home to?? Probably not if they’re hanging out with the likes of him. 
But alas, it’s finally time to go home. You close up the bakery and get in your car to drive back, excited to just melt into the couch for a few hours. As you turn onto your street you see that Frankie’s driveway is empty, for now, that is. He’s not outside, either. So that means you get to just slip inside your house without a hostile interaction for once. Score!
You pull into your driveway, get out of your car, and start walking towards your front door when a disgruntled voice stops you dead in your tracks. 
“Hey!”
Not again. 
“What do you want now?” you say, whipping around and using the bitchiest voice you can muster. 
“Cut your fucking tree,” Frankie says, holding up a lemon. 
…Is he fucking for real? 
You have a lemon tree at the edge of your backyard and a few branches hang over the fence and into Frankie’s yard. You never thought to trim it because you assumed you were doing something nice for him, letting him have some of the lemons. But no, apparently he wants to complain about free fruit. 
“You’re complaining about… free fruit?”
He stutters a bit, tripping on his words as if he just realized how stupid he sounds.
“I guess not.”
“That’s what I thought,” you say, turning and heading into your house.
The fucking nerve of that man. 
The rest of the night is pretty uneventful aside from a bitter man complaining about free fruit. You hear Frankie’s friends next door and grumble to yourself. How do they have the energy to party every single day of the week? You turn in early and do your best to ignore how loud they are, getting ready for another busy day at the bakery. Tomorrow’s Saturday, the busiest day of the week, and you need to be well rested. Well rested as you can be with all the noise from next door. 
-
The morning’s been typical so far; wake up feeling exhausted, argue with Frankie in the driveway, drive to work, open the bakery; and the usual stuff. It isn’t until halfway through your business hours that something… interesting happens. A woman enters the shop and browses the cakes in your display case. 
“I’d like to get some writing on a cake.”
“Sure! Which one would you like?”
“That one,” she says, pointing to one on the bottom, a vanilla cake with vanilla buttercream and strawberries in the middle. 
“Okay,” you say, grabbing it out of the case and taking it to your decorating table, “What would you like it to say?”
“Well, it’s for my boyfriend, Frankie so I’d like it to say “Happy birthday, Franklin” with a fish. I guess his nickname was catfish in the military.”
You know for a fact this is for Frankie because of the nickname. You’ve heard his friends screaming it next door when they’re drunk. But you also know for a fact his name is not Franklin, it’s Francisco. You didn’t have to ask him or anything, Amazon has delivered some of his packages to your house in the past by mistake. So this is fucking hilarious. 
“Any specific color for the writing?” you ask, stifling a chuckle. 
“Black is fine.”
You get to work on the writing and have mixed feelings. It’s kinda shitty that his own girlfriend doesn’t know his full name. And it’s also shitty that he’s going to have a birthday cake at his party with the wrong name on it. You should feel bad but… Nah, this guy sucks. 
You glance over at his girlfriend before moving on to the fish. Although she clearly doesn’t know her boyfriend that well at all, you can’t deny that she’s beautiful. And all of a sudden you’re feeling… jealous? Wait, why are you getting jealous of her? For a guy you can’t even stand?
You gotta finish decorating this cake and get her out of here so you can try to deal with your conflicting feelings. You package the cake back up and walk it to the counter to cash her out. 
“Okay, your total is fifty-three forty-nine. Cash or card?”
“Card,” she says, tapping it on the counter. 
The receipt prints out of the machine for her to sign but before you hand it to her you look at the name printed on the bottom; Heather Ryan. 
“Okay, just need your signature and then you’re all set!” 
She signs her name on the receipt and slides it back to you. 
“It looks great! Thank you so much!” she says before grabbing the cake and leaving. 
Now that she’s gone you can process your weird and sudden emotions. You didn’t know he had a girlfriend and to be honest, it kind of surprises you that he has one in the first place considering his… lifestyle. But why are you jealous? He’s the worst. 
Although… When you first moved in, you did think he was kinda cute before he showed his true colors. He got you with his curly brown hair peeking out underneath his hat but the attraction didn’t last long. Once his antic began, the attraction dissipated. 
…Or so you thought.
Stop it, you tell yourself. He has made your life hell for the better part of a year. 
You bury down your weird and confusing feelings for now, trying to continue the rest of the day as normal. The rest of the day is pretty uneventful and soon enough five o’clock rolls around. Just as you’re locking up the bakery, you get a text from your friend, Ally. 
Hey, bestieee!! Drinks tonight?
You know what, why not?
You respond with: 
Oooh, what time and where?
You get in your car and drive home, excited to have something to look forward to tonight. And at least you’ll be gone for some of Frankie’s antics. As you pull into your driveway you notice his friends aren’t there yet, all the better for you. You  check your phone and Ally says;
7:30. Let’s go to the Harp tonight!! I’ll meet you there. 
She’s referring to a bar downtown but to you, it honestly doesn’t matter where you go. You need to blow off some steam and work through your weird feelings with your friend, get her opinion on this random burst of jealousy you’re feeling. 
You take a shower, change into a skirt and fitted tee, and do your makeup before getting ready to leave. Just to find one of Frankie’s friends blocking your driveway, of course. Why wouldn’t they do this shit on the one night you have plans?
Nah, this isn’t going to fly. You gotta say something. You march right over to his door and judging by the noise coming from inside, his birthday party is tonight. Alright, maybe you won’t be a huge bitch about this right now. Especially when you know how his birthday cake turned out…
You knock and someone other than Frankie answers the door. You recognize him as one of Frankie’s friends but you can put a name to his face. 
“Oh, shit! Neighbor girl is here!” he says, calling out to Frankie over his shoulder. 
Before you can ask him about the truck blocking your driveway he says, “I’m Benny. Come on in!”
Yeah, he’s clearly drunk. Whatever this will be quick. You reluctantly step inside and look around. You’ve never actually been inside Frankie’s house before. It’s honestly nicer than you expected considering his lifestyle and the way he keeps his lawn. You’re standing in his living room with Frankie and three other men. You’re feeling anxious all of a sudden but you don’t show it. Who knows what Frankie said about you to these guys? 
“Look who it is, Fish!” Benny says, putting a hand on your shoulder. 
“Guys, this is my neighbor,” Frankie says. He looks a little… nervous? You’ve never seen him like this before. 
“I’m Santiago,” a man with dark hair says, shaking your hand. 
“Nice to meet you,” you say, forcing a fake smile. 
“And this is Will,” Santiago continues, gesturing to a man with short blond hair. 
“You got anyone else coming, Fish?” Santiago asks, turning towards Frankie, “What about Heather?”
“Uh, she’s not coming.”
“Shit, man. Is everything alright?”
“We’re fine. But actually, can you help me with something in the kitchen?” Frankie asks, making eye contact with you. He looks bothered, like there’s something he wants to say but isn’t letting it come out. 
“Sure,” you reply, following him to the kitchen where he opens the refrigerator. The cake is sitting on the shelf in its box and your stomach drops. Poor guy. 
He grabs the cake from the refrigerator and sets it on the kitchen counter. 
“Can you help fix this? She put the wrong name,” he says, opening the lid to reveal the cake you decorated earlier today.
“I can try. Can you get me a butter knife?”
He opens his silverware drawer and hands you a knife. 
“Well, I think I can smear out the name and make a swirly pattern around the happy birthday?”
“Whatever you have to do,” he says softly. 
You take the knife and swipe away the “Franklin”, making a tie-dye design on the cake but stopping at the fish.
“You want me to leave the fish?”
“Nah, scrap it. Catfish is pretty much the only thing she knew about me anyway,” he says dejectedly.
“Right…” you respond awkwardly, swiping away your hard work from earlier. You can only assume he doesn’t know this birthday cake is from your bakery. But you fix the cake the best you can so it just says “Happy Birthday” with a swirly design. 
“That better?” 
“Yes. Thank you,” he says, letting out a sigh, “I just didn’t want them to see it.”
“I get that-”
“Let’s get this fucking party started!” Benny says, entering the kitchen and slamming a six-pack of beer on the counter. 
“Oh, actually I have to go-” you start. 
“What?? No way, you gotta stay,” Benny says, putting an arm around your shoulders. 
You could stay and just cancel your plans with Ally. But this is Frankie’s birthday party and you weren’t exactly invited. And you’re both aware of how much you painfully dislike each other. You look at Frankie, searching his eyes for an indication of how he’s feeling. 
“You’re more than welcome to join us,” he says softly. 
“Are you sure? I don’t wanna impose.”
“Nooo, stay,” Benny says, looking at you with a wide grin on his face. 
“By all means,” Frankie says. 
“Fuck yeah,” Benny says, “Can I get you a drink? We have all sorts of shit.”
“Hard cider?”
“A woman with taste. I like it,” he says, removing the arm around your shoulders and opening the refrigerator. 
You pull out your phone to text Ally. It has to be something inconspicuous. She knows you hate Frankie with a passion so you can’t exactly say you’re partying with him and his friends right now. Maybe just lie and say you’re sick? 
You do exactly that, saying your stomach is bothering you. Just as you press send, Benny’s hanging you your hard cider. And now it’s just the three of you in Frankie’s kitchen, standing around awkwardly. 
“I have some of the MMA guys coming, too. That alright?” Benny says. 
“Fine with me. The more the merrier,” Frankie smiles. But the smile seems forced. 
Just Frankie says that there’s a knock on the door and it’s the guys Benny was referring to. A handful of men pile into Frankie’s living room with Will and Santiago, and now you’re the only girl here. And also sort of regretting your decision to cancel on Ally. 
“Let me introduce to you some of my friends!” Benny says cheerfully, grabbing your hand and leading you back to the living room. You exchange hello’s with Benny’s friends, a group of four guys whose names you can’t really be bothered to remember. 
Soon enough the folding table is pulled out and all of the guys are playing beer pong. You decide to just stand and watch, sipping your drink and keeping to yourself… except for Benny, who has been by your side all night. At first, it was kind of annoying but now that you’re talking to him he’s actually pretty cute. Or it’s just the alcohol talking. 
“Can I get you another drink?” he asks when yours is empty. 
“Sure,” you smile, handing the empty bottle to him. 
Now that you’re alone for a moment your eyes are scanning the room again, and they lock eyes with Frankie, who’s playing beer pong but not really paying attention. Benny comes back with your drink, handing it to you and leaning against the wall with his arm raised over his head. 
“Frankie never mentioned just how gorgeous you are.”
“Oh! Thank you,” you respond, caught you off guard. You’re feeling awkward, not knowing what to say back so your eyes are searching the room again. And once again, they lock with Frankie’s, whose eyes are… angry? But why is he angry? Is he… jealous? Nah, no way. He has a girlfriend. But she’s also proved herself to be shitty. And besides that, you two hate each other. Unless… you really don’t?
You decide to do a little experiment. Benny is super hot, but maybe you could turn up the flirting a bit and see just how jealous Frankie gets. 
And that’s exactly what you do. You’re laughing at all Benny’s jokes, falling for every cheesy pickup line, doing the thing where you look from his eyes, down to his lips, and back up to his eyes, literally anything to flirt. And even though it’s for an experiment, you’re having fun and you could actually see yourself maybe liking Benny.
You look over at Frankie, and to your surprise (and also delight?), he’s looking directly at you. His eyes are almost pleading with you. But at the end of the day, you don’t owe him anything. And he’s taken. So why stop all the fun?
“I just can’t believe this is the first time we’re meeting,” Benny says, shaking his head.
“I didn’t know Frankie had such nice friends!” you respond. 
Benny leans a little closer to you, his eyes fixed on your lips. Oh shit, is he really gonna kiss you? Right here? Right now? In front of everyone? 
But also… why not? 
You lean forward more too, inching closer and closing the gap between you two. Just as your lips are about to meet, Santiago shouts, “Jesus, Fish! What are you doing?!” 
You pull away from each other and look at what’s going on. It seems that Frankie royally screwed up the round of beer pong because he and Santiago just lost. 
“Alright, alright. Don’t yell at the birthday boy,” Will laughs. 
Santiago sighs and says, “Best two out of three?”
The other men shrug but Frankie excuses himself, saying, “I need another drink.”
You can’t help but feel like that was your fault. Shit, maybe Frankie does have some sort of crush on you? Because why else would he get jealous over his friend flirting with you? Wouldn’t he want that to happen, as a means of burying the hatchet between you two?
“I have to use the bathroom,” you say to Benny. 
“Down the hall on your right,” he says.
You set your drink down on the coffee table and walk through the kitchen, but before you head to the bathroom you take a look at Frankie, who’s sipping a beer and looking at his birthday cake. A look of confusion and uncertainty on his face. You just can’t help but feel bad for him in some sort of weird way. But there’s also a nagging feeling deep down inside you that’s telling you that you shouldn’t feel bad for him. This guy has been nothing but a complete asshole to you. Why do you care so much about his feelings? 
You head down to the bathroom and pull out your phone. There’s a text from Ally and thankfully she wasn’t upset about the plans getting canceled. But you look at the time and decide, you should just go home. Besides, it’s getting a little boring watching the men play beer pong and you’re running out of things to talk about with Benny. 
You head back into the living room and say to Benny, “I think I’m gonna head home.”
“Aw, okay. I’ll catch you later. But maybe you can come to one of my matches sometime?”
“I’d like that,” you smile. 
You poke your head into the kitchen and tell Frankie you’re leaving.
“Happy birthday by the way,” you say. 
He nods and waves his hand a little before you bid your goodbyes to everyone else and walk next door. And the only thought on your mind is… What the hell just happened?
You flop down on your couch and the room feels like it’s spinning, your mind swirling with all sorts of thoughts and emotions. You’re feeling a weird mix of confusion, pity, and also… apathy? You run through the basics: 
1. Frankie’s girlfriend sucks. 
2. It’s shitty that his birthday cake was messed up. 
3. You really don’t mind Benny at all and can see yourself liking him. 
4. At the end of the day, Frankie is still an asshole. 
And that trumps everything else, no matter how bad you feel for him. 
-
Mid-December 
Several weeks have gone by and you haven’t seen much of Frankie, or his friends for that matter. Lately, it feels like you've been living at the bakery twenty-four-seven. Especially since Thanksgiving just ended. But that also means you’re heading into another busy season; Christmas time. 
The holidays are your least favorite time of year. But running your own bakery means that you get to keep busy during the holidays. It’s always the perfect excuse for when your mother calls and asks why you’re not coming home for Thanksgiving or Christmas. You can usually get out of one and not the other. This year you skipped Thanksgiving so you’ll be due home for Christmas… unless you can think of another excuse to stay home again. But then you’ll get another phone call from your father claiming that “you’re breaking your mother’s heart” or whatever. 
From what you can tell, Frankie stayed home for Thanksgiving, too. Though you don’t know if his family is around here or not. His friends didn’t come over for Thanksgiving so you assume they were with their own families respectively. And you’re not really sure what happened with his girlfriend. So the two of you were just… alone that day. For some reason, the thought makes you kind of… sad? But like you told yourself weeks ago, don’t feel bad for Frankie, like at all. 
But now that you’re thinking of Frankie… he’s been his typical self, but maybe scaled back a bit? His lawn hasn’t been cut in God knows how long and his friends still come over to party here and there. But it’s definitely been a lot less than usual. Maybe the holidays are tough for him, too. 
Just as you’re leaving to go open the bakery the week before Christmas, you get a phone call from your mom. You sigh and roll your eyes because you already know what this is about. And you’ve been dreading this phone call since Thanksgiving. 
“Yes, mom?” you say as you answer the phone. 
“Is that any way to answer a phone call from your mother?” she says. God, you can already feel the judgment and disappointment seeping from her voice, even over the phone. 
“Ah, sorry Mom. How are you?”
“I’m just calling to see if we can expect you home for Christmas this year.”
“Uhh-”
“You know, since you broke your mother’s heart and didn’t come home for Thanksgiving.”
“I think.”
“You think?”
“Yeah, I’ve just been really busy, uh, with the bakery and all.”
“That’s always the excuse. I’m getting sick of your shit. I need a straight answer as to whether or not you’ll be home for Christmas now.”
As you open your mouth to respond, probably with some poorly thought-out rebuttal since you’re so heated, you spot Frankie walking across his lawn toward you. Perfect escape from this phone call maybe?
“Shit sorry Mom. Gotta go. My neighbor’s coming up to me.”
As you pull the phone away from your ear and hang up, you hear your mom’s angry protests. But you’re too focused on Frankie to care. Because what could he want with you now? You haven’t done anything to piss him off lately. That you can remember anyway… 
“Hey,” he says with a shaky breath.
“Hi,” you say awkwardly.
“I need to ask you for a favor.”
“Okay…”
“Feel free to say no because it’s weird but I don’t know what else to do. And I’m sorry to drop this on you but-”
“Spit it out.”
“Will you come home with me for Christmas as my date? It would be fake, of course.”
Oh. You definitely weren’t expecting that to be the favor he needed. And for some reason him adding in “it would be fake, of course” is so funny. It’s so funny that you actually burst out into a fit of laughter. 
“What’s so funny?”
“You’re not being serious.”
“I am.”
“But… why?”
“My girlfriend broke up with me right before Thanksgiving.”
“Let me get this straight. She put the wrong name on your birthday cake and you let her break up with you first?”
“It’s not funny.”
“I know it’s not.”
“So, you’ll help me?”
“Why can’t you just go home alone?”
“Because I can’t go home for another holiday alone. I already skipped Thanksgiving. My family’s always pestering me about settling down and I can’t take it anymore.”
“What’s in it for me?” you sigh. 
“Uh, you don’t have to go home to your shitty family? I mean I’m just assuming from that phone call you just had.”
“Yeah and instead I get to go home to yours?”
“My family’s not shitty. They’re nothing like me.”
You can’t lie to yourself and say that the offer isn’t tempting. Because as soon as you mention the word “boyfriend” to your mother she’ll be all over it. Like Frankie’s family, your mom’s been pestering you to settle down, too. If you offer her some sort of crumb to give her the indication that you’re finally “settling down” maybe she’ll leave you alone for once. 
“Just think about it,” Frankie says while you’re contemplating his offer to himself. 
He turns to walk back to his house but you stop him before he goes anywhere.
“Wait!”
He turns around to face you again with a hopeful look in his eye. You can’t believe you’re actually agreeing to this.
“Fine.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” you sigh, “I guess it beats going home to my family.”
“Thank you,” he says, pulling you in for a hug.
“Alright, the fake relationship hasn’t started yet,” you say, wincing at his embrace.
“Shit, you’re right,” he says, pulling away.
“How long are we there?”
“From the twenty-third until New Year’s. That okay with you? I know you have the bakery and all…”
It’s a little earlier than you prefer to close and it’s quite a long time to be gone but you suppose you can make do. Maybe you can catch a short flight home if you need to be back to the bakery by then?
“Yeah, fine with me. Where does your family live?”
“Savannah, Georgia.”
Oof, five hours in Frankie’s truck, just the two of you… But it’s worth it.
“Okay,” you sigh. 
“Great. Thank you so much. We’ll leave around ten, okay?”
“Alright. Sounds like a plan.”
“Oh, one more thing. Can you bake something?”
You let out a sigh. “Yeah, sure. I’ll think of what to make.”
“Thanks again,” he says, putting his hands together like he’s praying before turning and walking back to his house. You’re left in your driveway questioning all your life choices that led up to this moment. But now you get to call your mom and tell her about this mysterious boyfriend you just happened upon. 
You get in the car to leave for work and call your mom again, making sure to act a bit more pleasant this time. 
“Hello?”
“Hey, mom,” you say, putting on your cheeriest voice.
“What happened with your neighbor?”
“Oh, nothing. He just had a package for me. Got delivered to his house by accident.”
“Oh, okay. So are you coming home for Christmas or what?”
“Actually, I’m not. I’m sorry. But I have a good reason?”
“And that is?”
“I’m going to my boyfriend’s family’s Christmas.”
“Boyfriend? You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.”
“Uhh, it’s sort of new.”
“What’s his name?”
“Frankie.”
“Well, don’t fuck this one up. I want to meet him after Christmas, okay?”
Classic mom. She always has to make this about how much you suck.
“Of course. I’ll talk to you later, though. I gotta go open up the bakery.”
“Alright. Love you, bye.”
“Love you, too. Bye.”
That’s the best phone call you’ve had with your mom in a while. Maybe pretending to date Frankie will be a good thing?
-
It’s time to go. You're dressed in a comfy outfit for the drive. Everything’s packed and ready to go. You decided to make lemon bars from the lemon tree in your backyard. They’re packed away neatly in your to-go container. You head outside with all of your bags and Frankie meets you in your hard to help you. 
“Jesus, did you pack the kitchen sink, too?”
“Wow, you’re so funny,” you say, rolling your eyes. 
You’re already questioning why you said yes to this. But then your mother’s nagging voice is deep in the back of your mind. 
It’s better than going home, you tell yourself.
You get into the passenger seat and Frankie backs out of the driveway. You look at his lawn out the window as you leave. Still not cut, of course. 
For the first thirty minutes of the drive, it’s painfully silent. Until Frankie says, “You let me know if you need to stop to pee or something.”
“Okay…” you say awkwardly.
Another fifteen minutes goes by and he breaks the silence again. 
“You know, if we want to sell this we have to act like a real couple.”
You were dreading this conversation.
“Yeah…”
“For one, we’ll probably gonna be sharing a bed.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And we have to act like we somewhat like each other when we’re not alone.”
“I know,” you sigh.
“Think you can do that?”
“I said yes to this, didn’t I?”
“Right…”
You can’t sit through another uncomfortable silence again. You’ve still got like four more hours of this drive to go. 
“I guess we have to get to know each other.”
“Right. So what do you do? Oh fuck, I know you have the bakery but I meant tell me about it.”
“Uhh, right. I opened it four years ago. I just make desserts, like pastries and shit.”
“Gotcha.”
“What about you?”
“I used to be in the Army, specifically the Delta Force.”
“Oh, wow. How long were you in the Army?”
“I joined right after I got out of high school.”
“Long time,” you comment, “When did you leave?”
“About three years ago. I was just a pilot for a while.”
“Gotcha. What do you do now?”
“Not much. I’ve been living off my pension for the past two years after some shit happened.”
“We don’t have to talk about-”
“Our friend passed.”
“Oh, Frankie. I’m sorry.”
He says nothing more and you’re so curious for more information but you don’t want to pry either. It falls silent again and then you decide to pry for more information about a less heavy topic. 
“So… if you don’t mind me asking, what happened with your girlfriend?”
“She broke up with me two days before Thanksgiving.”
“That’s rough. What did you tell your family?”
“I pretended I was sick.”
“I’m sorry, Frankie.”
“Don’t be. I probably should’ve ended things a while ago. I don’t think she had any idea about who I really am.”
“Right.”
“She didn’t even know my full name.”
The cake that you made. 
“Yeah…”
“She put the wrong name and didn’t even get a cake I like.”
“About that.”
“Hm?”
“Do you know where she got that cake from?”
“No.”
“She came to my store.”
“…Did you know it was the wrong name?”
“Well yes, but what was I supposed to say? She’s the customer. I can't correct her. I just have to write what she ordered.”
“I know…” he sighs. 
“Regardless, it doesn’t change the fact that she was the wrong person for you, okay?”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. I felt bad making it.”
“You did?”
“I mean, it’s kinda shitty if your girlfriend doesn’t know your name, right?” You chuckle. 
“Right again,” he nods, looking over at you from the driver's seat. 
“So what kind of cake do you like then?” you ask. 
“Chocolate. I’m a simple guy.”
“Noted. So now I know Frankie Morales used to be in the Army, used to be a pilot, and likes chocolate cake. Anything else I need to know?”
“That about sums me up I guess.”
“Oh, come on! There’s more to you than that. What do you like to do for fun? Besides partying.”
“Oh, uh, I like to play poker with my friends. I’m into cars. And we’ll go support Benny at some of his matches. That’s pretty much all I do these days.”
“And also not cutting your lawn.”
“Listen-”
“And complaining about free fruit,” you tease. 
“Alright, alright. I know I haven’t been the best neighbor in the past.”
“Uh-huh,” you say sarcastically. 
“I guess after what happened I went down a spiral. And I was just… selfish for a while. Only caring about what I wanted to do and not thinking how it affects others.”
“That’s fair. You went through something traumatic.”
He opens his mouth to say something else but no words come out. It feels like he’s hiding something or not telling the full truth. And he wants to tell you, but he feels just can’t, that you’re not ready for that just yet. 
It’s silent again and this time you find yourself dozing off with your cheek pressed up against the cool glass window. Somehow you’re able to fall asleep to Frankie’s music that he put on to fill the silence. You recognize it’s a Tom Petty song, but as you’re trying to put your finger on just what song it is, sleep fully overtakes you. 
-
You were only out for about an hour and a half. It’s hard to sleep for long periods in a truck. As you open your eyes and stretch a little, Frankie says, “Wake up, sleepyhead. You’re officially the worst co-pilot in the world.”
“Whatever,” you say sarcastically, also while stifling back a yawn. 
“I’m just teasing. You can go back to sleep if you want.”
“It’s fine. I probably shouldn’t sleep for too long anyway. It’ll mess up my sleep schedule.”
“Oof, my sleep schedule is pretty fucked up.”
You glare at him from the passenger seat. But he doesn’t get why, looking at you and going “What?” with a shrug.
“I noticed,” you say coldly. 
Everyone knows the best time to air your grievances with each other is when you’re trapped in a moving vehicle together!
“Okay… Why do you seem mad?”
“You and your friends are just… loud.”
“Oh.”
“And I have to be up early in the mornings to open the store.”
“Oh,” he says again like the realization is hitting him. 
“It’s alright…” you say awkwardly, even though it’s not. 
“It’s not alright. I wasn’t being considerate.”
“I know, but I didn’t say anything either.”
“You sure said something about my lawn,” he teases. 
“Because it’s a fucking eyesore, Francisco!”
“Be honest. You just wanted to see me mowing the lawn with my shirt off.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Don’t lie! I saw the way you looked at me when you first moved in.”
“Oh, shut up!” you say, playfully slapping him on the arm. 
“You’re not denying it,” he says with a smirk.
“Yeah, yeah whatever. Maybe I thought you were cute when I first moved in. Didn’t last long, though.”
“I know,” he sighs, “I’m trying to be better. Ironically enough I think Heather dumping me was what I needed.”
“I think so, too.”
Before either of you can say anything else, Frankie’s passing a sign indicating there’s a rest stop ahead. 
“Can we stop? I have to pee,” you say. 
“Sure thing,” he says, pulling off the highway and into the rest stop parking lot. 
“Meet you back here?” you say, opening the door. 
“I’ll go with you. All sorts of seedy characters hang out at rest stops,” he says, getting out of the car and walking around to your side. 
He helps you get out of the truck and walks inside with you, placing a hand on the small on your back as you cross the parking lot. His head’s in a constant swivel, eyes scanning the crowd for any signs of trouble. 
“I think I’ll take it from here,” you say, stopping in front of the women’s restroom. 
“I’ll be waiting here,” he nods. 
You nod back and look at what he’s wearing; a burgundy t-shirt with a black zip-up sweatshirt, gray sweatpants, and of course the Standard Oil cap. Now that you’re starting to see Frankie for who he really is… you don’t mind him at all? Seven months ago you never thought this would’ve happened, that you’d actually be civil with him. Maybe you just had to give him a chance. 
You do your business and walk back out to the lobby to meet Frankie. He’s on high alert, standing stiff as a board and taking in all of his surroundings. Until he sees you and his face lights up. 
“I got us some stuff for the road!” he says cheerfully, holding up a plastic bag. 
You look inside the bag and “some stuff” was an understatement. It looks like Frankie bought out the entire store. There are bottles of water, soda, different kinds of chips, candy, and gum- you name it, he bought it. 
“I wasn’t sure what you liked. So I just got a few different things,” he says, most likely noticing how wide your eyes got. 
“Thanks, Frankie. That was sweet of you.”
“Do you need anything else before we get back on the road?”
“I think I’m all set,” you nod. 
You walk back to the truck with him and he does the same thing he did before, placing a hand on your back as you cross the parking lot. He opens your door for you and you take the bag from him once you’re settled in your seat. He gets back into the driver seat and soon enough, you’re back on the road.
“So I should probably prepare you for meeting my family,” he says, reaching for a Slim Jim in the bag. 
“Oh god, why?” 
“They’re not bad. They’re just… a lot? But they mean well.”
“Okay.”
“So you have my mother, Rosa, and my father Francisco Sr. But he passed away when I was twenty.”
“I’m sorry, Frankie.”
“Don’t be. It was a long time ago. I have three older sisters.”
“You’re the baby of the family?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Nothing. It just tracks.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, thanks. My sisters are Ria, Isabel, and Laura. Ria is married to Emmanuel and they have two kids, Luna and Camila. They’re college-aged. And then Isabel is with her wife, Aurora.”
“Okay,” you respond, mentally trying to keep track of all this. 
“And then Laura is married to Rafael and they have three kids, Sofia, Anthony, and Marcelo. Sofia is twelve. I think Anthony’s nine or ten. And Marcelo is four. He’s my favorite.”
“Frankie! You’re not supposed to have favorites.”
“It’s not like I tell them that. I also have two aunts, Aunt Linda and Aunt Maggie. They’re my mother’s sisters. And then my Uncle Tommy, he’s my dad’s brother. And then there’s Cousin Ben, he’s Tommy’s son, around my age.”
You’re doing mental gymnastics, trying to memorize everyone’s names, ages, and who they’re married to. 
“Got all that?” Frankie says with a smirk, noticing the puzzled expression on your face. 
“I think so?”
“Don’t worry. Everyone will introduce themselves when we get there. They’re not gonna leave you alone so sorry about that in advance.”
“It’s alright. It beats going home to my family.”
“What are they like? I’m assuming they’re… not good if you don’t want to go home for the holidays.”
“Yeah, you’ve got it pretty much. My mom is super overbearing and nitpicking. I can’t do anything, or wear anything, or even say anything without her giving her two cents. My dad just sits there and lets her spew her bullshit without a filter. And then my younger sister, Erica, is just… perfect. She can’t do anything wrong in their eyes.”
“That sounds tough.”
“It is. I stopped going home for both Thanksgiving and Christmas. I try to just do one each year but I can’t take it anymore.” 
“I understand,” Frankie says softly. 
“My sister’s in medical school to be a cardiologist. So to my parents, running a bakery just doesn’t compare.”
“That’s stupid. Don’t they know how hard it is to run your own business?”
“No, and they probably don’t care to be honest.” 
“I’m really sorry.”
“It’s alright. Thanks for getting me a way out of Christmas this year, though.”
“Of course. You’re doing me a big favor.”
The rest of the drive goes smoothly and eventually, you’re pulling into Frankie’s parents' house in Savannah. The second Frankie’s truck is in the driveway, an older woman, probably his mother, is running out of the front door and into the driveway. He parks the truck and you get out to meet her. She immediately pulls Frankie into a big hug. 
“My baby’s home!!,” she says, embracing him and placing her hands on the back of his head. 
“You and that damn hat,” she says, “You have such beautiful hair, mijo. Why do you hide it?”
“You know I like the hat, Ma.”
She pulls away and her eyes are immediately on you. You’re nervous about her first impression of you, even though you’re not even Frankie’s girlfriend. But she thinks you are and you need to play the part. 
“It’s so nice to meet you!” she says, pulling into a hug, too. She gives the best hugs, rubbing your back and swaying just a little, even though you just met. 
“I want you to be comfortable here, okay? My house is your house,” she says, pulling back and grabbing your hands. 
“Thank you so much for having me in your home, Mrs. Morales,” you smile. 
“Please! Call me Rosa. Let Francisco get the bags and we’ll go inside, yeah?”
“Okay,” you nod, following her inside the house. 
It’s a beautiful home, decorated to the nines with the Christmas spirit. She leads you to her living film where there are pictures of everyone Frankie mentioned on the way here. On the coffee table, there’s one of Frankie’s parents with him and his sisters. You can really see the resemblance there between him and his mom. They have the same warm brown eyes and dimples. 
“You have a beautiful home, Rosa,” you tell her, sitting on the couch next to her. 
“Thank you, honey,” she says, “Tell me about yourself. It’s so hard to get Francisco on the phone these days. I feel like I know nothing about you.”
“I live in Tampa like Frankie. We don’t live too far from each other And I run a bakery.”
“Wow, good for you. It’s hard running your own business. Your parents must be very proud.”
“They are,” you say, lying through your teeth. 
“How has my son been? He’s been a little off since he lost Tom in Colombia two years ago. He’s not doing drugs again, is he?”
“Oh! No, to my knowledge, he isn’t?” you respond, stumbling over your words. That was a lot of information to take in, most of it Frankie hasn’t told you about yet. 
“That’s good,” she sighs, “I worry about him.”
“I get it. But I think he’s on an upward trajectory.”
“Thank you, honey. I know he’s a lot to put up with.”
Frankie meets you in the living room and plops down on an armchair across from the couch, letting out an exasperated sigh. 
“Tired?” you chuckle. 
“Yeah,” he pants, “Someone had to pack everything they own and the kitchen sink, too.”
“Francisco! You grew up with all women. Don’t you know this is how we are?” his mother says. 
“Yeah, Frankie,” you add sarcastically. 
“You two are gonna be the death of me,” he says, leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes. 
“Where did you put the lemon bars?”
“In the refrigerator.”
“You made lemon bars? Francisco told me you liked to bake.”
“Yeah!” you say, turning towards her again, “I didn’t want to come empty-handed.”
“Why don’t you both help me prepare dinner for tomorrow night? After you rest, of course. You had a long drive.”
“Oh, yeah. I need a nap,” Frankie says, getting up from the chair and heading up the stairs. 
“Get some rest, honey,” she says, gesturing towards the stairs. 
“Okay,” you say, feeling a little awkward that you’re supposed to just go lay in a bed with Frankie. 
Frankie’s waiting for you at the top of the stairs, smiling down at you. For some reason the sight makes your heart skip a beat. You meet him upstairs and he leads you to his childhood bedroom. His walls are blue and his bookshelves are filled with baseball trophies from when he was a kid up until high school. There are a few car posters scattered on his ealls. The bags are at the foot of his bed that’s tucked away in the corner of his room and thankfully, it’s not a twin-sized bed. Across the room is his desk, a few comic books stacked in a messy pile like he never left. 
“This is my room,” he says, gesturing vaguely to the space around him. 
“Cute,” you say, walking around and eyeing some of the stuff he has on his shelves. There’s a picture in a frame of Frankie as a kid with presumably his father right after one of his baseball games. He was a cute kid, wearing a toothy grin with some holes for the baby teeth he lost. 
“That’s my dad,” he says, noticing you looking at the picture. 
“Now that I’m looking at him, I can’t tell who you look like more,” you comment. 
“Definitely my dad,” he says. 
You turn to look at him and realize he’s right. A lot of his facial features match his father’s, but his eyes- those are his mother’s. 
“Are you tired?” he asks. 
“A little,” you yawn. 
“I don’t have to sleep in bed with you,” he says quickly. 
“I thought you said we were going to? You know, to keep up appearances or something,” you say, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. 
“Oh, right. Just making sure.”
He takes off his sweatshirt and his hat, his curls matted down from wearing it on his head all day. He sets them down on the desk and walks over to the bed, pulling back the comforter and slipping in between the sheets. He moves to the side closest to the wall, letting you have the outside and the wall with the outlet to charge your phone like a true gentleman. You crawl in beside him, lying down side by side, mere inches from each other. 
“You don’t sleep naked, do you?”
He doesn’t say anything at first and you take that as a yes. 
“…I won’t while we’re home.”
“Cool,” you say awkwardly, rolling on your side and closing your eyes. 
“Goodnight?” he says. 
“It’s just a nap, but sure. Goodnight, Frankie,” you chuckle. 
…You do your best to fall asleep but to be honest, you’re freezing. You don’t really get why. You’re only a few hours north and Georgia doesn’t typically get too cold. Unless his mom has the air on or a window open; something. That doesn’t make sense, though. Don’t elderly people keep their houses entirely too hot?
“You’re shivering,” Frankie says, snapping you out of your thoughts. 
“What? No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. I can see you shaking.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t have to be cold.”
“What’s your solution then?”
“I could tell my mom to adjust the-”
“No, do not do that.”
“Or there’s the other option.”
“Uh huh…”
“I could hold you.”
“…You don’t have to.”
“I don’t mind.”
“…Fine.”
You feel him scooch closer to you and all of a sudden his warm chest is pressed up against your back. The comforter lifts for a second before his muscular arm wraps around you, pulling you even closer towards him. You’re immediately feeling warmer. He’s like a human space heater or something. 
“Better?”
“Y-Yeah. Thank you.”
As much as you hate to admit it, you’re much more comfortable now. However, there is one thing that’s keeping you from falling asleep. And that’s Frankie’s bulge presses right up against your ass. 
…You don’t hate it, though. If anything it makes you feel… good? Knowing that you have that effect on him. Maybe he really was jealous weeks ago at his birthday party. All of this begs the question; when did his feelings for you begin?
Lost in thought and enveloped in Frankie’s body heat, you drift off to sleep. 
-
You wake up an hour or so later to the doorbell ringing. Frankie wakes up, too, stretching and removing the arm that was slung over your waist. You already miss its absence. 
Frankie’s mom is talking to someone at the door. And it sounds like she’s talking to… a pizza delivery guy?
Frankie rolls onto his back, stretching again and yawning. You fall onto your back, too, lying side by side. 
“I think she ordered pizza,” Frankie says sleepily. 
“That was nice of her.”
“Just so we don’t have to worry about making dinner tonight while we prepare tomorrow’s.”
“Make sense,” you reply, rolling out of bed and stretching once your feet hit the floor. 
“Did you sleep well?” Frankie asks, sitting at the edge. 
“I did. Thanks for keeping me warm.”
“You’re welcome but it wasn’t all for you, though.”
“Oh?” you ask, wondering if he could be referring to the hard-on he had while holding you…
“Yeah, I can’t sleep next to you if you’re shaking like a leaf.”
You roll your eyes and he chuckles, leading you down the hallway and down the stairs, straight into the kitchen where the pizza awaits. 
“Dinner’s here!” Rosa says cheerfully, gesturing to the pizza boxes on the counter, “There’s a salad and garlic bread, too.”
“Thanks, Ma,” Frankie says, grabbing a plate from the cabinet and handing it to you.
“Thank you,” you say, “Are you sure you don’t want anything towards it?”
“Nonsense! When you’re in my house, I take care of you,” she says, waving you off. 
A saint of a woman she is. Frankie’s lucky to have a mother like her. The three of you sit at the kitchen counter eating while Rosa talks about what Christmas Eve dinner will be. 
“So tonight we’ll prepare the pasteles. And tomorrow we’ll do the rice and beans. Ria is bringing rolls. Laura’s bringing salad. And Isabel’s bringing flan.”
“Ooh, I love flan. I can make gingerbread cookies for Christmas Day, too,” you say, finishing your slice of pizza. 
“Thank you, honey. We’ll have a great time tomorrow. And you’ll get to meet all of Frankie’s sisters.”
“How exciting,” you say looking over at Frankie. 
“Frankie’s the baby of the family,” his mother says. 
“I could tell,” you snicker.
“What’s that supposed to mean?!”
“You just have little brother energy,” you shrug.
“What about you, dear?” his mom asks. 
“It’s just me and my sister. I’m the oldest.”
“Well you have older sister energy, so how about that?”
“So I’m wiser and more responsible?”
“Whatever,” Frankie sighs. 
“It’s true, Francisco. You can ask Ria.”
“Oh yeah, I’ll get right on that,” he says sarcastically, taking all your plates to the sink. 
You clean up from dinner with Frankie before preparing the pasteles. You’re standing at the kitchen island, stuffing the pasteles and listening to Rosa tell stories about Frankie when he was a kid. 
“He was my toughest kid to potty train,” she says, shaking her head. 
“Mom!” Frankie says, shooting daggers at her with his glare. 
“What? You were. And I have the pictures to prove it. For the first two years, you would only use the training potty. I’ll bring out the photo albums tomorrow.”
“No,” Frankie says quickly. 
“Oh yes,” you laugh. 
“Ughhh,” Frankie sighs while you and Rosa share a laugh. 
Soon enough all of the pasteles are prepped for tomorrow and the kitchen is clean again.
“Thank you both for helping me. Now get some sleep! You’ll need all the energy you can get to deal with this family.”
“Goodnight, Ma,” Frankie says, heading towards the stairs. 
“Goodnight. Thank you again for everything,” you say to her. 
“Of course, honey. See you in the morning!” she says. 
As you’re heading up the stairs, she calls out to Frankie, “Francisco! Make sure you show her where the fresh towels are!”
“I will, Ma,” Frankie says, calling down the stairwell. 
“You want to shower?”
Before you can respond he quickly adds, “Not with me of course.”
“I know,” you snort, “But sure. Where’s the bathroom?”
He leads you down the hallway and stops at a door on the right, opening to reveal a linen closet. 
“Towels are here. Bathroom’s over here,” he says, pointing to a door directly across from the linen closet. 
“Thanks,” you tell him, grabbing a towel and heading to the shower. You shut the door behind you and now that you’re alone for once, you let your mind wander…
What happened in Colombia? And what sort of drugs was Frankie on?
You turn on the shower and strip, letting the hot water run down your body as you think about all the possibilities. He did say he lost a friend. Maybe that’s what happened in Colombia. But that doesn’t explain the drugs. 
A knock on the door brings you back to reality. 
“Can I come in?” Frankie asks. 
“Uhh-”
“I just have to brush my teeth. I won’t look.”
“I guess.”
He opens the door and enters the bathroom, keeping his word and looking away from the shower curtain. In fact, he looks at anything else in the bathroom but the shower curtain, picking up a bottle of Tylenol from the medicine cabinet and reading the warnings. You poke your head out of the shower, watching as he brushes his teeth and reads the label on the bottle. And there’s something so… cute about it, so endearing. And now that you think about it, you wouldn’t particularly mind if he saw you in the shower. You can’t believe you’re actually admitting this to yourself. 
But before you know it he spits the sink and rinses his mouth, exiting the bathroom and leaving you with your confusing feelings yet again. You finish your shower and dry off, thinking about his mysterious past again. All of this strange information begs the question… What was he doing in Colombia in the first place? Does he have some dark secrets he’s hiding? And if so, how could he be so cute? 
You look at the toilet and see that Frankie also brought you your pajamas, flannel Christmas pants, a short-sleeved shirt, and a pair of lacy underwear…
That means he went through your bag, which should make you mad but the fact he decided to bring you your pajamas so you didn’t have to walk down the cold hallway sopping wet is adorable. 
You’ll ask him about his past later you decide. For now, he’s your cute pretend boyfriend and you’re going to live in that fantasy for a while. 
Once you’re dry and dressed, you hang your towel up on a hook and walk back to Frankie’s room, where he’s tucked into bed waiting for you. You crawl into bed beside him, lying down on your side and feeling his warm embrace again. His arm returns around your waist and soon enough you’re falling asleep, comforted by his warmth and his scent. 
-
The smell of food cooking downstairs wafts up to Frankie’s room, pleasantly waking you up. Frankie’s lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling with his hands folded neatly on his tummy. 
You roll over and ask, “You okay?”
“Me? Oh yeah, I’m fine. I think I’m just nervous.”
“Nervous for what? Your family sounds awesome.”
“They are. They can just be overwhelming, I guess.”
“I get it. It’ll be fine, though. Like you said, I don’t think they’ll leave me alone.”
“Right,” he says, shaking his head, “It’s stupid. Today’s gonna be fun.”
“Wanna help me with the gingerbread cookies?” you say, getting out of bed and stretching once your feet hit the floor. 
“Sure,” he says, sitting at the edge and yawning, “Do you need to get anything for them?”
“I could just DoorDash some stuff. I don’t want to raid your mom’s kitchen.”
“Ah, she won’t mind. Let’s go downstairs.”
He stands up and stretches, the short-sleeved shirt he’s wearing lifting a little and exposing some of his tummy. His flannel pajama pants are hanging low on his hips and he’s got a little bed-head going on, his curls slightly matted in the back. God, he’s just so… cute. You can’t deny it any longer. As much as you don’t want it to be true, Frankie Morales is a cute man.
You follow him downstairs to the kitchen where his mother is cooking away, stirring different pots and pans on the stove. 
“Good morning you two,” she smiles. 
“Good morning,” you respond, “It smells amazing down here.”
“Thank you, honey.”
“Ma, I think we’re going to make the gingerbread cookies if we won’t be in your way.”
“Go ahead! By all means. Maybe you can decorate them with the kids tonight?”
“Good idea! Do you need me to get anything from the store?”
“Nonsense! I should have everything you need.”
“Told you,” Frankie says, opening a cabinet and looking through the shelves with you. 
To your surprise, she has everything you need for the cookies. And as you sit down at the dining room table Frankie says, “This kitchen is always fully stocked.”
As you roll the dough you think about tonight, meeting the rest of Frankie’s family. You’re excited to meet them but you’re also wondering what you should wear. You packed a few different options for outfits because every family’s vibe is different. Your family tends to lean more formal when it comes to holidays but Frankie’s family could be the complete opposite. 
“Frankie?” you ask, cutting the gingerbread men out with a cookie cutter. 
“Yeah?”
“What does your family wear on Christmas? Like do they dress up?”
“Oh, we abandoned trying to look nice a long time ago. Especially once my sisters started having kids.”
“Oh, okay. So don’t dress up?” 
“Nah.”
That makes you feel at least a little relieved. For some reason, you’re dying for them to like you. And you don’t even get why. You’re not Frankie’s girlfriend. There’s a large chance you’ll never see them again after you leave and go back to Florida. 
Once the cookies are on the trays, you pop them in the oven and set a timer on your phone. Rosa’s just about finished with dinner for tonight and Frankie’s cleaning up the mess from the cookies. You look at the clock on the stove and ask, “What time is everyone coming?”
“Around five or so.”
It’s already two-thirty now. You should probably get ready soon, in case Rosa and Frankie need the shower. 
“I’ll pull the cookies out if you want to go get ready,” Frankie says as if he read your mind. 
“Oh okay, thanks. Fifteen more minutes.”
“Gotcha,” he says, leaning against the counter beside the stove. 
You go upstairs and into Frankie’s room, going over all of your outfit choices in your head. You decide to wear option 3, light wash jeans and an emerald green sweater, nothing too fancy. You grab your clothes and your makeup and head to the bathroom, taking extra time to get ready. The timer on your phone for the cookies goes off and you hope Frankie remembers to take them out. You continue your shower, anxiously thinking about meeting the rest of his family. 
Eventually, as you’re dressed and putting on your makeup, Frankie knocks on the door. 
“Can I come in?”
“Go ahead,” you say, leaning forward toward the mirror and putting on your mascara. 
He opens the door and looks at you, practically bent over the sink. 
“You look…”
“Huh?” you, turning your head towards him. 
“You look nice,” he says, eyes wide. 
“Thanks. I’m almost done and then the bathroom’s all yours.”
“No rush. Take your time.”
You finish your makeup and gather all your stuff, leaving him in the bathroom and heading back to his room. You plop your stuff down on his bed and think of what to do next. Might as well make yourself useful while he’s showering and get the icing bags ready for the gingerbread cookies. You head back down to the kitchen, where Rosa’s sitting at the table with a cup of coffee. 
“You look beautiful, honey,” she says. 
“Thank you,” you say, sitting down across from her. 
“Francisco’s in the shower?”
“Yes, he is. I think I’m going to get the icing bags ready for the cookies if that’s alright.”
“Of course,” she says, springing up from her chair and rifling through the kitchen cabinets. 
She pulls out an electric mixer, confectioners sugar, and food coloring, setting them down on the table. 
“Milk’s in the refrigerator and let me get you some Ziploc bags…” she says, reaching into the cabinet again.
“Thanks,” you say, getting to work on the icing while she sits across the counter and watches. 
“I know I’ve just met you but I want to say thank you, for taking care of my son,” she says. 
“Of course,” you smile, scooping icing into the ziploc bag for makeshift piping bags.
“He hasn’t been the same since Tom died. But now that he’s here, it’s like he’s his old self again.”
Tom. There’s that name again. You have to know what happened if you’re going to keep up this charade. This is the second time she’s mentioned it and you’re playing along like you know what happened. It’s bound to come up again. 
“I’m glad he’s doing much better,” you say, adding food coloring to the bags. 
Eventually, you hear the water turn off which means Frankie must be getting out of the shower. Rosa gets up from her stool and says, “Well now that Francisco’s finally done, I guess I’ll go shower. I’m sure he left me no hot water.”
You two share a laugh and she heads up the stairs. You’re left alone with your thoughts until Frankie comes back downstairs again. So for now, in the fleeting moments of solitude, you think of ways to ask Frankie about his past that don’t sound completely insensitive. You could ask him under the guise of just trying to keep the charade going. This whole thing was his idea. He’d have to understand, right?
“Hey,” he says, snapping you from your thoughts. You didn’t even notice him coming downstairs. 
“Hi.”
“These look good. The kids will have fun decorating them.”
“I hope so,” you say.
You’re both just standing awkwardly in the kitchen, not saying a word. You think to yourself that maybe now would be the best time to ask, in case you need this information for tonight to go smoothly. 
You open your mouth to ask, “What happened in Colombia?” but you’re interrupted by the front door opening. 
“Feliz Navidad!” a woman’s voice shouts. You’re assuming it’s one of Frankie’s sisters or aunts. 
He pokes his head down the hallway and shouts, “Ria!” 
You glance over at the clock and she’s early. Frankie looks over at you and says, “She’s always early.”
“She’s the oldest?”
He nods. It makes sense. 
She comes into the kitchen and pulls Frankie into a big hug. She looks like a younger version of Rosa, a little bit shorter than Frankie. Her husband and kids pile in behind her, her girls hugging Frankie and her husband shaking his hand. 
“So nice of you to show up for Christmas. Not battling some mysterious illness this time, huh?” she teases. 
“I’m not lying! I was really sick.”
You’re standing there awkwardly in the kitchen, not trying to interrupt the family reunion. It isn’t until one of Ria’s daughters looks over at you and asks, “Who’s this?” that your presence is acknowledged. 
Frankie walks over to you and snakes an arm around your waist, proudly saying, “This is my girlfriend!” followed by your name. 
“Nice to meet you!” Ria says, “It’s been such a long time since Francisco’s brought a girl home!”
This is the second family member to refer to him as Francisco and now you’re wondering if you should be doing the same. Before you can continue she motions her daughters over and says, “This is Luna and Camila. Luna’s in her junior year of college and my Camila’s a senior in high school!”
“Exciting times for both of you,” you comment, not really knowing what to say. 
But Ria continues anyway. “And this is my husband, Emmanuel,” she says, gesturing to her husband in the corner. He seems like the quiet type, letting his wife do all the talking in social situations. 
“Where’s Ma?” Ria asks Frankie. 
“In the shower. Are the others on their way?”
“Laura’s almost here. Isabel and Roro will probably be late as per usual. Will you grab the rolls out of the car?”
Emmanuel nods, again not saying much of a word at all before heading out to the car in the driveway. Ria and the girls take off their coats, hanging them on a coat rack by the front door. While Luna and Camila retreat to the living room, Ria takes the rolls from Emmanuel and puts them in the drawer underneath the oven, putting them on a low setting to keep the rolls warm until dinner starts. Soon enough, you’re all sitting in the living room together, awkwardly exchanging glances and waiting for either Rosa to come downstairs or for someone else to arrive. 
And for a while, it feels like the front door doesn’t close, a slew of family members coming in left and right. First, it was Aunt Maggie. Then it was Laura with her husband, Rafael, and their kids, Sofia, Anthony (who insists you call him Tony), and Marcelo, Frankie’s favorite. And Frankie wasn’t lying about Marcelo being his favorite, his eyes practically lit up the moment Laura walked in the door, carrying him on her hip. After Laura’s family, Uncle Tommy and Cousin Ben came. Frankie’s arm around your waist tightened when Ben looked you up and down which made your heart do somersaults. Aunt Linda followed soon after. And finally, last but not least, Isabel and Aurora (who goes by Roro) arrived. 
Somewhere in between all of the commotion Rosa returned downstairs. And you’re left with your head spinning, trying to keep track of everyone’s names and trying to make a good first impression. And you think you succeeded? Laura and her kids are really nice. Marcelo’s been hanging off you and Frankie since he set foot in the door. Isabel is definitely the coolest Morales sister out of the three of them. You don’t really have any complaints about Frankie’s aunts. And Uncle Tommy’s been dozing off on the couch, reminding everyone to wake him up when it’s time for dinner. You don’t mind Ben at all but he definitely has a little crush on you. You don’t spend too much time talking to him, just enough to learn he teaches high school English.
You also noticed that Isabel, Roro, Uncle Tommy, Ben, and his brother-in-law all call him Frankie and not Francisco. But his mom, Ria, Aunt Maggie, and Aunt Linda call him Francisco. And to the nieces and nephews, he’s Uncle Frankie of course. 
Eventually, Rosa announces that it’s time for dinner. Frankie and Ben set up a small folding table for the kids, except for Marcelo who sits on Laura’s lap. You sit in between Frankie and Isabel. Rosa sits at the head of the table and before everyone digs in she says, “Now who would like to say grace?”
“I will,” Tony says, raising his hand from the kids' table.
“Go ahead,” Rosa says.
“Grace. Okay, we’re done. Let’s eat, everybody!”
Everyone shares a laugh and Rosa decides, “You know what? It’s good enough for me!”
The rest of Christmas Eve goes smoothly. After dinner, you help the adults clean up before bringing out the gingerbread cookies to decorate. All of the kids, even Luna and Camila, sit around the table with you, decorating the cookies with your makeshift piping bags. Ria takes a picture of you guys, brows furrowed in concentration as you all try to make the cookies absolutely perfect. 
“Aren’t you gonna do one?” you ask Frankie, who’s standing beside you and watching. 
“Sure,” he says, pulling up a chair. 
He grabs a gingerbread woman and begins to draw a face on her. But before he’s done he gives her a frown and angry eyebrows, holding it up and saying, “Look! It’s you when I don’t mow the lawn!”
“Oh, shut up,” you reply, grabbing your own gingerbread man and giving him not only angry eyebrows but a yellow blob in his hand. 
“Look! It’s you when you complain about free lemons.”
The kids laugh even though they don’t know the full context of the joke. But once the last cookie is decorated, people begin to head out, wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and saying goodnight. Once the main level is cleaned up you and Frankie say goodnight to his mom. She tells you that Christmas dinner is at Ria’s and that it starts at two. 
With that, you’re off to bed, returning to your rightful place of being spooned by Frankie. And for once, the two of you are alone again. Your mind goes back to Tom, what happened in Colombia, and Frankie’s drug addiction. You’re just gonna do it, rip the bandaid off
“Frankie?”
“Hm?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure, what is it?”
“Well, earlier your mom was talking about your friend Tom and what happened in Colombia… I know it’s not really my business but should I know what happened? You know to keep up the act-”
He sighs and you fear you’ve overstepped.
“I figured it was going to come up sooner or later.”
He pulls away to rest on his back, staring at the ceiling and recounting what happened. You lie on your back, too, looking over at him as he begins his story. 
“A few years ago, I developed a really bad addiction to coke. And it cost me almost everything. I lost my pilot's license. Santiago approached me, Tom, Will, and Benny about going to Colombia to steal money from this drug lord, Lorea.”
“I see,” you comment, letting him continue.
“It seemed appealing at the time. I needed the money, you know?”
“I get it,” you say softly.
“The mission was a fucking shitshow. We took fucking two hundred and fifty million dollars and lost all of it. It was too heavy for the helicopter so we crash-landed in a cocaine farm. They thought we were DEA and Tom killed some of them. So then we had to pay them as some kind of reparation. We went through the Andes on mules and two of the villagers followed us. One of them shot Tom and we had to carry him, the rest of the money through the mountains. When we finally reached the coast, the getaway boat was there waiting for us but the town was filled whatever was left of Lorea’s crew. There was no way we could carry all that cash with Tom’s body and make it to the boat without being killed. So we had to dump most of it down a fucking ravine.”
He’s getting more and more upset as he tells his story. And you feel guilty you even asked in the first place. He didn’t need to tell you all the details. He could’ve said his friend Tom died on a military mission in Colombia and that would’ve been enough to quell your curiosity. 
“Somehow we made it to the boat, but not without a fucking car chase and shootouts. By the end, we were left with a little over one million dollars each, but we decided to give it all to Tom’s family,” he says, finishing with a deep breath. 
You roll onto your side and look over at him. He’s not crying but you can tell he’s visibly upset, his eyes misty. 
“Thanks for sharing that with me. I know it’s hard to recount a traumatic experience like that.”
“It’s okay. Figured you should probably know. My family thinks it was some sort of mission for the Army, not that we went rogue. I don’t want them to know the true nature of what it was… greed.”
“Understandable.”
“So after all that I came home with a dead friend and no money.”
“I guess the overgrown lawn and the constant partying make sense now.”
That actually gets him to laugh. 
“I guess it does,” he chuckles, “But thanks for putting up with me.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“And thanks for coming here and doing this for me. That happened two years ago and my family has been worried sick about me since. Whenever my mom calls me I just… I just lie. I think if she saw how I was doing now it would break her heart. But here with you, she thinks you’re like my saving grace.”
You don’t say anything because you really don’t know what to say. It’s nice his mother feels that way, but it’s all a lie. 
“I know that was a lot…” he says.
“You’re okay. I’m here to listen,” you reassure him. 
“You should probably get some sleep. You’ll need all the energy you can get to deal with my family for another day.”
“Okay,” you sigh, rolling over to your other side. Frankie spoons you again like he always does. This time you don’t feel something hard against your lower back, instead you feel Frankie’s breath by your ear. 
“Thank you,” he whispers, holding you a little tighter as he falls asleep. 
-
You wake up to Frankie still holding you just as tight. You’ve never had a Christmas like this, one so peaceful. 
And then it hits you… it’s Christmas. Which means you need presents, something you completely forgot all about. You were too wrapped up in pretending to be Frankie’s girlfriend. 
“Frankie?”
“Yeah?”
Has he been awake this whole time? And still holding you just as tight… 
Whatever, worry about that later. 
“I forget to get everyone fucking presents.”
“Already took care of it.”
“Really?” 
“Mhm,” he says, propping his elbow on the pillow and looking down at you, “You’ve never met them before. How could you get presents for people you don’t even know?” 
“Right,” you say, lying on your back. 
“Merry Christmas,” he smiles. 
“Merry Christmas,” you respond. 
“Let’s go exchange with my mom.”
You roll out of bed first and let him grab the presents from his suitcase. 
“What did I get her?”
“A sweater. It’s her favorite color.”
“Ooh, good idea.”
He hands you the present and it’s wrapped like a typical guy would wrap it. 
“I’m telling her you wrapped it.”
“Oh, she’ll be able to tell,” he laughs. 
You follow him down the stairs where his mother is sitting on the couch watching a Hallmark movie. She smiles and wishes you a Merry Christmas when she sees you, grabbing presents from under the tree. 
You give her the present “you” got her and she clocks Frankie’s wrapping job right away. 
“I can tell Francisco wrapped this,” she chuckles, unwrapping the gift and opening the box. She tells you she loves it and pulls you in for a big hug. Even though you didn’t actually buy the gift, you can’t help but appreciate the sense of approval. Your mom would’ve criticized whatever you got her, no matter how great the gift was. 
Rosa got Frankie a wallet with his initials engraved in the leather. She got you an apron with your name embroidered on it. Both presents were very thoughtful and as she’s pulling out the photo albums like she promised the other day, Frankie whispers in your ear, “She’s big on getting things personalized.”
The three of you spend the rest of the morning looking at photo albums until it’s time to get ready to go to Ria’s. For once, Frankie can’t wait to jump in the shower, anything to get away from the “embarrassing” pictures his mom is showing you. 
Once the three of you are ready you drive to Ria’s in Frankie’s truck, with the gifts piled in the back seat. He parks on the street and you head inside to the already bustling house. Everyone shouts “Feliz Navidad” as you’re taking off your shoes before joining them at the table. 
The menu for Christmas dinner is empanadillas, tostones, pernil, and arroz con gandules. And for dessert, there’s tembleque, the gingerbread cookies you and the kids decorated, and of course, the lemon bars. 
Christmas Day goes even better than Christmas Eve. All of the presents got for you to give to his family were a hit, but not without a sly comment from Frankie.
“You know… She did have some help,” he says with a smirk and a wink.
That earned him a smack on the arm.
Eventually, the evening is winding down. The kids are sitting under the tree playing with their toys and the adults are scattered around the house. For once, there’s no one paying attention to you two.
“Come with me,” Frankie says, getting off the couch and grabbing his coat.
“Where are we going?” 
“For a walk,” he says. 
You follow him to the front door, slipping on your shoes and coat. The two of you walk side by side on the sidewalk. It’s silent between you two but it’s a comfortable silence. But as you stop underneath a streetlamp, Frankie says, “I have something for you.”
“Frankie! You didn’t have to.”
“No, I really did. And I wanted to. It’s not just a Christmas present but it’s also a thank you for doing this for me… And also an apology for being a shitty neighbor,” he chuckles.
He pulls out a box from his coat pocket and hands it to you. You lift the lid to reveal a gold chain with a pendant, and a lemon stamped into the metal.
“Aw, Frankie… This is so sweet.”
“Look at the back,” he says softly.
You flip over the pendant and engraved on the back is your street name, Magnolia Drive. You look back at Frankie and his face is nervous, as if he’s waiting for your approval. His brow furrowed, his face dimly lit under the streetlamp, and his curls peeking out under his stupid fucking hat. All you can do at that moment is kiss him. He’s shocked for a second but it doesn’t take long for him to melt into your touch and wrap his arms around you. 
He pulls away for a second to ask, “I take it you like it?”
“I love it, Frankie,” you nod, leaning in for a kiss again.
And for a moment you two stay there, holding each other under the streetlamp on Christmas night. 
“I didn’t get you a present,” you admit, resting your head against his chest.
“You already did. You did me a huge favor. It’s a lot to deal with my family.”
“I didn't just deal with them. I liked being with them.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, like you said before, they’re nothing like you.”
“Shut up,” he says, pulling you in for another kiss. 
After a while he says, “We should probably get back.”
You nod and follow him back to Ria’s house where you bid your goodbyes to everyone and head back to Rosa’s for the night. She turns in early and now it’s just you and Frankie alone again. But being alone with him feels different this time. Not only because you just kissed but also because you think… you have feelings for him. Maybe it’s the holiday spirit talking or how vulnerable he was last night, but you have to admit to yourself that Frankie Morales is not only a cute man but a man you misjudged this whole time. 
Once you’re back upstairs to Frankie’s room, you’re sitting side by side on his bed. The silence is back and you’re wondering if you shouldn’t have kissed him earlier. Maybe all you are to him is someone who did him a favor, someone who’s just his neighbor and nothing more. 
“I’m sorry about the kiss. I-”
“You’re sorry?”
“Well yeah, I-”
“I’ve wanted to do that for so long, cariño.”
“How long?”
“Soon after you moved in next door.” 
“Really? I thought you hated me.”
“No, I never did. I just liked pushing your buttons. You’re cute when you’re irritated.”
Your brain is short-circuiting, in disbelief at what he’s saying.
“Even when you were with Heather?”
“Mhm.”
“Is that why you were so jealous of Benny at your birthday party?”
“...Maybe,”
“Mmm, you’re cute when you’re jealous,” you say, leaning in for another kiss.
This time the kiss is needier, and more passionate, like you can’t get enough of each other’s touch, scent, and taste. His hands caress either side of your face as his body leans into you more, coaxing you to lie down on his bed. His mouth leaves yours, trailing along your jawline and down your neck. Your breath hitches as he nips at your skin, immediately licking the bruised skin afterward. He moves down lower, lips moving along your collarbone, until he’s completely kneeling on the floor in front of his bed. His hands hook around the waistband of your pants, sliding them off in one clean motion before going to remove your panties.
“Frankie?” you ask, resting on your elbows and looking down at him.
“Yeah?”
“What about like… your mom?”
“She sleeps like a rock,” he says bluntly, returning to what he was doing before. 
He pulls off your panties and spreads your legs, looking at how wet your cunt is already. 
“Mm, so wet for me, cariño,” he muses, his warm breath tickling your core.
Before you can respond, he licks one long, slow stripe up your cunt, sending a shiver up your spine.
“Fuck, Frankie,” you breathe out, eliciting a chuckle from him.
He goes back in for another, licking up and down your entrance slow, enough to drive you crazy. And then, he moves to your clit, tongue swirling around it as your back arches up off the bed. He hooks his arms around your thighs, keeping you in place as he gets to work, nose grinding against your clit while his tongue licks your cunt. It doesn’t take long for you to cum, his face taught against your cunt as you do so. 
Once you’re done, he rests his head against your inner thigh, admitting the mess he just made. The lower half of his face is soaked, his patchy facial hair glistening. He returns back to your cunt for one more lap of his tongue, just to taste you one more time before rising from the floor and taking off his clothes. You sit up and take off your sweater and your bra, tossing them on the floor and lying back down. You inch up a little higher on the bed to make room for him as he hovers over you. 
“I have a confession to make,” he says, looking down at you with a sly grin.
“Oh??”
“This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you naked.”
“Uhh-”
“Your bathroom window faces mine.”
“...It does?”
“Mhm. Saw you drying off one day.”
“Oh yeah? And then what?”
He bends down and whispers in your ear, “Jerked off in the shower to the thought of you.”
Your whole body shudders.
“Touch me, Frankie, please,” you whine.
“Are you begging, cariño?”
“Fuck. Yes, I am,” you whimper.
“Good girl,” he whispers in your ear, his hand caressing the outline of your breast before moving to your nipple. His other hand gathers some of your releases and strokes his cock, getting extra hard before sliding inside you, all while he plays with your nipple. You gasp at the sensation, feeling his length stretch your walls; feeling like you’re being split apart.
“You can take it,” he softly commands, bringing his face away from your ear and looking into your eyes again. He studies the expression on your face; the open mouth and the tears in the corners of your eyes, and his lips curve into a smirk. He draws his hips back and thrusts into you again, your cunt feeling completely full. Your soft moans are like music to his ears but he needs to hear more, not necessarily more sounds but a confession from you, too.
“Be honest, cariño. You’ve thought about fucking me too, haven’t you?”
It’s actually insane that this is the same sweet man who gave you the most thoughtful Christmas present earlier tonight. The same man who confessed to jerking off in the shower after seeing you naked.
“Y-yes…” you confess.
“What was that? Didn’t hear you,” he says as his hand to your other breast, taking your nipple in between his fingertips. 
“Fuck, Frankie yes, I’ve thought about it.”
“When?” he presses further, keeping the same pace with his thrusts.
“All the time. Even when you piss me off.”
“Knew it,” he teases, slamming his hips back into you. He rests his elbows on the other side of your head, face to face with you as he fucks you relentlessly.
“Frankie, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper.
“Let me feel it, cariño,” he says, studying your face again.
You close your eyes as you cum but that just won’t do for him. He wants you to look directly into the eyes of the man who made a mess of you.
“Look at me,” he softly commands.
You open your eyes, locking with his as you cum around his cock, feeling your walls flutter and pulsate in rhythmic patterns.
“Good girl,” he praises, thrusting into you one final time before coming, too. He paints your insides with his cum before pulling out of you and lying down on the bed. You roll over and situate yourself in the crook of his neck, resting your hand on his chest.
“You’re amazing,” he says, taking the his hat off his head and propping it on the bed post before wrapping his arm around you. There’s his sweet side again.
“I can’t believe you saw me naked,” you tease, still sort of in disbelief.
“Two times now. It’s a Christmas miracle,” he jokes.
You have to agree with him. He feels you twitch against him and he whispers, “Goodnight. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” you whisper back, letting sleep consume you.
New Year’s Eve
You’re spending New Year’s Eve at a bar with some of Frankie’s friends from high school. Ever since the night you got together, you’ve been leaning into the girlfriend role more, feeling like it’s not a charade anymore. Frankie doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he welcomes it. This is what the two of you wanted all along, even if both of you didn’t know it.
You’re watching the ball drop in New York City on the TV at the bar with Frankie’s arm snaked around your waist. As the clock strikes midnight, you kiss, feeling like you’re starting the year off right for once.
“Look at you,” you whisper against his lips, “Ending the year in a fake relationship and starting the new year in a real one.”
“Wouldn’t want it any other way,” he whispers back. 
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