#all in the like... next two and a half weeks lol

[hungharrington]

So I was reading your post about how Steve takes pride in having a scratched up back and it got me thinking about how he’d react to his girl being physically unable to stand/walk the morning after. Like he’d be so smug for at least a week all like >:) hehehe I did that >:). And the entire day he’d be all smirky like ‘does my baby need to be carried’ and then you tell him he’s banned from sex for a week lol.

FJDHSHSHS this ask made me actually cackle it was so golden thank u so much for sending it to me <3 it’s more goof than smut <3

There’s an ache between your thighs and you know exactly where you got it.

Well, you know precisely how you got it— from the culprit currently dozing beside you in early morning light. 

You have to blink heavily as you come to, drawn out of a deep, deep sleep by the morning dawn. It’s light enough outside for the room to have a soft glow. The curtains are still drawn and the sheets are fresh, though after last night, perhaps they’ll need changing again.

Shifting about to get comfortable, you feel that familiar tenderness between your legs — it’s a soreness that you only get from particularly passionate night.

You peek to the side, searching for your love.

Steve’s hair is sticking up at all angles, mussed up, and his mouth is open, snuffly snores getting pressed into his pillow.

You can’t see that with his back to you, but you can see that canvas of tan skin and moles.

And scratches. Lots and lots of scratches, pink against his skin and raised in some places. An undeniable mark of a good time.

At the sight, some flusters and something preens in you. It stems from something possessive, a purr hiding under your skin at the knowledge you’ll both be feeling little reminders this morning.

You shuffle closer and wake him with a kiss on the back of his neck.

Like your lips stir him, Steve gives a sleepy groan in response, making you smile. You kiss him again, this time further up along his shoulder, and then give him an affectionate little bite. Barely a nibble.

“Mm, hey,” Steve says, voice faux-stern and coated in sleep. It’s gravelly enough to make you consider a round two. You watch over his shoulder as his eyelashes scrunch open. “What’re doin’ back there?”

You soothe your tiny bite-mark with another kiss and push yourself up, sheets pooling around your waist. As much as you’d love to doze off in Steve’s arms all morning, there’s things on your to-do list.

“Nothing of consequence,” you say, looking down at Steve with a loving smile. You trace across between the moles of his back with an idle finger, until he rolls over toward you, forcing you to stop.

“Mhm,” He hums. His hazel eyes are warm like the morning, like the bed, like the softness between you.

“I think that means nothing important— to which I have to protest,” He captures your wandering hand and kisses it gently, eyes fixed on you. “Massively.” Another kiss. “Majorly. Everything you do is important.”

The next kiss is so feathersoft, on the delicate skin on the inside of your wrist, that your laugh is tickled out of you. Worming your hand out of his hold, you grin, even as you roll your eyes.

“Suck up.”

Steve laughs, his voice still rougher than usual. He wiggles his eyebrows at you. “Nuh uh.”

The warmth of his gaze glazes over you as you turn and shuffle to your edge of the bed, pushing on your hands to get to your feet.

It takes about half a second before the ache in your core sends out a hot throb of pain and pleasure, a very imaginable reminder of just how Steve had drilled the ache into you a mere few hours ago.

You push through it and stand, but your legs shake noticeably.

“Oho, baby,” Steve coos, noticing immediately. You turn to glare at him over your shoulder and find he’s perked up, his head held up in his hand. He looks divine — and far, far too happy about the quake in your legs.

“Rough night?”

“Shut up,” You say with no bite. “Like it isn’t your damn fault.”

Steve laughs, “That’s exactly why I’m smirking, honey.”

You take a step and your legs feel no less like jelly, a little bend in your knees you have to correct quickly.

The warm ache pulses and you can only think of—Steve pushing your thigh up against your chest, grinding his hips into you, each deep thrust pulling these desperate sounds from you as he lost himself in you—

You take another step and something buckles, making you stumble for a moment. Your face flames with heat.

“Woah, you alright?” There’s a tint of concern to Steve’s voice as he properly sits up in the bed and scoots over to sit closer to your side. Reaching out, he tenderly rubs your lower back, his brows pinched together as he checks you over.

“I’m okay,” You say over your shoulder to appease his genuine worry. Then you lean back into his hand with a dramatic huff, rolling your eyes again. “No thanks to you.”

“Mm, I fucked you good,” Steve hums casually, leaning forward to press a kiss to the hip he can reach. There’s a smugness to his tone that you actually can’t dispute because he’s absolutely correct.

“Does baby need to be carried?” He says, enjoying himself far too much.

You glare down at him, letting him simmer in his smugness for just a moment. Your hand reaches down, tangling in his hair, and you smile like you’re about to fall into his arms and say oh yes baby, please.

“I think,” You begin, casting your gaze to the ceiling as you think. “Mm, no sex for a week for that comment.”

Steve’s mouth pops open, an aghast expression on his face. “Baby!”

You wander backward, away from his wandering hand, focusing on making sure your legs keep you upright. There’s a goading grin on your face.

“You heard me.”

“That’s- you— I’m being punished for being good at my job!”

Your head tilts back in laughter as you reach the doorway. You eye him with a knowing smirk, shaking your head softly. “That’s not why you’re being punished and you know why…”

As you turn, heading for the kitchen, you don’t doubt the pout on Steve’s lips.

[asxgard]

Any Excuse | one shot

Dr. Jack Abbot x f!Hospitalist!reader

Requested

Summary: A snapshot of your interactions with the ruggedly handsome ER doctor, and several of the excuses he uses to see you.

[ Masterlist ]

Anon Request: I have a request! Jack Abbot x reader where the reader is a new night-shift hospitalist (the doctor that is responsible for taking care of patients admitted to the hospital from the ER) at PTMC. She and Jack hit it off after meeting and he keeps trying to come up with any excuse at all to admit patients just to have to contact her. And maybe he goes and visits his admitted patients “just to check up on them” even though he never has before and probably barely remembers their names just to see her. And the night shift ER crew just smirk at each other whenever she goes to their department to see a patient and interacts with Abbot.

Note: so I read a bunch of articles about hospitalists and I still feel like I might have misunderstood, so this took a bit longer than intended lol but here it is! I hope you enjoy💜

Word Count: 1.4k

All of my works are 18+ due to general adult content.

Warnings: hospital setting, medical inaccuracies, foul language, pining, slowburn? (can I say that in a one shot? lol), so much sass & flirting

not beta read

Jack thought that the first time he saw you, he had to be dreaming. A cliched savior in a white lab coat, moving through the Pitt with a purpose and a smile. He had heard about the new hospitalist floating around, having started several weeks prior, but he had never seen you down in the Pitt before.

You had come down for an admitted patient, and when you stopped in front of him to go over the case, it took him a second to speak.

“Finally come to see how the other half lives?”

“More like finally hitting rock bottom.” You supplied effortlessly with a smirk.

One side of Jack’s lips tilted upwards, “Patient’s been waiting nearly two hours on a bed upstairs.”

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game.” You said, eyes flickering across the busy ED, “You’re lucky he wasn’t waiting for surgery. You’d wait all night.”

Jack handed over the tablet showing the patient’s chart. You skimmed through it quickly, humming as you did.

“Great, I’ll go get him to radiology. Thank you, Dr. Abbot.” You said, smiling at him.

He watched you go with an uncapped fascination. With the tiniest hint of a smile, Jack got back to work.

—

The next time he saw you, you were in one of the ED rooms, talking to a mother and daughter. You were going over some results, before explaining that you would be bringing the mother upstairs shortly for inpatient care. Your demeanor was kind, but refined, shoulders set with an easy smile.

“Good evening, Dr. Abbot.” You said as you approached him.

He greeted you after a beat, subtly taking in your figure. “Would be better without all these boarders.”

You glanced at the board, “Truly, if this is how the other half lives, I’m good where I’m at.”

A wry grin formed, “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

You chuckled, “I think the dose I got on my med school rotation is good enough for a lifetime. I’m content just drifting through, on occasion.”

Me too, Jack thought before shaking it off, steeling his expression.

“You get used to it.” Jack said, tone light, “At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.”

Jack ignored the way Ellis looked over at him.

“Duly noted.” You said with a smile. “Can we go over my patient quickly? I’d like to get her upstairs.”

Jack nodded, moving closer to you to rattle off several things about your patient.

It was around that time Jack started taking sugar in his coffee. Just one packet, but it did not go unnoticed.

—

“Ah, Dr. Abbot, just the man I was looking for.” You said, walking over to the charge desk where he stood.

He looked from the board to you, eyebrow raised, “Don’t hear that often.”

You raised a challenging eyebrow in return, “Why’s that, do you think? Certainly would have nothing to do with your bedside manner, or that rugged charm? Perhaps the dry humor? No, certainly not.”

Shen barked a laugh beside him, before quickly covering it with an awkward cough.

Jack blinked, momentarily speechless. “I think it has something to do with…what did Dana’s daughter call it? My resting bitch face?”

You laughed, and the sound carried, making Jack’s heart squeeze.

“Maybe that’s it. I’d just call it ‘stoic and mysterious’. It works, for you.” You said, clearing your throat and glancing away from him as your cheeks heated. “Anyways, I was just coming to ask why you were admitting the patient in Central-5? EKG was clean, troponin test confirmed no heart attack, and you can monitor overnight down here.”

“Need the bed.” He supplied. “8/10 chest pain that comes and goes, shortness of breath, several risk factors like high cholesterol and triglycerides. CCU should take him.”

You hummed, looking over the chart again. “Alright, yeah, I’ll take him. I’ll follow up with his PCP in the morning to get more of a history. Thank you, Dr. Abbot.”

Jack nodded.

“Can you let Ms. Kelly know I’ll be back down shortly to bring her to gastro?”

He nodded again, “Course.”

You smiled brightly at him, “Thank you!”

—

Hours later, Jack had moved up to CCU to check on a patient. Something he never did. It was less so to check up on the patient, and more so to see you. He didn’t even remember the patient’s name, only their list of symptoms, their test results.

You had begun to occupy most of his thoughts, and he found himself looking for any excuse to talk with you. The bad breakroom coffee felt hot in his hands, two cups holding more weight than just liquid. He had no idea how you took your coffee — if you drank coffee — but he guessed you preferred it slightly sweet. He really hoped he was right.

Sat in a reserved corner of the seventh floor, you were charting — hands moving quickly over the keys, eyes focused.

“Hey,” Jack said softly, as to not startle you.

You turned your head, taking him in before you smiled.

“Wanted to check up on Mr…uh, and figured you might need this.” He offered you one of the cups.

You blinked, “Mr. Olsen? You wanted to check up on a patient?” You accepted the coffee, “Thank you, this was really nice of you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Was hoping I was being overly cautious and he didn’t actually have a heart attack.”

“It’s good you wanted to admit him, actually. I think he has GERD.” You said, taking a careful sip of the hot liquid, and a smile lit up your features when you swallowed, eyes flickering from the liquid and back to Jack.

Jack took a sip of his black coffee, nodding. “That makes sense, actually. Heartburn could’ve been what he was feeling.”

“I asked him about his diet, high-fat mostly. He had a spicy burrito for dinner, so yeah. GERD. Waiting for a consult, but he’s doing fine. I’ll have him follow up with a nutritionist and his PCP.”

“Good, that’s good.” He shifted his weight. “Looks like you’ll have all the glory, then.”

You laughed, “Hardly. You wanted to admit him…but we can share. 70/30?”

Jack smirked, “Closer to 60/40. I did order all those tests.”

You scoffed playfully, “I will go no lower than 65/45.”

“Deal.”

—

You came down into the Pitt with coffees in hand, eyes searching for a particular doctor — the one with hard, caring hazel eyes, salt and pepper curls, and a smile that made your heart race.

“He’s in Trauma-1,” said Ellis, hiding her smirk well. “I can let him know you stopped by?”

Your cheeks heated, “I can wait, I have two patients to check up on down here. They should have beds within the hour.”

Ellis nodded, “Look at you getting stuff done.”

“Heavy is the head…”

She chuckled.

Jack said your name in surprise, closing in on you. He took in the coffees and your smile.

You handed him one without ceremony, “Returning the favor.”

He accepted it graciously, ignoring how Shen and Ellis were smirking at him, taking a sip.

“Damn, they hide the good shit upstairs, huh?”

You cracked a grin, “It’s as if they play favorites.”

Jack put a hand over his heart and mocked offense, “You wound me. Are you saying I’m not your favorite?”

“I brought you the good shit, didn’t I?” You smirked, not missing a beat.

—

Jack called your work cell, glancing up at the board with one hand in his pocket. His shift was nearly over, but he had decided to call you after he had failed to see you for most of his shift.

“Thinking about admitting a patient to the cardiology,” he supplied lamely. “I know you can work magic with admissions.”

“You’re calling to ask for advice or for a favor?” You asked, “Or just so the Pitt can be graced with my wondrous presence right before shift change?”

“Can’t one doctor just call another?” A pause, “But can’t it be a bit of all of that?”

Your laugh was light and airy, “I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

True to your word, you arrived in under ten minutes.

“You could just page me next time.”

He shrugged, “Ruins the mystique.”

A sharp laugh escaped your throat that you covered with your hand. “I feel like it would add mystique, even though I hardly think you leave any for the rest of us.”

“You think I’ve got mystique?”

“Totally. I dig the whole ‘gritty ER doc bathed in mystery’ thing you’ve got going on.”

“Yeah?” He raised a challenging eyebrow. “So I shouldn’t ask you to dinner then?”

“No, no,” Your cheeks flamed. “I think you totally should. But only if you don’t think it’ll ruin your rough-edge reputation.”

“We should test it. You know, for science.”

You agreed easily, “For scientific purposes only.”

He matched your smirk.

[ more stuff with Jack Abbot ]

want to join any of my taglists? shoot me a message!

Dr. Abbot taglist: @flyinglama @valhallavalkyrie9 @melancholyy-hill @travelingmypassion @yournerdmodziata @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @sarah-the-bird-nerd @artsymaddie @partofthelouniverse @woodxtock @rachel2494

The Pitt taglist: @cannonindeez @spoiledflor @kittenhawkk @nessamc @thatchickwiththecamera @sharkluver @loud-mouph @ksyn-faith @sunfairyy @dragonsondragons @mischiefsemimanaged @pastelbunnelby @jetjuliette @that-one-fangirl69 @moonlightmvrvel @andabuttonnose @boldlyherdream

All: @nixandtonic

I really enjoyed this one, so I hope you did too!

[spaceyaemonds]

pairing: dr. jack abbot x reader

sum.: you meet a few of jack’s coworkers.

warnings: age gap (jack is late 40s, reader is 23), slightish angst?? just incase?? i don’t think it is but just incase, unplanned pregnancy, jack is divorced, not a widower, and it is mentioned that he previously did not want kids. minors DNI.

notes: okay so this is not what i had initially planned for this part, but i could not get what was supposed to be the second half of this to flow how i wanted so i am scrapping some of it and putting into part 6! also, there will definitely still be a lot of teasing and stuff said by the ED staff!!! i just didn’t know how to incorporate everyone here quite yet, but it’ll come! starting with part 6, they will be slightly longer pieces (but all less than 4-5k words) so we can get more into the drama of the story. in the next part, there will be slight angst (that was supposed to be here LOL, i’m sorry!) AND smut! i also have a few more drabbles for this universe that i hope to post this week, but parts 6 (and possibly 7) will be taking priority along with the schedule i posted yesterday. unedited. and as always, any feedback is extremely appreciated, it helps keep me motivated. especially reblogs/comments/asks!

wc: 1k

prev next

Unfortunately, immediately after getting off the phone with you and getting his keys to Dana, an ambulance pulls up with a trauma, which not only means he is probably not going to be able to see you, but you’re meeting Dana alone.

Which leaves you in your current situation, standing awkwardly in front of said nurse while she looks you over, studying you.

Of all the things she was expecting when Jack Abbot told him a girl was coming to pick up his keys and drop hers off, you are not at all what her brain came up with.

Not that there’s anything wrong with you, except for the fact you look a little young for Jack. But she definitely didn’t imagine you.

“So, you’re borrowing Jack’s truck?” Her tone is friendly when she asks.

She seems nice, but she makes you nervous. Being here makes you nervous. You don’t know what Jack has or hasn’t told his coworkers about you or this situation.

You nod, a small smile on your face despite your discomfort, “Um, yes. I’m buying a new desk and my car is too small to get it home,”

She nods politely, “Are you neighbors?”

She knows the answer, that you are definitely not neighbors, but she’s curious about what you’ll say.

You bite your lip, “Uh, something like that?”

She raises her eyebrow at the way you word your answer as a question, but before she can speak up, Samira says your name.

She’s smiling brightly, “I thought that was you! Are you doing okay?,”

You smile back at her, “I’m good,”

“How’s the baby?”

You freeze, glancing at Dana out of the corner of your eye, praying to god that she doesn’t put it together.

Dana’s brows raise to her hairline, looking between you and Samira, and then briefly glancing at trauma two. No fucking way.

“Um, good- great actually. Just a little grape in there,” You chuckle, gesturing to your abdomen before turning to Dana, digging your keys out of your purse and clipping the key to your apartment off the chain.

“Anyway, um, can you just make sure Jack gets these, please?”

Dana nods, “You sure you don’t wanna try and wait for him?”

You look between her and Samira, a slightly anxious look in your eyes, “Yeah, no. He’s gonna be by later anyway so I’ll just see him then,”

You wince, why the fuck did you say that?

That causes Dana to smirk, “He’ll be over later,”

“Yeah, well I mean, maybe. He’ll have to get his truck back at some point. Probably tonight, but I mean who knows, ya know?”

In the midst of your rambling, you don’t realize Jack has finally wrapped up his case and is standing right behind you.

“What are you going on about?”

You about jump out of your skin, “Oh my god!” Your hand is on your chest as you take a deep breath, dramatically trying to calm yourself down, “You scared me,”

He laughs with a cheeky shrug, mumbling a small sorry as he squeezes your shoulder gently before taking your keys from Dana. He bites back a laugh at the lip gloss attached to your keychain, “You aren’t gonna need that?”

You smile, the anxious feeling finally leaving you, “No, I have a few in my purse.”

Jack briefly catches Dana’s eye as he places his hand on your shoulders and guides you out of the ED, her eyebrows are raised in question, glancing between the two of you. He shakes his head at her and mouths later and continues walking you to where he’s parked, not realizing the storm he’s started up at the nurses station.

“Now, don’t go lifting this desk by yourself or anything like that. It’s not good for you or the baby,”

You glance up at him, “I already places the order for it, they’re just going to put it in the truck when I’m ready and a neighbor said he could get his son and they can bring it up for me,”

He tries not to bristle at the mention of your neighbor that he hasn’t met yet.

“Alright, well I can help you get it put together tonight and make sure your equipment gets all set up.”

His offer makes you smile brightly at him, “Are you sure? I know you’ll be tired after working,”

He shakes his head, “I wouldn’t offer if I couldn’t do it, honey.”

There’s that name again. You love it when he calls you that, it makes you feel warm inside.

He bites back a smirk as he watches you squirm, already knowing you well enough to know your cheeks feel hot.

“Well, if you insist. I’ll have dinner and beer ready when you get to my place,”

“You sure know the way to a man’s heart, honey.”

“Just yours, anyway,” You don’t give him time to respond, leaving quickly and not even realizing the impact your words just had on him.

When he gets back inside, Dana is giving him a side eye, and try as he might, he just can’t ignore it.

“Just say what you need to say,”

Dana hums, “She’s young,”

Jack sighs, running a hand down his face before scratching at his jaw, “Yeah,”

“She pregnant?”

There’s no judgment in her question, she watches silently as he pulls out his wallet to hand her the photo of your ultrasound.

“Yeah, ten weeks.”

She sighs softly, looking at the baby, “Yours?”

Jack just grunts in response. Not sure what to say or how to say it.

Dana puts a hand on his arm, squeezing softly, “I thought you didn’t want kids?”

He closes his eyes, “I didn’t. This wasn’t exactly planned. But I’m taking responsibility for this, for her,”

“Does she want you to take responsibility for her?” Dana’s question is valid, and Jack knows that.

“I told her I wouldn’t abandon her. And I won’t.”

“You’re a good man, Jack,” She gives his arm one final squeeze before pulling her hand away, “She seems nice,”

He smiles, “Yeah, she is. Real fucking smart too. And funny,”

Dana feels her chest squeeze at how Jack looks when he talks about you, unable to recall if he’s ever been this way before.

They sit in silence for a few moments before glancing up at Robby when he makes his way up, devilish glint in his eyes.

Jack sighs, already knowing what’s coming.

“I didn’t realize your babies mom is in her twenties, Jack,”

“You mad I got more game than you or something?”

Robby laughs, “Is that what we’re calling it?”

[valeisaslut]

do either of them have beef with anyone else in the industry either secretly or very publicly lol

oh you want drama. buckle up.

COLLIDE POPSTAR!READER X ROCKSTAR!ELLIE BEEFS LMAO

you and ellie? you’re literally drama magnets. two beautiful, very deranged celestial bodies orbiting the same flaming sun of pettiness. you can try to be normal. you try to play nice. but it’s in your blood.

ellie’s public beefs:

⭑.ᐟ first of all. donald trump. legendary. iconic. HISTORIC beef. back when the fireflies were first exploding, trump randomly decided to tweet, “i don’t get this ‘ellie williams’ noise. very sad!” and ellie, from her green room mid-tour, tweeted:

“damn. didn’t know hell had wifi. eat my mf strap.”

32.3 million likes. someone screen-printed it onto a shirt. "eat my mf strap" became an iconic quote for the lesbian community. the white house official account blocked her. she framed the tweet and hung it in her LA apartment above some grammys.

⭑.ᐟ then there’s machine gun kelly. he tried to flirt with her once at a fashion week afterparty, and she looked him dead in the eye and said, “i'd rather fuck a broken amp.” he blocked her immediately. she’s still proud. she brings it up unprompted at least once a month.

⭑.ᐟ she also has serious beef with shawn mendes. no one knows why. literally no one. she just refuses to be in the same room as him. if you ask her why, she’ll shrug and say: "his aura is suspicious." dina thinks it’s hilarious. jesse once laughed so hard ellie threatened to kick him out of the band.

⭑.ᐟ with spotify....? they removed her from one curated playlist. she mailed them a written letter that said, simply: "eat shit." they framed it and hung it in the New York office. she's now technically "banned" from the headquarters but still uses her premium account like a menace.

⭑.ᐟ adam levine. he once said that "bands are dead" in an interview and she just responded with a photo of the Fireflies headlining Lollapalooza in front of 80k people. captioned it "damn. missed the funeral."

⭑.ᐟ kanye west. listen. she never said anything directly. but once during a show in chicago, she did a rock cover of Gold Digger and changed the lyrics to: "i ain’t messin’ with no nazi bitch.". went extremely viral. never mentioned it again.

⭑.ᐟ sometimes she will just randomly unfollow and refollow people to cause chaos. in 2023 she unfollowed like half of the Grammy performers and then posted "just had to cleanse my aura real quick" on her story. so mf uncalled for.

your (reader’s) beefs:

you? oh, you are so scary when you want to be. the QUEEN of passive aggressive beef.

⭑.ᐟ you once had a fake-nice beef with a former disney star turned influencer who kept posting those “some of us don’t need features to chart 🧘‍♀️” captions. you responded by dropping a deluxe edition of your album featuring three collabs and an orchestral version and a remix and charted every single one. captioned your post: “thankful for my friends 💕.”people caught on immediately. there were think pieces.

⭑.ᐟ you once got asked to collab with a rapper known for being homophobic (da baby) and you very publicly turned it down by posting an instagram story that said: "i’d rather eat thumbtacks. respectfully."

⭑.ᐟ katy perry said something vaguely homophobic ab you on a podcast once, and when asked about it in an interview, you smiled so sweetly and said, “i thought she was opening a shoe store? i support small businesses tho.” the interviewer had to excuse themselves to laugh.

⭑.ᐟ you hate perez hilton. it’s no secret. once he tried to bait you into drama by tweeting “pop princess y/n getting a little too wild lately?” and you quote-tweeted him with: "who let you out of the nursing home."

⭑.ᐟ your most lowkey beef is with a famous country singer who said “i don’t think pop stars are real musicians.” you have never once acknowledged it publicly. but at your next show you covered Jolene and changed the lyrics to make it about stealing his girlfriend. people understood.

⭑.ᐟ you once got kinda shaded by an "edgy" alt-pop girl for your tour costumes being "too theatrical," so at your next show, you entered the stage in a 40-pound diamond-studded corset on a chariot. you didn’t break character once. the videos are still trending on stan twitter.

⭑.ᐟ GQ photoshopped your waist in a cover shoot without telling you. so you, being the legend you are, posted the raw, unedited pics on instagram with the caption: "i like my waist the way it fucking is. thanks." simple. lethal. a cultural reset.

ellie, naturally, saw it and went absolutely feral in the gq comment section. no emojis. no punctuation. just pure threat: "touch her again and i’m burning your mf offices down"

and privately? you both absolutely despise a HANDFUL of people. yall even keep a list. it’s literally like a famous people burn book. you’re planning to leak it someday just for the drama.

but yeah. despite the occasional beef, the truth is: you two are untouchable. you're the biggest thing in music right now. everyone either wants to collab with you or be you. labels want you, fans worship you. and when you do get hated on, it's so clearly jealousy that you don't even have to respond. you just post a blurry pic kissing ellie backstage and it gets 20M likes overnight.

[sofa-king-lame]

It's Freaking Me Out That You're Not Freaking Out

Guys, ADHD meds are fucking life changing. I'm 1k into writing my next big fic (already titled Wake Up, Sunshine. Secret musician Eddie 👀) AND while listening to All Time Low to get more inspo for songs for THAT fic I was inspired to write this drabble after hearing the lyric the fic is titled after. This fic ignores 8x15 lol. Did not happen here.

Inspired by the song 'Calm Down' by All Time Low

Also on ao3 right here

--

It was the fourth beer, Buck decides, that’s to blame for this. The dishwasher is running, a little louder and clunkier than it should (a problem for tomorrow). The non-dishwasher safe dishes as drying on the rack next to the sink, Eddie claiming they can air dry overnight. Christopher is asleep, and Buck is now three and a half beers deep. Eddie and Chris been home for two weeks, and as happy as Buck is to have them back he also feels like he’s losing his mind a little. He keeps catching Eddie looking at him, soft glances and warm smiles that Buck doesn’t know what to do with. So he keeps himself busy. He thinks he’s deep cleaned the bathroom five times in the last week alone, every cushion cover and sheet set in the house has been soaked and washed, and the fridge and freezer are full of enough meals to feed the three of them for at least a month.

“I think it’s clean now,” Eddie tells him quietly, tilting his head to the side as Buck wipes the counter down for the third time.

“Right,” Buck huffs. “Yeah.”

“You okay? You’ve been weird lately,” Eddie muses, taking a step towards him. Buck has to consciously not back up because he’s never done that when Eddie is near him and apparently Eddie has already picked up on his anxious energy.

“Y-yeah, I just,” Buck sighs, gulping down the rest of his beer to try to find the right words to say. He doesn’t find them at the bottom of the bottle, but what he does find is the courage to be a total fucking idiot. He puts his empty bottle down and closes the remaining distance between him and Eddie, grabbing his face with both hands and drawing him into a kiss that blasts past the platonic line they’ve been toeing in their friendship from day one.

“Mmph,” is Eddie’s muffled response, his hands flailing a little before landing on Buck’s hips as he sighs into the kiss. A particularly concerning thunk from the dishwasher startles Buck out of his stupor and he jerks back, eyes wide and fingers on his lips. What the fuck did he just do?

“Oh god,” he whispers, “oh fuck Eddie, I’m so sorry.”

“Buck,” Eddie chuckles, “it’s -”

“Oh fuck, fuck, Eddie -”

“Buck,” Eddie interrupts, but Buck can barely hear him over the rushing in his head. His hands are shaking and his heart is beating alarmingly fast, and Eddie - is totally calm.

“You’re not freaking out,” Buck says, gasping to catch his breath.

“Nope,” Eddie replies, totally calm. Why is he so calm.

“Why aren’t you freaking out?” Buck asks hysterically. “It’s freaking me out that you’re not freaking out!”

“Well,” Eddie hums, hands finding their place on Buck’s hips again. “I’ve been trying to build up the confidence to do that since I got home. So thank you for taking that off my plate. You’re good at that, you know.”

“Good at - kissing you?” Buck breathes, his shaking slowing to a tremor.

“No - well, yes,” Eddie snorts. “That, yes. But I meant you’re good at figuring out what I need before I even know what I need. So, thank you.”

“Oh. Uh. You’re welcome?” Buck offers uncertainly. “Wait, h-hang on. Did you just say you’ve been wanting to do that since you got home?”

“No, I said I’ve been trying to find the confidence to do it since I got home,” Eddie corrects gently, leaning in to press their foreheads together. Buck glances down and sees that Eddie’s up on his toes a little, and he’s not sure why it’s that visual that does it for him but it is. Buck leans in and kisses him again, which is difficult because Eddie won’t stop smiling.

“So, uh. H-how long have you been wanting to do that?” Buck questions when they break for air.

“Consciously? Since I drove away from you with that fucking U-Haul,” Eddie admits. “Subconsciously? Years, probably.”

“Oh,” Buck replies faintly. “Okay. Uh. Same for me, actually.”

“We always did have a freaky codependency thing going on,” Eddie laughs, brushing their noses together. “Wanna keep it up for the rest of our lives?”

“Fuck yeah,” Buck enthuses, unable to keep his lips off Eddie as they make their way to the bedroom. It was the fourth beer, Buck decides, that’s to thank for this.

--

Tags under the cut. As usual, if you'd like to be added to or removed from my tag list please let me know.

@playinginthunderstorms @inbucksbusiness @elvensorceress @singitforthegirls @sonofatoasterwaffle  

@wrongfulruffian @crose84 @carolinahope @heartsfromeden @shealwaysreads  

@lookforanewangle @eddiedisasterdiaz @my-brain-soup @mari-lwyd-crytid-blog @mattsire   

@oddgreyhound @namesnamesandmorenames @a--a---a @diazpatcher @sassay-fox @sazanahashi

@aphantasias 

[fratboykate]

ANOTHER BABY?! What does the world's most famous woman look like with three kids?

Not EXACTLY but...here's 4k of gross domestic fluff lol

---

They don’t tell anyone Kate’s pregnant.

Not Kate’s reps. Not their friends. Not even the publicist.

They just vanish. Two suitcases per head, two kids in tow, a private jet funded from Yelena’s paranoid worst-case-scenario stash, and a villa in the south of France where the only neighbors are an old couple who run a semi-abandoned vineyard and a flock of sheep who’ve claimed the field next door. The girls are partial to the chunky one with a single eye.

Kate doesn’t post. Yelena hasn’t opened social media since they got back together. Their phones sit unanswered except for Melina, Alexei, and one emergency line routed through Kate's agent, who was only told, "We're fine. Just taking some time off."

And they are. For the first time in their lives, they actually are.

The villa is three hours from anywhere with a name they recognize. Red-tile roof. Ivy-clad stone walls. Ten-foot gates and a view that swells out over vineyards and wildflower fields. The floors are cool tile. The air smells like rosemary, salt, and the ghost of distant rain. It’s all wraparound windows, thick wooden beams, and doors that seem to outnumber the rooms.

Ellie keeps getting lost. Mila learned how to work the latches in twenty-four hours…turning every door into a security hazard and making Yelena both ferociously proud and perpetually stressed.

The pregnancy stuck early. First transfer, first try. Maybe Kate’s uterus remembered what to do this time. Maybe the universe owed them one. Or maybe…just maybe…Kate’s body started cooperating once she stopped asking it to survive a shoot, red carpets, or fake a smile for a hundred and fifty million Instagram followers dissecting whether her ring had moved one millimeter to the left or not.

There’s no announcement this time. No People Magazine spread. No strategically timed airport pap shot. No designer couture hugging a curated bump. This one isn’t for anyone but them. By the time the outside world notices, the baby will already be here. A secret. A surprise. A thing fiercely, selfishly, theirs.

Kate never thought she’d want that. She does now. The quiet. The invisibility. The permission to have one thing that’s just For Kate. At least for a little while.

No press cycle. No screaming fans. No long lenses on street-corners. Just morning nausea, sticky toddler kisses, and a kitchen that opens onto a courtyard full of lavender, where Ellie insists the butterflies know her personally.

A private doctor makes housecalls. A doula will move into the guesthouse once Kate’s due date is imminent. A private chef cooks dinner four nights out of seven and spends the other three sending up meals with handwritten instructions and a wink. She leaves dessert whether they ask for it or not.

Ellie names every sheep. Mila tries to eat grass. Neither speaks a word of French and both are thriving.

Yelena wakes up first. Every day. She makes the coffee. Walks barefoot across the stone floors in those tight little t-shirts that send Kate’s pregnancy libido into a tailspin. She reads the news, only opens emails flagged ‘urgent’, and flips chocolate-chip pancakes shaped like stars. Mila always devours four. Ellie always demands her syrup be served in a ramekin like she’s minor royalty. Yelena is more than happy to oblige to any and all requests.

//

The first few weeks are rougher than Kate hoped. Worse than Ellie. Even worse than Mila, somehow. She thought it’d be easier on her after that.

The nausea is relentless. Her chest aches. She cries during a dish soap ad, then again when Yelena brings the wrong brand of crackers. The hormones are savage. The fatigue even worse. For the first few months, she’s asleep more than she’s awake.

Mila’s still half a baby herself, barely walking, which means constant carrying, constant lifting, constant aching. Kate's back screams before they even hit week ten.

But Yelena handles everything. Meals. Diapers. Mila’s chaotic sleep regressions. She lets Kate melt into the couch or the bed or the bath, wherever she lands, and only says: "Drink something" or "Don't fall asleep in the tub."

This belly pops faster too. It’s a good thing they got away. It would’ve been impossible to hide for long. The others lingered in that awkward "maybe bloated?” phase. Not this one. Yelena, who always claimed she could tell, doesn't have to pretend this time. From very early on, she gets to place her hand on the very undeniable swell of Kate’s stomach every night. Doesn't always speak. Doesn’t have to.

The nausea fades, finally, weeks after they arrive at the villa. The light at the end of the tunnel flickers into view.

//

Kate sleeps less now. After getting her ass kicked by the first trimester, the second hits like a breath of cool air.

She can eat again. Move again. Function again. She’s still tired, bone-deep, but she can laugh without vomiting. She’s counting that as a win.

Just like her belly popped much faster, her body changes faster than it ever did before. The bump rounds out almost overnight. The stretch marks bloom early. She lets Yelena rub oil into the skin. Lets Ellie kiss her midriff any time she wants. Which is often. Lets Mila nap against the curve of her hip like there’s nowhere else in the world she could possibly belong.

Afternoons stretch lazy and wide. They lie in the grass. Ellie tells stories that make no sense. Mila throws petals like confetti. Yelena sprawls behind Kate, hand splayed over her torso, murmuring nonsense in Russian to the baby like she’s already here. Kate can feel her ribs pressing into Yelena’s thighs. Everything is warm.

The house hums with a kind of quiet joy they’ve never had room for before. Shocking, what happens when you put the phones down. Shut the world out. Choose each other.

Sometimes, Kate cooks. She unfaillingly burns at least one thing.

It’s chaos. Yelena usually ends up stepping in to rescue the stove from disaster with terrifying efficiency while Mila screeches with laughter and Ellie belts out Disney songs into a wooden spoon.

One night, the power cuts in a storm. They light candles. Play cards. Mila scales Yelena like a jungle gym. Ellie curls up in Kate’s lap and hums the baby a lullaby she’s been practicing. Kate cries halfway through and no one makes fun of her.

They don’t talk about the outside world. No red carpets. No interviews. No "just one" fan photo. It’s just them. Just this.

Kate never thought she could live like this…locked in a house for months with the same three people without at least one person leaving in a body bag… but they’re hers. And she wouldn’t change them for anything.

Yelena talks to the baby every night. Sometimes nonsense. Sometimes fierce promises. Sometimes she just rests her forehead against Kate’s belly and whispers things Kate isn’t meant to hear. More often than not, Kate simply pretends she doesn’t.

“You have no idea how lucky you are,” Yelena murmurs once. Kate has to give her best performance yet and act like the book she’s reading is an absolute tragedy to justify the tears.

But it wasn’t the book. And Kate fully believes she’s maybe the luckiest one of them all.

//

The light here is different. Softer. Filters in slower. It doesn’t rush. Just glows.

Kate pads into the kitchen barefoot, loose sweatpants slung low on her hips, one of Yelena’s button-downs bunched over the belly. The bump curves round and undeniable against the thin cotton, too big for how far along she actually is. She moves sluggish. Still randomly queasy at times. But mostly functional.

She steps over a stack of Mila’s blocks and a decapitated stuffed giraffe bandaged with ribbon to find Yelena already at the stove. Back to her. Hair in a lopsided braid. Definitely Ellie’s handiwork. Yelena flips something in a pan that smells vaguely like sugary fruit and bad decisions.

Kate creeps up behind her, hooks her arms around Yelena’s waist, and presses her face between her shoulder blades.

“Can I bribe you away from that stove to come fuck me before they get out here?”

“Unlikely.”

“They’re still half asleep.”

“Eleanor is very much awake.”

Kate kisses her spine. “That’s not a ‘yes’.”

“It wasn’t intended as one.”

From the living room: a crash. Then a muffled, “I okay!” followed by Ellie’s tiny maniacal giggling.

“See? Awake.” Yelena adds.

“That sounded expensive,” Kate mutters into her back.

“Probably was.”

Kate whines.

“What was the point of kidnapping you to a secluded location if you won’t have your way with me whenever I’m dripping?”

“Don’t think ‘sexscapade’ was the vibe we were going for when we decided to bring the two infants.”

“You must’ve missed that memo then. I’ll resend it.”

Yelena chuckles. Flips the pan with noteworthy skill. Kate squeezes her tighter.

“I don’t know what else I could possibly do about your…situation.”

“I just told you. And you declined. Didn't even offer a finger to your desperate wife in need.”

Yelena laughs.

“They’re awake!” Yelena protests. “I’d very much offer more than basic services if they weren’t.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“More than happy to keep them entertained while you address the dilemma.”

“YOU are who I want to handle my ‘dilemma’.” Kate drops into a mocking impression, teasing. “‘Let’s have a baby, Kate. It'll be great, Kate.’ Now she won’t even fuck me."

Yelena turns, eyebrows arched.

“There hasn't been a single day since we got here that we haven't had sex. Most days more than once.”

“Yeah, well…” Kate gestures dramatically at herself. “…the situation in my underwear proves it's clearly not enough.”

“If you wait until nap time,” Yelena smirks, “I’ll take care of it.”

“They JUST woke up. Nap time is a lifetime away.”

Yelena shrugs. Unbothered.

“Then go. I'll keep them out of the bedroom.”

“I hate this.”

Yelena chuckles. Kate groans theatrically and peels away to open the fridge. Stares inside. Immediately forgets why she came. Slams it shut.

“God, this baby hates cold air. My nipples could cut glass.”

Yelena turns, takes a peak at the two shapes barely poking through her shirt. Smirks. Deeply unfair.

“They look perfectly healthy to me.”

Kate flips her off without heat. Yelena plates whatever was in the pan. Some absurdly bougie combination of mushrooms, toast, and soft eggs. Sets it in front of Kate.

Kate lowers herself into a chair like an eighty-year-old woman, groaning all the way down. Yelena kisses the top of her head and disappears towards the chaos beyond with two small plastic plates.

Kate stares at the food. Takes three bites. Then leans back, exhausted. Her body temperamental. Her stomach unpredictable.

Footsteps pad closer. Small ones. Ellie stands there, clutching a coloring book and a single pink crayon.

“I sit?”

Kate cracks an eye.

“Course you can, baby.”

Ellie climbs into her lap like she was always meant to be there. She opens her book. Colors with laser focus. Tongue poking out, brows furrowed.

“You ready to do your chores this morning?” Kate asks.

Ellie nods, smug. “Feed the sheep.”

“Even the mean one?”

“Yah.”

“Just like your mama.” Kate grins.

“Mama mean,” Ellie says gravely.

Yelena reappears at the doorway, deadpan. Two plates still in hand. It’s going to be That kind of day, apparently.

“I heard that.”

“She’s not wrong.” Kate retorts with a grin.

Mila barrels in after Yelena. Arms out, curls wild, no clothes, just the fresh diaper Yelena strapped on her minutes ago. She beelines for Kate’s like she’s got a homing beacon.

Kate catches her mid-sprint.

“Oof,” Kate groans, adjusting the two girls now on her lap. “Belly, baby. Mind the bump.”

Mila plants both hands on Kate’s stomach like she’s claiming it. Then rests her head there, humming gibberish.

Kate starts feeding the girls off her plate while Yelena chows down hers.

They sit there like that. Nothing urgent to attend to. Clinking forks. Toddler giggles. Mila blowing raspberries against Kate’s belly. Yelena pretending not to smile every time Ellie makes a face at her breakfast.

This is the part they never had before. No nanny behind the scenes. No assistant fielding calls. No schedule carved down to the second. Just this.

A long morning. A dumb drawing. A shitty bra that doesn’t fit anymore. And Kate’s hand curved protectively over the curve of her belly like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

//

It’s raining. Not hard. Just enough to fog the windows. Yelena’s already in bed. Hair damp from the bath. Reading something thick and aggressively Russian. Glasses slightly crooked.

Kate wanders in with a toothbrush hanging from her mouth. Long sweater. Panties. Nothing else. She tosses her traitorous bra onto the chair.

“I think I’m leaking.”

“What part of your body?”

Kate gestures to her left boob.

“She’s just…leaking. Randomly. For no reason. You’d think she’d wait for the actual child.”

“Sensitive nipples. I’ll mark it in the notes.”

Yelena reaches for her phone. Kate collapses onto the bed, groaning.

“You’re not keeping notes.”

“I’m literally keeping notes. Why wouldn’t I keep notes? Things to mention during the next visit.” Yelena types without looking up.

Kate turns her face into Yelena’s thigh, voice muffled by cotton.

“Thank you for hiding me.”

Yelena doesn’t answer right away. Just threads her fingers through Kate’s hair. Gentle. Rhythmic.

“Thank you for bringing me to hide with you.”

Kate hums. Mila cries out down the hall. Once. Then silence. Kate sighs.

“Think she’ll remember any of this?”

“No.”

“Ellie?”

Yelena pauses.

“Maybe. She might remember the pool. The pancakes. The sheep with the broken horn.”

Kate closes her eyes.

“Good.”

The rain thrums deeper against the roof. Kate rests her cheek on Yelena’s toned abs, breathes her in.

"You think she'll be like them?" Kate whispers.

“I love how you’ve just never considered it could be a boy.”

Kate grins against her skin.

“Because it’s not."

"Definitely not." Yelena snorts.

"You didn’t answer my question."

"No two are the same," Yelena adds simply.

Kate shifts, rests her chin on her hand. Looks up at Yelena who does her best to keep reading while Kate rambles.

"I hope she’s quiet."

"She won’t be."

"I hope she sleeps."

"She won’t."

"I hope she’s sweet and calm and low-maintenance."

"She won't be. She’s ours."

Kate laughs, exhausted.

"We're so fucked."

Yelena lowers her book.

"That's the point.”

Kate reaches for her hand. Laces their fingers.

"You can fuck me now," Kate murmurs.

"I was planning on it."

//

It’s late morning. The sun’s barely crested the trees.

Kate lounges on the terrace, Mila sprawled across her lap, legs stretched out on the lounger. Mila is messy-cheeked, diapered, bare except for the dried apricot glued to her thigh and the rogue marker streak on her chin.

Kate doesn’t care. She holds her close, pressing kisses to her curls. Mila hums something tuneless against her chest, heavy and warm and so devastatingly alive.

Ellie’s at the little table they dragged outside, feet swinging, tongue poking out while she concentrates on coloring. She treats it like sacred work. There are three sheep grazing the field below, each meticulously named after supposed cartoon characters neither Kate nor Yelena have ever heard of.

“Can we has sheep, Mommy?” Ellie asks without looking up.

“No,” Kate says gently.

“Why not?”

“We live in a city.”

Ellie pauses, thinking hard. Looks around the rolling fields like she’s about to argue case law.

“Not now.”

Kate opens her mouth, then closes it again.

“That’s…technically true.”

Yelena steps outside carrying two coffee mugs. Hers black, Kate’s decaf. She sets them down, eyeing Kate warily. She knows there’s a fifty/fifty chance the contents of that cup trigger an argument. It's a risk she's always willing to take.

“What’s on the agenda for today?” Yelena asks.

“Your daughter wants to buy livestock.”

“I pray you said no.”

“I did.”

“Miracles do happen.”

Kate tilts her head back and lets the sun kiss her face.

“Your littlest daughter says she needs waffles. Crispy. Eggs. Fried. Some spinach.”

“Your daughter sounds very demanding.”

“She’s your daughter too. And she’s explicitly told me she loves it when you cook for her.”

“Mama, up.” Mila extends her arms at Yelena.

Yelena raises an eyebrow, scoops Mila off Kate’s lap and hoists her onto her hip.

“Come on, bug. We’re your mother’s private chefs now.”

“‘Gain?” Mila asks, wiping apricot gunk on Yelena’s once spotless shirt.

“Always again.”

Kate watches them disappear into the house, chest aching in the best kind of way. The way that comes from being too full, not too empty. Like her body doesn’t know what to do with so much good.

Ellie colors quietly. The sheep wander. Everything hums with a lazy, relentless softness.

“Mommy?” Ellie asks after a while. “When baby come?”

“Not for a while.”

“Before Christmas?”

“Hopefully before.”

“I name her,” Ellie declares.

Kate grins. “Too late. I already negotiated those rights. I’d tell you, but your secret-keeping record is abysmal.”

Ellie shrugs like this means nothing to her and returns to coloring. Kate sips her decaf, grimaces at the betrayal, and yells toward the house.

“I BETTER GET ACTUAL COFFEE WITH MY BREAKFAST!”

“You had coffee yesterday!” Yelena’s voice fires back.

Kate gently nudges Ellie with her foot.

“Please go tell Mama I’m going to end up on some watchlist if she doesn’t send real coffee immediately.”

“‘kay.”

Ellie jumps up, starts to head inside. Kate pulls her in as she passes her, peppering her cheek with kisses as the almost three-year-old giggles. Once the little girl manages to squirm away, Kate nudges her inside then watches her vanish down the hallway. She rests both hands on her belly.

“I hope you’re ready for the madhouse, Natty girl,” she murmurs. “I hope you’re ready.”

Somewhere in the kitchen, Mila is probably smearing chocolate chips across Yelena’s shirt while Ellie tries and fails to deliver Kate’s caffeine ultimatum with the right degree of threat. And Kate…Kate has never been happier to be nowhere, doing nothing, with exactly these people.

//

Screaming echoes through the house. Not panicked. Not fear. Worse. Toddler outrage. That stubborn, disgruntled sound coming from a little person who has decided the bath is lava and the pajamas her parents picked are offensive.

Mila is red-faced and FURIOUS. Soaking wet and naked. Clutching mismatched socks in her little balled up fists like they’re a constitutional right. She shrieks on the tile floor while Kate kneels on the folded towel by the tub, trying not to cry. Her belly’s uncomfortably big. Her back is screaming. Her ribs are tight. Her hair’s wet. Her shirt’s wet. Her soul might be wet.

Yelena, conveniently, is nowhere in sight.

“Please,” Kate pleads with the almost two-year-old, desperate. “Just…pick a shirt. Literally any shirt.” Kate offers options. Farm animals. Rainbows. Planets. A plain one. Mila bats them all away as if repugnant. “You want my shirt? I’ll take your sister’s shirt off her right now if you want it.”

“NOOOO!” Mila shrieks, hurling a sock like a grenade.

Kate sighs, hand on her lower back, head thunking against the tub.

“I was so happy being single,” she mutters.

From the doorway: “I’ll remember that next time you tell me you love me.”

Kate glares up. Yelena leans against the doorframe, lazily sipping from a water bottle, doing absolutely nothing to intervene. Her braid’s fuzzy. She’s in sweatpants. And looks unfairly composed. Very much pretending like she hasn’t been hiding from…This…for the past ten minutes.

“Your child…” Kate hisses. “Your child is staging a textile rebellion.”

“We talked about the farm pajamas being itchy.”

“I’ve offered her literally everything else, Yelena.” Kate growls through her teeth, annoyed. “And she loved the farm pajamas yesterday.”

“She evolves…She’s sentient now. Quite unfortunate for us.”

Yelena finally strolls in, crouches, and scoops a disgruntled Mila up with terrifying ease. She burritos the baby in a towel and perches her on the changing table like it’s nothing. Mila wriggles and wails. Yelena holds her with one arm while managing to get a diaper on her with the other with seemingly little effort.

Kate watches, bitter and amazed.

“Go sit down…I got her.” Yelena throws over her shoulder, brushing Mila’s wet hair back.

“I am sitting.”

“Go sit down somewhere where you won’t rupture a disc.”

Kate huffs, shoves herself upright, and waddles away, muttering under her breath about moving out and taking all the sheep with her.

//

The doula arrives fifteen minutes later with a canvas tote full of terrifyingly labeled oils and a binder thicker than every baby book Kate’s ever thrown away.

Her name is Sabine. She smells like peppermint. She moves through the villa like she’s taking inventory.

Kate can never decide if she wants to hug her or trip her on the way out.

They sit on the couch while Yelena wrangles nap time. Somewhere else. Mila babbles. Ellie narrates stories to her sister in a fake accent. There are thumps. There’s shrieking. There’s an unmistakable splat sound followed by an “oops!”. Kate pretends she hears none of it.

“So,” Sabine says cheerfully with her thick French inflection, flipping open the binder. “We are in the end, yes? Thirty-five weeks?”

“Give or take.” Kate nods.

“Any new symptoms?”

Kate groans, readjusts.

“Not new. Just…worse. I’m tired. My pelvis sounds like a haunted door. I can’t sleep. Everything I eat gives me heartburn. The baby thinks my bladder is a trampoline. Oh…and last night I thought I was going into labor. It was gas.”

Sabine smiles serenely like this is all normal.

“That sounds okay.”

“Super.”

“How is your support system?”

Kate tilts her head down the hallway where Yelena is presumably bribing a toddler into unconsciousness.

“YOU SAID TWO BOOKS!” Ellie argues, firm.

“Loud. Aggressively competent. A little scary.” Kate smiles despite herself.

“Perfect.” Sabine beams.

They go over the birth plan. Low lights. Warm tub. Yelena by her side. Sabine there just in case anything goes wrong. Ellie allowed to peek once it’s over. Mila quarantined and kept as far away as possible. The last thing Kate needs is to get touched out during labor.

Everyone will be on call starting next week. The house stocked. The generator tested. The freezer full.

They’re ready. Kate is not.

//

Later that night, in bed.

The room is dark except for the soft glow of a lamp. The windows are cracked open. Kate catches whiffs of rain and grass when the wind blows just right. Mila’s sleep machine hums down the hall.

Yelena is propped on one elbow, brushing her fingers over the stretched skin of Kate’s belly. The baby kicks under her hand, and Kate winces. Nudges the little foot back down.

“I think today was her officially application to be my next stunt coordinator.” Kate grimaces, closes her eyes. “She’s trying to escape through my spine.”

“She’s strong.”

“She’s violent.”

Yelena hums. Doesn’t argue. The baby kicks hard against her ribs. Kate groans. Yelena just smiles, smoothing her palm over the curve of the stomach like she’s imprinting it into her bones. Like she’s mapping something sacred.

“You were amazing today.”

Kate scoffs.

“Which part? The weeping? The begging? The shampoo bottle throwing?”

“All of it.”

Kate snorts. Yelena presses a kiss just above Kate’s navel, soft and sure. Kate’s throat goes tight.

Quiet takes over. No city noise. No cars. Just wind and Yelena’s breath and the sound of Kate’s own body being lived in.

“We’re so close,” Kate whispers.

“I know.”

“I can’t believe it’s almost over.”

“It’s not.” Yelena meets her eyes. “It’s about to begin again.”

Kate groans and shoves at her shoulder.

“That was so cheesy. Go to hell.”

Yelena laughs, low and indulgent.

“You love it…Are you going to tell me her name yet?”

Kate doesn’t answer. Just reaches for her. Pulls her in close. Lets herself feel full and heavy and grounded. She melts against Yelena, hand drifting lazily down to cup her bump.

This time was supposed to be just for them. It is.

And it’s perfect.

[queenerdloser]

second letter writer just started submitting their letters to my schools. omfg. now i'm just waiting on follow-up from my third one who said she'd have time to finish in the second half of the month... fingers crossed that doesnt fall through if it does im very fucked lol.

[guinevereslancelot]

i love christmas yet i'm dreading it bc i can never stop spending soo much money i do not have on little gifts for my friends and family 🥲

[woundedheartwithin]

Back on my meds, making a damn decent paycheck despite how many days I had to take off this month, my mom’s feeling better now that she’s home and we’ve figured everything out, our neighbor’s gonna build us a wheelchair ramp for cheap, and my dad miiiiiiiiight be buying a new car as we speak 🤞 (my mom just can’t get into the truck anymore, and she hasn’t wanted to drive her two seater for a while now, so we’re trading it for something practical). Things are finally going fairly well, all things considered ❤️

[loumauve]

I snapped today at work, and by snapped I mean I politely commented on a help desk ticket by summing up an mess of an (type of) issue that's come up for at least the fourth time in the 2+ months I've been managing user accounts, and asked the person responsible to fix it (himself for once) because last time I fixed his mess-up it took me two whole days to work out the details with at least four other colleagues from different departments and I really don't want to do it again. there's other shit that needs doing, I've been working 10+ hour days for most of this week already, so I need to cut down not add on more.

(good thing tho - at least we managed to fix the issue where the dataset of a newer employee got mixed up with another one of the same name and therefore wasn't able to apply for any of the access/accounts she needed. technically not entirely my area but it does impact us not being allowed to create an account for her so I figured I might as well track that issue down. took three days and at least three other people, but hey - it should all work out now. yay for that)

[tojbnuy]

highly requested part 2 of roommate!sukuna :) part 1 !!

cw: lol. humping, rubbing thru panties what’s the proper term for this? soft!dom sukuna he thinks he’s mean but he’s a softie, sub!reader, she’s bit of a bimbo we love her, tit fucking, feelings if you squint. MDNI.

a/n : not proofread but thank you for all the love on part one, any suggestions for the jjk roommate series are greatly appreciated :)

sukuna had been thinking about it all week. been creating an intervention in his mind about your way of living. he was putting an end to this. the past week itself was enough to finalize it for him. nearly every night you guys had sat down on the couch together to binge watch your current show. and every night you had been in your underwear and a thin tank top. sometimes he even turned the ac on so you’d feel colder and put a cardigan on. that backfired however when you were still cold and decided to seek heat from your big warm roommate. sukuna had dug his own grave because for the next one and a half hours he had your tits pressed up against his side and your ponytail draped over his arms. he could feel your hard nipples, could smell your shampoo and could see practically the entirety of your ass. safe to say he had a very long and cold shower that night while you ran along to your bed. and last night you had walked past him in the kitchen and ran your fingers up and down his back ogling his tattoos.

‘i really like your tattoos kuna’ you had said with the sweetest little smile on your face. you really had no idea what you did to him.

so tonight was the night. sukuna was gonna tell you what was on his mind. and you had presented the moment perfectly by tiptoeing into his room at 2:13am with your bunny plushy squeezed tight in your arms. sukuna was shocked to see you, he was planning to make his was to your room where he knew you were awake scrolling on your phone.

‘kuna i wanna sleep with you.’

his eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. knowing you, you would talk about sex so carelessly.

‘what??’

‘i wanna sleep with you.’ your voice was all tiny and whiny and you had that same fucking adorable tone that made him want to shove you in his pocket.

but to his relief (sort of) you peeled back the blanket and climbed into his lap, curling up like all the pictures of baby deers that you showed him. you made yourself comfortable by shuffling around some, your legs were around his waist, arms dropping to your sides.

‘why can’t you sleep in your own room.’

‘because i watched a scary video and it’s too cold in my room for me to get eight hours of sleep.’

Right. well his life just got ten times harder. he thought he’d have this problem sorted yet said problem was now in his lap. there were two ways he could do this. stroke your hair and pat your back as he explained what was bothering him. or pull your hair and smack your ass. unfortunately sukuna had never been much of a nice person.

‘listen doll there’s only so much i can tolerate.’

that had your attention, he rarely ever used this tone with you so you’d clearly made him mad.

‘i need to know exactly why you have no respect for me-‘

‘what? i respect you’

‘no you don’t. if you did, you wouldn’t be treating me like i’m one of your girlfriends. running around my place in your underwear. shoving your tits in my face every goddamn second of the day. grinding your little ass on me every time you fucking sit down.’

you had no words. you never thought sukuna would call you out on your behavior.

‘what? cat got your tongue now doll?’

‘i don’t like wearing clothes! i feel more comfy with no clothes on. i’m sorry.’

okay now he wasn’t tryna make you feel bad.

‘and you shoving your tits in my face every chance you get? jumping into my lap like a cat.’

‘i just. i feel nice when im close to you.’

‘nice? nice how?’

‘i don’t know how to say it. just feels nice.’

‘you mean nice here?’ he said as his hand cupped your warm cunt. immediately you gasped and shoved your face into his chest.

‘answer me.’

‘yes.’

‘knew you had it in you.’

‘now i would ask if you want me to carry on. but id say you deserve a little punishment for the way you’ve been acting don’t you think.’

he said as he lightly massaged you through you underwear. sukuna was so mean.

tiny little whimpers left you as his thumb drew circles over your clit through your panties, his other hand harshly gripping your ass cheek.

‘no no please. please kuna.’

‘please what doll? you think you deserve anything nice after acting like that? always so desperate aren’t you.’

‘please please, it hurts.’

you were growing frantic now, grinding your hips around and chasing for any more friction other than his single thumb.

‘only cos i’m feeling nice today. but i’m not giving you anymore than this. you need to learn a lesson.’

he pressed his index and middle fingers harder against your clit rubbing frantically as you all but wept into his chest.

‘sensitive baby aren’t you?’

‘feels so good kuna’

his fingers were relentless on your pussy, but he made sure never to move your underwear out the way. it didn’t take long before you were coming in your panties, tiny sighs breathed into his neck.

‘now doll. take your shirt off for me.’

‘mm okay’ and so obediently you lifted your shirt off and threw it to the floor.

sukuna took a minute to admire you. such pretty tits that he was finally seeing in their full glory. he grabbed a fistful of each and pulled harshly at your nipples.

‘you wanted this didn’t you? s’that why they’re always in my face?’

‘no no i wasn’t trying anything.’ you said with your eyes shut firmly at the slight burn. you couldn’t deny having his hands on you had that tingly warmth growing inside you again.

‘get my dick out for me doll.’

you knew not make him repeat himself. sukuna watched as your smaller hands (those trademark pink nails) shimmied his sweats down and reached into his boxers. he was already throbbing and you gasped at the sheer size of him in your palms.

‘please will you. can you-‘

‘what you wanna get fucked? you think you deserve that?’

‘yes i do please kuna’

‘yeah well i dont, now lay down here.’

he maneuvered you onto your back and peppered small kisses along your jaw. somehow kissing you on the mouth felt slightly too intimate.

‘push your tits together for me doll.’

‘like this?’

you said with the sweetest expression on your face, your small hands pushing at your breasts.

‘just like that doll.’

then he was straddling your chest and he began to thrust himself through the small gap between your pretty tits. fast and hard cos that was the only way to do it.

‘stick your tongue out for me’

and of course you did as told. this sight was all he needed from today onwards. you with the fat of your breasts spilling out your hands. eyes slightly teary and your tongue out licking at his tip.

he was quick to come himself, moving fast so he could cum directly on your tits.

neither of you spoke as he caught his breath. he could sense your shy demeanor coming back and as mean as he was, he wasn’t like that.

‘hey doll.’ he said with a little tap to your cheek to bring your eyes to his. he left hand stroked your cheek as his other used his shirt to wipe away the mess he’d left on your chest.

‘you still wanna sleep in my bed?’

‘yes please?’

‘always so sweet aren’t you?’

he picked you up and placed you on his chest. he wasn’t much of a cuddler but you obviously were. you snuggled your face into the crook of his neck and you warm tits were squished against his own pecs. it was still quite cold so he held you close, there was a lot more for the two of you to talk about which kept his mind busy while he attempted to put you to bed.

just as he had thought you’d drifted off, your little voice spoke up.

‘kuna?’

‘yeah doll.’

‘does this mean i can still not wear clothes in the house?’

he couldn’t help but laugh at that. your biggest worry being if you’d have to wear clothes from now on.

‘nah doll your good. you can keep em off’

‘yay.’

taglist: @totallygyomeiswife @26xidk @kamospeach @desi-laila @chaestwbryz @blueemochii @wrldtups

[tyranicalgrief]

woof lmao

[no-144444]

the oscars- o.piastri

꩜ summary: you bring your own oscar to the oscar's!

꩜ pairing: married! oscar piastri x actress! fem! reader

꩜ a/n: just realised i never posted this and it has been sitting in my drafts for over a month and a half ish lol

I want you to come with me. 

Those words had run through his head like a fucking jack-hammer for weeks. What did that even entail? Acquiring a tux, sure. He could do that. Learn all the names of the people he could potentially meet, any celebrities or old co-stars he’d probably met but didn’t remember. Again, he could do that. Sit beside you all night and let you be your wonderful self as he got a first class seat and bragging rights about the fact that he was yours, he did that all day everyday. 

So why did this feel so different? He’d been to award shows before. Not the award show, but motorsports ones. You’d come as his date. The world knew about you two. He’d gone to the BAFTAs with you one year. He should be fine. He knows he’s just there to hold your hand all night and make sure you don’t forget to eat something, but this just feels… different. This was the Oscars. The one night all of Hollywood steps out in their very best, hoping to get something back. And you were nominated in 3 categories. 

“Fix your bowtie,” Hattie fussed over him as he rolled his eyes. You’d even invited his whole family. You weren’t super close with yours and they hadn’t really supported your career, but the Piastri’s had. Nicole went to every premiere you offered her, sometimes flying last minute just to be there to support you. He remembered how touched you’d been when she showed up at your Cannes debut, you called him crying that night, not even knowing what to do with yourself because you thought it was just so nice. You were 14 then, but you were 24 now, and you weren’t just his girlfriend, you were his wife. You were officially part of the family, even though you had been from the moment he’d brought you home. He started playing with his ring, a nervous habit he’d picked up since getting married. 

“It is fixed,” he snapped back as she fiddled with it. “Mum said it looked fine-”

“I wasn’t looking at you when I said that!” she called from the other room. Oscar rolled his eyes again. 

“Your eyes are on swivels today,” Mae teased, looking up from her phone. Oscar fought back rolling them again, and instead went for a scoff. 

“I’m the only reason you guys are even coming,” he scoffed, Hattie still fixing his tie. Mae’s jaw dropped in offence. 

She gasped. “Excuse you! I think Y/n would still invite us even if you guys got a divorce.” 

A shiver went up his spine at that thought. Leaving you?  He couldn’t do it. He knew in his bones he’d adore you until he was old and grey, and probably a while after that too. 

“She definitely would,” Eddie added, walking in. “Plus, she’s dressed now, if you want to see her.”

Oscar tried to pull away from Hattie, but he just got choked by his bowtie, resulting in a fit of coughs and a gaggle of laughter from his sisters. 

He heard a chuckle he knew all too well and he turned his head. You were radiant. A burgundy formal gown, your hair exactly the way you loved it, and that wonderful look in your eyes. The one he saw when he woke up next to you. The one that made him blush no matter how long you’d been together. “You alright there?” you questioned.

He chuckled and Hattie finally finished with his bowtie, so he turned to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his lips to yours as he lifted you off the ground- just slightly. You grinned against his lips and he felt the panic that had been building completely subside. You pulled back as your feet reached the ground again, and chuckled. “Do I have lipstick?” he asked, a question he asked most days. You nodded, but Mae got up to take a photo, giggling at her brother with you. It didn’t bother him. You finally just wiped it off and smiled at him. 

“What do you think?” you asked, pulling back and giving him a spin. You showed off the low back and he knew he’d be ripping this dress off of you tonight. He swore the breath was knocked from his lungs every time you looked at him, but truly, you were breathtaking. 

“I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the entire world,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Oh yeah?” you smirked. He nodded. 

“Oh yeah.” 

The Red Carpet was as overwhelming as usual, but he enjoyed watching his sisters interact with the few fans of theirs that were there. He watched you with so much love and pride in his eyes, so much so that Tim had to nudge him to remember to walk on and not just stand in the back of your photos looking at you lovingly. When you finally finished up, you grabbed his hand as he led you into the auditorium. 

“You still have my speeches?’ you questioned. He tapped his chest, signalling that it was in his breast pocket. You smiled. “Thank you.”

“Always,” he smiled back. “Forever.” 

As soon as your moment began, it ended, because Nicole pulled you away to go talk to people and fucked off to the dinner table. He watched as you worked the room, animatedly speaking to people as he watched on from his seat at the table, thoroughly enjoying his food. 

It was his dad who pulled him out of his daze, asking how he was feeling. 

“I’m fine,” he nodded, only slightly lying. 

Chris smiled. “She’s going to win ‘em, I bet you.” 

“She will,” Oscar nodded. “Her work has been incredible this year.”

“You’re telling me,” he chuckled. “I cried for three days over the Outrun.”

Oscar laughed out loud as his dad shook his head. “I know what you mean.”

Just then, Oscar caught your eye from the other side of the ballroom and you smiled at him, waving. He waved back. You were a vision in burgundy. He swore to go he was going to get heart palpitations from how beautiful you were. 

“Starting soon now,” Tim clapped his hands on Oscar’s shoulders. “Better be ready with those acceptance speeches.”

Chris smiled at Tim. “Took the words out of my mouth,” he chuckled. “Also have to practice your shocked face. Even though we all know she’s going to win every single one of them,” Chris tapped his leg. “Like how she pretends to be shocked when you win.” 

Oscar laughed, his cheeks going red. Why was he being embarrassed by his own father and step-father at the Oscars right now? He wanted you back, you could always calm them down, make them less… whatever they were. 

“Busy?” you asked, coming up to the table, your question directed at him. He stood up immediately. 

“Not at all,” he shook his head, the boys behind him chuckling like schoolgirls. He took your hand and you led him to the foot of the stage, squeezing his hand. 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you whispered, leaning to his shoulder. “Thank you for coming.” 

“I'm so proud of you,” he smiled, his hand sneaking around your waist to pull you closer. He loved this. These quiet moments between all the hustle and bustle of your own lives. The room melted away behind you as you both stared at the stage you hoped you’d end up on tonight, but he knew you would. “I’ll always come.”

You chuckled. “You said cum.” 

He rolled his eyes, the soft moment between the two of you, now abruptly over due to his choice of words. He looked down at you and you laughed at his unimpressed stare. “I love you?” you offered, cupping his cheek. 

“I guess I love you too,” he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours gently, but quickly- as to not get lipstick all over his mouth. 

“And the nominees are; Anora, written by Sean Baker. The Brutalist, written by Brady Corbet, Mona Fastvold. A Real Pain, written by Jesse Eisenberg. , September 5, written by Moritz Binder, Tim Fehlbaum; co-written by Alex David. The Substance, written by Y/n Y/l/n,” the crowd cheered and he felt your hand squeeze his just a little tighter. “And the winner is… Anora, written by Sean Baker!” 

Despite the loss, you stood and clapped for him. Oscar joined you, though he thought you should’ve probably won. You both sat back down as his speech began and he took your hand again. “You alright?”

You nodded beside him, your eyes fixed to Sean and his speech. “There’s still like 4 hours left, don’t worry.”

He chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to your hand. Ever the positive person. 

“And the nominees are; Anora, Sean Baker. The Brutalist, David Jancso. Conclave, Nick Emerson. The Outrun, Y/n Y/l/n. Wicked, Myron Kerstein,” you tensed beside him. “And the winner is… Y/n Y/l/n, The Outrun!” 

And the room stood for you. He felt like he was in slow motion. You both stood up at the same time, a bright smile on your face (he was sure he looked ridiculous), and you turned to him and you hugged him. 

“Holy shit,” you whispered. He smiled back, nodding. 

“You fucking did it,” he cheered as he pulled the speech out of his pocket. “Go accept it.” 

You nodded and started your descent down the stairs. The entirety of Hollywood was on their feet for you. You’d been working in the industry since you were a kid. Everyone knew how wonderful you were. Only he got to see it everyday. He watched, pride practically spilling from every pore as you stood up on that stage, taking the award in your hand, the sheet of paper in your hand. You looked up, a teary smile on your lips. “Wow,” you breathed out, looking at the room, but your eyes immediately met Oscar’s, and you both smiled again. “Hello, and thank you,” you started. “Umm… alright, speech- yes!” you unfolded the piece of paper in your hand and took a deep breath. “Well… first of all, I’d like to thank the academy, because this-” you held up your award. “Is incredible. And next, I’d like to thank my family. Nicole, Tim, Chris, Hattie, Eddie, Mae,” Oscar was already tearing up, and he was sure his mom was at the floodgates stage of it all. “You’ve been so incredibly kind to me over the past decade. You took me in when I was just a random 14 year old your son or brother was dating, and you gave me a family, and I'll always be grateful. Next, I’d like to thank my husband-” he felt a tear fall down his cheek and he knew there were about twenty cameras on him. There were a few cheers from the crowd. “- Oscar, you’ve made me insanely happy, and you’re my everything. But you’re also the only person I’ll ever let in my editing room. I love how curious you were at the start, and now, how effortlessly you help me. Truly, this is half yours-” you chuckled, and so did he. “No matter what. Whether you were coming in from a race weekend, totally exhausted, or just come back from a run, you’ll sit beside me in silence and help me make it all work. I don’t think you understand how much that means to me, so, thank you. I love you all, thank you!” you finished off, just wiping the small tear that had fallen away, as the crowd rose for you again. Oscar was a goner, tears falling freely as he tried to wipe them away. God, you were too kind. He adored you. 

The night ended at 3am, you walked away with two Oscar awards, and one Oscar. He was grinning the whole time, too. Couldn’t stop. You won Best Editing and Best Supporting Actress. His family were elated and you giggled on the way back tot he hotel as you watched videos of them react to you winning, since they weren't sitting beside you.

Both you and Oscar were exhausted, so you fell into bed, immediately tangling with each other and knocking out. 

He ran a hand through your hair as he lazily closed his eyes. "Y/n?"

You hummed against his skin, sign enough that you were slightly conscious.

"I adore you," he whispered, the silence of the room seeming even quieter in the dark. You looked up at him through tired eyes, a soft smile on your lips.

"I feel it," you smiled. "And I love you too."

Best night ever.

mclaren masterlist

navigation for my blog :)

[shouyuus]

─── Ⅵ FIGURE EIGHTS

violet; 28,888 words; fluff and smut (at the end), semi enemies to lovers, fake dating, hockey!vi x figure skater!reader, ice dancers!meljayce, miscommunication, smau-intermissions, toxic ex!cait, simpgirl!vi, slowburn, the gays r bad at feelings, lots of making out that almost leads to something, emotional edging (for YOU lol), fingering (both receiving), thigh riding, oral (r!receiving), slightly unhinged!reader, no "y/n"

summary: a hockey player and a figure skater kind of, sort of, not really, but then actually fall in love. what could possibly go wrong? (narrator: apparently, everything.)

a/n: YALL. yall. YOU. ALL. lmfao. i can't believe i finished this (i say, after writing any fic longer than 5k words). but i TRULY doubted for a second that i would bc as i kept writing, it kept... getting longer? i hope that this doesn't drag, and that you guys like it. it's really a fucking labor of love. like heavy emphasis on the labor. shoutout to @vifilms for being my emotional support, and to my irl bf for actually physically reading through like 90% of this fic out LOUD with me to make sure the dialogue doesn't sound awk. BUT ANYWAYS. pls enjoy and PLS tell me what u guys think!!!! the smau fake texts won't start till chapter three, but ! it's my first time making like.. fake texts so sldkfjsd.

TABLE OF CONTENTS ━

prologue: party people

chapter one: shut up and kiss me

chapter two: fists to a knife fight

chapter three: love's dream

chapter four: for cup's sake

chapter five: don't hate the player (suggestive)

chapter six: six (nsfw)

─── TAG YOU'RE IT .ᐟ.ᐟ

pls comment below if you'd like to be tagged for this series! :) if you're already on my vi-taglist via my normal taglist link, then you're all good. if you only wanna be tagged for this series, comment below! pls pls have your age visible somewhere on your blog as this will be an 18+ fic!!!! thank you!!!

prologue: party people

─── Ⅵ IT STARTS WITH A GAME of spin the bottle — a college party post-game, the home team the exhalant victors, the crowds of adoring fans the worshippers at their beer-tower altars, doing keg stands and shot-gunning cans of cheap bud lite for an approving grin or a wink.

“Remind me why we’re here again?” you ask, jerking back as a drunken guy nearly topples into you, the red solo cup in his hand sloshing over onto the already sticky linoleum floor.

Mel sighs, “Because, darling, you promised me that you’d come out at least once if me and Jayce made it through the Challenger Series this year.”

She tugs you behind her, weaving through the crush of bodies till the cramped living room area opens onto a much larger patio, the mid-autumn chill cooling your skin.

“It was a joke,” you say, whining slightly even as Mel grabs what looks like an unopened hard cider from the table and presses it into your hand.

“Yes, and one that hurt my feelings,” Mel sniffs, turning her nose up, though a grin teases at her lips, “so to make up for it, you now have to stay at this party and have some semblance of a good time.”

And that was three and a half drinks ago, because sometime between then and now, you’ve found yourself pulled into an unwitting game of spin the bottle with what seems like half the entire hockey team, sitting next to Mel, her boyfriend Jayce on your other side, chatting animatedly with one of the girls hockey girls. You overhear the words “creatin” and “Bulgarian Squat” and decided that it’s time for you to tune out of the conversation.

“Vi, it’s your turn!”

Vi, your thoughts linger over the sound.

It’s a pretty name.

You glance up at the girl sitting across from you, Number Six — you’ve always known her as that, what with the tattoo on her cheek (there were rumors that it’s actually not real and she just reapplies one of those temporary tattoos every two weeks) and the fact that it’s her jersey number, it’s really not too hard to remember.

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, laughing as she reaches for the empty beer bottle in the middle of the circle. Her right hand’s bandaged up and you can’t help staring at it. When you look up next, it’s to catch her watching you, your eyes meeting in a startling clash of raw contact — the cacophonous noise of the party dulling out to a thin whine somewhere at the back of your head as you stare at her and she stares right back.

You’d never noticed that her eyes, even in the dark, beneath the dim, flickering patio lights, reads mourning-dove blue, so subtle it’s almost gray, so sharp as she takes you in that your stomach drops from inside you. She smirks and twists her fingers expertly around the bottle, setting it whizzing.

You tear your eyes away, your breath sent astray in your chest by just that look alone. You frown at the spinning bottle, your mind abuzz with fragmentary thoughts you can’t quite string along for long enough to form a full sentence — eyes… her lips are pretty… wasn’t she dating… someone? who??? what’s her name again? something pretty —

“— right, ice princess, you ready?”

“Huh?” you jerk your eyes up from the bottle to find everyone watching you. From your left, Mel nudges you with a sanctimonious grin, her eyes flickering down to the bottle and back up towards —

“Go on!” she hisses, even as you blink uncomprehendingly down at the bottle pointing right at you.

Across the circle, Vi’s questioning smirk is all the answer you need as your alcohol-addled brain finally puts together the pieces.

“R-right…” you push up onto your knees, but something holds you back, a niggling feeling in the back of your brain as Vi’s smirk grows wide and she jerks her head towards the living room.

“Want a bit of privacy? Or… would you prefer an audience?”

Half the circle wolf-whistles at the insinuation, the other half roll their eyes, leaning back on their elbows as if to settle in for a long night.

You lick your lips, feeling your mouth scald dry.

“Privacy. Please.”

You follow Vi stiffly from the patio back into the stuffy house, her fingers closing around your wrist as she tugs you behind her through a long hallway splitting off from the main living room, branching into a series of what look like bedrooms. Half the doors are closed, illicit sounds echoing out from behind them, but Vi finds an empty one near the end of the hallway and pushes it open, leading you inside.

“Oh wow,” you say, looking around the room. It’s a typical fratboy’s room, full of suggestive posters, the floor littered with questionably laundered clothes.

“What, not your ideal setting for a makeout-sesh with a stranger?”

You frown as your eyes slingshot back to Vi, her standing feet from you, hands tucked loosely into her pockets, watching you with dark, firefly eyes.

“Thought we were just supposed to kiss once.”

Vi chuckles, closing the distance between you in a few quick strides, crowding you up against the closed door.

“Sure. We can do that. Or…” she makes no effort to hide the way her eyes flicker down to your lips, trailing back up in a line of fire that sizzles against your skin. “I could show you what a real good time looks like.”

Your breath crystalizes in your chest, and the strange, tickling feeling traces down the back of your head till it gathers, hot and unconscionable at the nape of your neck — a spin-click wheel of half-formed thoughts and images ticking by behind your eyelids as you try to remember why the hell this feels so wrong.

And then, it clicks, and you press a hand to Vi’s chest just as she’s leaning down to graze her lips against yours, the friction so delicious you almost lose your train of thought.

“A-are you sure this is a good idea? Didn’t you just break up with that track and field girl? Caitlyn?” you blurt out, a culmination of all the snippets of whispered conversations and half-caught glances of the pair of them across campus. The It-Girl Couple, people called them, the hockey team star and the track and field genius. They were hard to miss, and even harder to forget.

A moth-wing-flicker of emotions crosses Vi’s face as she takes half a step back, her expression morphing into one of shock, and then hurt, and finally, hard-lined disgust as she looks down at you with a thin-lipped grimace.

“Oh fuck you.”

She yanks you from the door, storming out without a backwards glance. You catch yourself against the half-made bed, your breath coming in heaving pants as your head spins. Guilt curdles in the bed of your stomach like spoilt milk, and it only takes you half a second to realize that of all the things to say, that probably was the worst possible choice.

You’d heard mention of the breakup, even if you didn’t have any stakes in this so-called game. It was harsh and messy and loud, and it had spilled across campus like a backed-up toilet, oozing foulness and stank across the grounds till not a single person was left unstained in the aftermath.

“Wait —” you stumble after Vi, but it’s too late. By the time you reach the patio doors, she’s already settling back into her place in the circle, an easy grin slung across her lips.

You swallow, pushing through the door to scurry over to Mel’s side. Mel beams at the flush in your cheeks, convinced (just like the rest of the circle) that it’d been one hell of a kiss, judging by how entirely breathless you are.

“Damn Vi, you gotta learn how to go easy on them figure skaters, hm?” Margot smirks, her eyes glittering as she looks you over, “look at the poor darling — she can barely breathe!”

Everyone laughs, and Vi flashes a convincingly satisfied smirk, shrugging up a shoulder. You glance at her, only to shiver at the arctic ice behind her gaze as your eyes catch once more.

“What can I say? Easy isn’t a setting I come programmed with.”

You duck your head as Vi casts you one more frigid look before turning to laugh at something a teammate has just said, and the circle devolves into good-natured banter and pocket conversations. You gulp around your too-dry throat and pluck Mel’s drink from her hand, tossing the rest of it back in a single gulp. She blinks at you, eyes wide.

“Darling, are you —”

“I — I’m fine just — it’s — I think I’m gonna head back.”

Mel frowns, “Are you sure? I mean —” she looks towards where Vi’s been pulled into an impromptu arm-wrestling match with some dude from the football team, “you could try and —”

You shake your head, “No, I — I think I’m good. I had a good time, I just —” you run a hand through your hair, “I’ve got practice tomorrow and Amara’s gonna murder me if I get there late.”

Mel stares for a second before relenting, a soft sigh on her lips.

“Alright, alright — go on then. I’ll… I’ll see you tomorrow at practice, yes?”

You give her a tight-lipped smile, reaching out for a quick hug before ducking out of the party, skirting the edges of the growing mosh pit forming in the living room till you finally find yourself out on the front steps again.

You close your eyes for a second, pressing your back to the frat house door, feeling the dull thump of the music inside reverberating through the thin wooden frame as you breathe in and out.

You can still taste the heat of Vi’s breath on your lips, feel harsh sting of ice as she’d caught your eyes after. The chill air, once refreshing, pebbles your skin and an involuntary shiver shakes down your spine. You wrap your arms around yourself and give your head a good shake.

Whatever, you think, stepping off the porch, casting your eyes up at the star-strewn sky, a whisp of warm breath fogging up the air before you.

Not like it’ll matter. Bet she won’t even remember me after tonight.

taglist: @traiitorjoe @rizzscary @wetcat020 @alex-thegiraffeboyy @nanasemo @saturnhas82moons @unear7hly @drsnowrose @grantaires-waistcoat @isab3lita @ally-all-around @starrysetup22 @lipsent @lewd_alien @jack-frost-2010 @starsfortaylor @onesockcat @lesbian-useless @armins-slvt

[coconutdays]

seat taker

s. you have a crush on the smartest and sexiest guy in your lit class who happens to ride a motorcycle with spooky season around the corner. what ever might happen?

w.c. 10.6k

w. fem! reader, biker!geto! x reader , fluff!, smut! (its more so toward the end so u can read until it cuts off to that lol if u want)

a/n: based on this idea I posted about biker!geto from uni lol, I didn't really proofread so ill get to that sometime later after I shower and eat lol just wanted to get this out

"go sit next to him then."

you take a nervous gulp from your water bottle as you walk to your lit class. the effort was a bit clumsy considering you were using one hand to open and close it while the other held your phone, your friend on the other line.

"never, would I ever have the balls to do that. i may be confident but I am not as delusional as the caveman gym bro that took your seat so he could sit next to me in anthropology."

she laughs on the other end, a hysterical giggle at your backtalk.

"well then he's just gonna keep thinking you're creepy cause you stare."

you let out a haughty scoff, "as if I acknowledge his existence." a finger of yours goes up in the air, as if she could see you being a smartass about your discretion, "I never look at him. I only get in a glance or two when he asks the professor a question or when he raises his hand to answer a question."

"you're insane."

"unfixable." you sigh prettily and proudly before giving a more serious response to her first suggestion, "and it would be really awkward if I sat next to him either way. the class is packed and everyone has their assigned unassigned seats, the white haired guy that always sits next to him would probably push me off his seat if he ever saw me there."

"that is true. some girl did that to me in stats and I was like ??? have you not been sitting somewhere else this entire semester? pissed me off that I had to sit somewhere else and take someone's seat."

you're about five seconds away from your lecture hall door when you add to her complaint.

"right. and then that person looks at you funny cause you took their seat and then argh–its just a fucking domino effect." you turn around and take a step into the class, the sight before you bringing emphasis to the last words that you meant to finish off with, "fuck seat takers..."

"huh. what was that last part?"

your classroom is full. every one of the 200 seats are seemingly just taken. it's a sight you're not used to when you walk into class. normally, when you decide to go in, about half of the class is there, and you were starting to curse the fact that you gave yourself the luxury to finish the last of your reading for next week ahead of time. those ten minutes didn't seem like they'd make a difference, they sure do now...

with white haired guy sitting in YOUR seat.

its across the lecture hall from where he normally sits, next to Geto, who just so conveniently has an empty seat next to him, the only empty seat.

poker face, poker face, poker face.

it's all you repeat to yourself as you walk up the carpet steps to the row where Geto is sitting and try to continue the conversation with your friend.

there's no white noise, some people are typing away at their computers and others are chatting with the person next to them or near them, so it gives you room to explain yourself a little without being heard.

"everybody's already in class, and white haired guy is in my seat dude, and guess which seat isn't fucking taken." there's an edge to your voice, however it lays undetectable with your calm face.

"WAITTTTTTTT. AHAHA–"

you can feel your body heating up in nerves when you start walking between Geto's row, to the seat next to him.

"stop f/n. I am on the verge of committing a serious crime. I'm going to actually end up in handcuffs by the end of today. the–"

"AHAHAHAHAHAHA." She keeps laughing at you as you force yourself to not care that you're pulling out and sinking into the chair next to Geto. If he acknowledged you, you wouldn't have known, his mere presence something you deleted from your mind in order to process the current events before you right now.

a high pitched and drawn out HA is the last of her laughs you hear before she speaks again, "I basically manifested this for you. you should be thanking me."

"fuck your manifesting. I'm not excited for this." you don't care to filter your voice into a whisper, it stays at its normal tone even though you're next to Geto because he didn't even know what the conversation was about anyway.

you balance your phone between your shoulder and cheek while you begin to take out your iPad and journal for class.

"ask him for a ride on his motorcycle after heh." she pokes at you and you feel like you can hear her poking out her tongue in malevolence.

even though you're slightly grumpy at your predicament, you manage to make a comment accompanied by a sigh, "with the way midterms are looking, id need a different kind of ride."

"you can ask him for that too~"

"shut up, you menace."

"hehe," she strikes evilly, "well, I'll leave you to your class with your boyfriend."

"no, stop, the class doesn't even–"

"bye!"

and she hung up on you, leaving you to flip mindlessly through your notebook while you try to ignore the presence of the hot hot hot piece of sexiness next to you.

suguru geto has been at the forefront of your mind for weeks now. you had always slightly admired him from afar, considering your actual seat in the lecture hall was across the room from him. he was undeniably attractive, with his long black always tied up in a bun and clean outfits. and his intelligence, he was always one to garner thoughtful debates in class in response to the professors teachings. his calmness towards everything was enough to make you swoon at the thought go him being that patient with you too.

and his stupid motorcycle, the thing that made it all click for you.

you had been walking to the library after class to meet with your classmate to work on an anthropology presentation when you caught a glimpse–stare–of him getting onto a motorcycle and pulling a helmet over his head before he quickly rode off to wherever he was going. for some reason, it really got your gears grinding and wishing you could just jump this man and do some truly desperate things.

he was all you thought about after. none of the other cute guys in your classes could hold a candle to the being that is suguru geto, renouncing you into a pining mess that looked forward to every lit class–even though you pretended you didn't care for him.

god, what even was the point in all of this if you weren't ever going to make a move? if he just SPOKE to you first maybe you could get some rizz in–

"you have pretty handwriting."

"I–what?"

you perk up like a deer in headlights at the sudden voice of Geto, wondering if you're the one he's speaking to.

and he is, he's spinning a pen between his fingers while he looks at you, slightly gesturing towards the journal in your hands, your cursive covering the pages of it.

"oh!" you're still caught off guard, doe eyes in the face of his sudden and scary, to you, comment, "thank you. can't even read it sometimes though, it's like trying to understand another language when I have to study what I write after."

he smiles slightly at your comment, a whisp of his dark hair swaying near his right eye, "I think it'd be cool to try and translate."

you resist the urge to curl into a ball and wish he would just look away from you, but you persevere, holding out your journal to him.

"be my guest." you say without hesitance

he sets his pen aside when he grabs it, immediately flipping through the pages and starting to skim through your notes, his eyes moving side to side as he does. you get a good view of him while he goes about trying to decipher your writings. he's wearing a black shirt today, it's not exactly tight, but not loose either. it gives you the perfect view of his arms bulging a bit, his biceps' size is an eye sore for you.

he's wearing these black stud earrings too, only visible because of the bun that he keeps his long hair. you wish you could see how long his hair actually was sometimes, he had never worn it down to class.

"looks like I'm more versed in your cursive than you are." he glances at you, a faint smile on his lips

your eyebrows raise a little and your eyes widen, "what? you can read it?"

he closes the journal and slides it to your spot on the very long lecture table. geto then leans over to your side a bit, close to your ear, and starts to point across the room to his white haired friend.

"see that idiot with the pitch black glasses?"

the question sends chills down your spine, the proximity making your heart race.

"y-yeah."

"silver spoon baby. learned cursive when he was four and it's basically incomprehensible unless you've been sharing notes with him since high school."

a laugh flows out of your lips, etching a smile on your face. your shoulder slightly bumps into his chest from it before you turn your head to directly face his.

"and I'm taking it that you're well versed in his cursive then too?"

he looks at you with a slight dreaminess in his eyes, his height still domineering over you even if you were both seated next to each other.

"have to be, would have failed lots of class projects if I didn't"

you take the opportunity to poke about the whereabouts of his friend in your seat now that he's been mentioned.

"and why's he sitting over there then?" you blink up at him for a response

at this, geto sinks back to his original position on his chair, face a million miles away from yours now as he goes back to fiddling with his pen.

"he's...trying to flirt with the girl he's talking to right now." he shakes his head a little, although there isn't much of a disappointed look in his face, it's more entertained. he was probably used to his friend's antics by now.

"ah. at least it looks like she's into it." you dispense the weight of your head onto the palm of your hand as you look at his friend with him, "could not have been me."

"what?"

you don't turn to look at him as you respond, "this Andrew Tate gym bro took my friend's seat to sit next to me in my anthropology class the other day. tried speaking to me like those guys who swear all you need is a computer to become a millionaire. worst ninety minutes of my life."

you hear a puff of a laugh from geto

"I can guarantee you Gojo has better skills than that. he's probably talking about his Halloween party for this weekend."

you flip your head to look at him suddenly, "he's that guy?"

every big party that everyone talked about on campus was always held by Gojo. they had numerous amounts of beers and liquor bottles. always the best music, the best hookup stories, the best snacks, everything. you hadn't put a face to the name until now, although it should've clicked when you found out Geto's name. his was always being paired with Gojo, as some would put it, two pretty best friends.

geto could see the gears turning in your head and his eyes creased a little at your realization in a smile, "yea, that's the guy."

you're a bit taken aback by his confirmation and turn to take another look at gojo before looking back at geto.

amused, geto speaks again, "by all means, go for it, he's–"

you quickly shake your head and stretch out both your hands to frantically do the same, "no, god, no. i'm not into him. it's just I didn't know that was him. I always hear good things about his parties."

geto nods, "he has an affinity for making sure everyone has a good time. you ever been to one?"

you shake your head, "never, haven't had the chance to or been invited."

"you should go to the Halloween one." geto suggests, gesturing his pen in your direction before going back to spinning it around his fingers, "you know where it is?"

you shake your head again, now completely facing his direction, the attention you were giving to his friend gone and now placed on him.

geto gestures towards your journal and reaches for it, "may I?"

you nod, curious at what he was going to do.

he flips the journal and opens the very last page, guaranteed to be blank and begins writing something on it.

when he pushes it back to your side of the table, you can see what he's written now, an address.

"that's where the frat house is."

you wiggle your eyebrows a little at him, "you in the frat too?"

geto laughs fully this time and shakes his head, "no. I have my own apartment. that's just gojo's thing."

you acknowledge him and look over the address written on your journal, "I'll think about it. have to wear my costume somewhere right?"

"what is it?" he tilts his head curiously, genuine interest in what you would choose to dress up as.

you try to bite back the smile at the knowledge you have of your costume and choose to leave it up in the air for him, tapping your journal on his shoulder.

"now that is something for you to find out if you see me at the party."

just how it's entailed in mean girls, you dress up slutty for gojo's halloween party. you wore a playboy bunny costume, close to one of the sluttier things you can wear, but it's rare recently for girls to wear as opposed to the trendy fairy and angel costumes lately.

although it isn't exactly halloween yet, its the first out of the two parties gojo was holding in honor of the holiday. next weekend there would be another one on the actual day, but you didn't know if you'd go that one yet, you were going to see what this one was all about though.

you brought your friend with you, hooking her up with the address geto provided you because she had been aching to go to one of gojo's parties too.

your eyes light up when you see geto's sleek black motorcycle parked near the garage as the both of you walk to the door.

"god, there's so many people inside." your friend all but screeches in excitement and you would too if it weren't for the nerves of impending doom that geto, your everything crush and classmate, was going to see you wearing this.

the chills that come from the thought make you rub your shoulders for heat as you walk inside and the blaring of the music becomes even more booming now that it isn't being shielded by the walls of the house.

"where do you think the drinks are?" you try to speak up, a trace of small worry at bumping into geto laced in your voice.

she raises her head up and looks around to see where she could spot the alcohol until she starts dragging you by the hand, "the kitchen is over here I think!"

she pushes the both of you past clusters of people, paving the way for her desire for vodka and it makes you bump into someone a bit roughly.

you try to voice out your apology quickly as she keeps dragging you along, looking back at who you just bumped into.

it's geto.

his eyes show mild surprise, not one for entirely showing his emotions, they're widened a bit and he looks a bit taken aback while his eyes rake up and down your body–still being dragged away. he's not wearing a costume, sporting a white t-shirt and jeans instead.

the words of apology you were going to utter fall off as you make eye contact and realize it was him you bumped into, he who just got an obvious look at your costume.

you're glad the speed of your friend makes the interaction short lived due to her lightning speed in suddenly bringing you to the kitchen, which is lined with beer and liquor of all kinds, every space of the spacious kitchen taken up by alcohol.

you hurriedly reach to serve yourself a cup of strawberry vodka, hoping that the first sip and those after might make your nerves dilute. when you turn around to talk to your friend, who's probably already served herself straight flavorless vodka, she's being flirted with by her anthropology club crush. she gives you a quick glance, a combination of 'oh my god oh my god' and 'sorry' being communicated to you.

you smile at her knowingly and point towards where everyone was dancing and talking, marking that that's where you would be while you left her to go as far as she wanted with the boy in front of her.

you're halfway through the crowd to make it to the patio when a voice is suddenly in your ear from behind.

"is it as cool as people say?"

you jump at the intrusion and cradle the cup of vodka to your chest and look at who just spoke to you.

it's geto, exactly behind you, his large frame towering over your body and leaned over so you could hear him.

you're stopped in your tracks and turn around to face him now, trying hard not to feel intimated by your basically half naked right in front of him.

"yeah!" you nod

geto turns his head a little from his spot at least a foot above you and leans down again, at level heads with you

"sorry, say that again." he looks at you earnestly, wanting to be able to properly hear your answer with the loud music echoing into your ears and his.

"I said yeah! I didn't know parties could be this packed!" you say, taking a nervous sip from your cup as you look at him

"what happened to your friend?" geto keeps his posture the way it is to keep talking to you

"the guy she likes started talking to her!" you exclaim past the loud blare of music.

"ah." he nods, taking a quick glance to the kitchen and spotting your friend smiling eagerly at the guy in a jason costume in front of her. "what are you going to do then?"

you blink cluelessly, haven't actually thought about until he asked you.

"dance!" you look around the room so he could look with you. bodies pressed against each other and bodies dancing by themselves all across the room.

geto smiles and straightens himself before reaching a hand out to you and gives you a look of 'wanna take it?'

you can't help the bashful smile that makes its way to your face as you hesitantly take his hand. he softly brings you closer to him, not as close as the other horny bodies in the room, but it's a little intimate and makes you feel intoxicated. he puts his other hand high on your waist, making sure to avoid the sluttiness beneath that line of your torso considering your outfit, and he starts to sway the both of you to the music. he holds you to himself with you hook an arm over his shoulder and use the other hand to hold your drink, singing along to the music with a toothy smile.

it was playful, the interaction with him, a fun setting between the both of you. the combination of that and the large heap of strawberry vodka you served yourself and managed to finish by the second song with him were the reason for your increasing comfortable nature with him. you were laughing and laying your head on his chest frequently through your endless bursts of energy and gasping breaths for relief.

he was smiling throughout the entirety of it, never getting too comfortable though, and keeping his hands where they had originally been.

"I just wanna be one of your girls tonight!" you sing at the top of your lungs.

geto lets go of one of the hands encircling you and instead reaches for one of the hands splayed across his shoulder and chest, caressing it with a thumb.

you tug at him a little with your other hand and he leans down to hear what you're about to say.

"wanna get drinks?" you ask, craving a sweet hard seltzer instead of another pour of vodka.

"you want something?" geto asks you back

"are there any strawberry drinks?" you blink up at him

geto looks like he's thinking for a second, trying to remember the usual drinks his best friend caters, before he nods, "yeah there are. want me to get you one?"

you nod eagerly at him and follow him to kitchen. he had taken a hold of your hand when he noticed you were going to accompany him, he didn't want you to struggle getting through all those people.

he had been bent over to look through a cooler on the floor before he stood up and held out a strawberry daiquiri to you, "here."

"thank you." you nod before you jump and sit on the countertop so you could rest and drink

you notice geto doesn't have a drink in his hand when he leans against the kitchen island in front of you.

"you didn't want a drink?"

geto shakes his head calmly, "gotta drive back."

"oh." you remember his motorcycle from earlier near the garage and strike another question so he doesn't know that you know he has a motorcycle. incredible logic.

"what kinda car do you have?"

"ah, not a car, a motorcycle." he smiles slightly, the answer was humble

"oh~"you drag out–as if it was new information to you–and continue drinking from your bottle.

"you have a ride back home though?" geto asks, crossing his arms over his chest so he could be more comfortable while listening to you.

"uhh," you reach for your phone and see a message from your friend asking if it was okay for her to go to McDonalds with her crush, "well I was going to uber with my friend, but she just had a change of plans."

"I can take you home." he offers genuinely, tilting his head in await for your answer.

"In your motorcycle?!" you blurt out

he starts laughing heartily at your answer and smirks at you when he speaks again, "never been on one?"

"no." you shake your head, a bit intimidated, "what if I fall. im literally naked im gonna get cut up by the road."

geto smiles at you, "that's a fair concern, but I'll give you my helmet and let you borrow my jacket, it's big, it should cover you up a bit no?"

although the alcohol leaves your brain empty, you think it over which involved nothing but staring at him in supposed 'thought' before you nod, "okay."

"can I give you my number? so you can send me your address?" geto asks, shuffling a little bit closer to you

"mhm." you hand your phone to him and watch as he types away into your phone before he hands it back to you. when you stare back at his contact name, suguru geto, it makes a dawn of realization wash over you.

"you don't know my name, rig–"

"y/n."

you do a double take at how fast he says it and his eyes crease at your reaction.

"what?"

"you get involved in the lectures a lot." he takes note for you

"oh." you sink back into yourself

"do you know mine?"

you shyly respond with a, "yea, you get involved a lot too..."

"good to know." he grins a little, watching as you take the last sip of your drink and gesturing back towards the dancing scene, "wanna go back?"

"yeah." you confirm softly, taking the hand he gives you so you can get off the countertop smoothly. and when your feet touch the ground, you yelp, "ow ow ow ow!"

the hour of pure dancing and jumping around had not been a good rival for your new and tall heels. they were a height you had walked before, but the shoes themselves were new and not worn in, causing a great deal of pain across your entire foot.

geto held you by just below your armpits, the worry he had seeping through in his widened eyes and his leaning over to see if he find out what was wrong with you.

"what's wrong?" he asks quickly

"the heels," you scrunch up your nose in pain and sigh, "they hurt like a bitch now that I got a bit of rest."

you can tell geto feels bad about your pain by the way he grimaces for you and plants you on the countertop again. he suddenly kneels down and begins to work at the clasps of your heels.

"you can borrow my shoes. that sound alright?" he looks up at you from where he's at, already sliding one of the heels from your feet.

you're quick to deny, "but what about you?"

"satoru and I are the same size, I can just ask him for a pair, he has a million."

you give in at his response, embarrassed, "okay."

"you want me to take you home now?" he lightheartedly smiles as he works on the other heel, "I think you can walk in my shoes, but dancing doesn't seem doable."

"well yea." you say dejectedly, a little frown etching itself on your face when he finally comes back up, his lips quirk up a little when he sees it

"wait for me here then." he says, putting your shoes next to you on the countertop before he walks off a little hurriedly to you assume gojo's room.

when geto walks you to his motorcycle, he takes your heels and puts them in the compartment box of it for you, then takes his helmet and immediately puts it on your head.

an 'oomf' leaves your mouth at the sudden weight of it and he looks a little amused as he starts working at the straps of it.

"there you go."

he smirks a little as he looks at the, very large in comparison to you, helmet, and picks up his jacket that he brought back from gojo's room to put on you.

"there we go" he sighs, almost like he's proud of himself and gets on the motorcycle, turning his torso a little to pat behind him for you to get on too.

when you get on and take in the feeling of sitting on a motorcycle for the first time, he's turned around and looking at his phone, pinching and zooming in on the route to your apartment.

"you actually live pretty close to me." he murmurs, noting what roads to take.

"yeah?" you yawn, laying your head on his back

"alright," geto says, starting up his motorcycle, revving it up a bit, "hug me tight okay?"

you nod sleepily and wrap your arms around him, brain so eased by the alcohol in your system that you don't overthink it, as if your sober self wouldn't be screaming and crying on the inside during this exact situation.

geto drives off at a decent pace, some part of you thinking that this might not be the speed he normally drives off and that he was taking it a bit slower just for you. you could feel him breathe in and out all throughout the ride, his chest and stomach were rising and falling underneath your touch. you fell half asleep on him halfway through it, managing to grasp onto him like a child with their stuffed animal, and unable to resist the heaviness of your eyelids.

you blink back to reality at the sudden stop of movement, the stilling air was no longer brushing past your skin and the noise of wheels screeching against the road was gone.

after geto helps you get his helmet off, he hangs it on one of the handles and takes your heels out of the compartment box.

"this is your place right?"

another yawn flutters past your mouth again and you hold out your pointer finger to say yes.

"alright." geto says, watching as you lead the way into and through your apartment and to your place. he had placed a ghost of his hand near your back in case you started to trip up from his shoes considering their size in comparison to your feet. the walk was quiet considering your focus on making it to your door and the overwhelming sleepiness dawning on you.

when you get to your door you slip off geto's shoes and them to him, taking your heels from him in return.

"thank you, geto." you hold try not to yawn again, doe eyes sleepily fluttering at him

"you can call me by my first name." he comments comfortingly, "and no problem. see you in class?"

"yeah." and this time you do yawn, again, before you open your door and walk inside, looking at him while you hold onto the frame.

"alright then." he looks down at you from across the doorway, one hand in his pocket, the other holding onto his shoes, "get some rest okay?"

"okay." you almost murmur, your bed calling out to you.

you get to class at the time you usually do the following class meeting. the weather forecast had been a little chilly, so you opted for a cozy, off the shoulder sweater. it was fashionable and you had been dying to use it the moment you saw the weather forecast the night before.

you're scribbling notes onto your iPad this time, going over lecture notes from your earlier class that day. there were some things you forgot to add and that's what you always used this time for before class started. you see the class start filling in minute by minute out of your peripheral vision as you do this.

your habit of pretending to not care about suguru's presence is still existent, so all you can see for a fleeting second when you look into your backpack for a mint is that he is indeed sitting at his normal spot with gojo.

there was no chance to look at him that day in class, he hadn't spoken, which wasn't really rare, sometimes you wouldn't speak in class either. you, however, did speak in class that day, the module that the professor was teaching that day had piqued your interest a great amount and thus called for a great amount of your interaction with the lesson.

by the end of class, you were setting quick reminders on the notes you had taken of what was the most important before you started packing your bag to leave. the sound of feet and shuffling to leave the class a bit noisy, but it could let you make out the distant loud voice of gojo, probably talking to suguru.

"I have been on my best behavior. I do not know what you mean by that Suguru." "No no no that was a favor, look where it got you." "Oh you are such a wuss."

It was only a little appealing considering the fact that you couldn't hear what suguru was saying and the things that gojo was saying didn't let you get any clues as to what they were talking about. oh well.

you wanted to go home and start studying for a test tomorrow, so you started walking out of class, past suguru and gojo's line of view.

you heard a smack, like one of them had hit the other.

and gojo's voice, "idiot."

you were sitting at your desk, going over the last of your test review when you felt your phone buzz across the desk and picked it up

suguru

hey

y/n

hi

suguru

you wanna take satoru's seat next class?

y/n

he wants to flirt with mika again?

suguru

not rlly lol.

y/n

?????

suguru

I think it'd be cool to switch desk buddies every once in a while ;)

y/n

lmaooo. I won't tell mika if that's what you're scared of

suguru

haha, that's not rlly the case, but just take his seat

y/n

okay?

when you go to class again that same week, you hesitantly take gojo's seat. there was no follow up text from suguru after you said your okay and it was a little off putting. of course it had only been that night and the day after that he hadn't texted again, but it was a little weird, especially for it being the very first text conversation he strikes with you. the only thing that had been exchanged between either of you in your messages had been your address to him from gojo's party.

there were no notes for you to go over, there was no test or important knowledge that you had to use soon in any upcoming classes, so you were left to wait for the class to begin while you aimlessly scrolled through your phone and watched people come into class.

three minutes had passed before suguru and gojo were walking into class together. gojo was rubbing his friend's shoulder rather roughly, a fang filled smile on his face as he said something to him. suguru didn't seem to mind it, like many things, his eyes still had that warmth they always had, but it looked like he had said something back.

gojo playfully shoved suguru forward by the back before he laughed evilly and walked to your original seat, if you were right, you could see his bright blue eyes flick to you for a second behind his glasses before he smiled at the girl he flirted with last week.

you look up at suguru as he finally gets to the seat next to you.

"hey." he sighs with a smile as he plops into the seat.

"hey." you smile only halfway, a little tired from staying up to finish a homework the night before.

"sorry about the cryptic texts." he starts to apologize, moving his chair a little closer to yours, "satoru took my phone."

ah. that's why it seemed so out of character

"it's fine." you reassure, "they were a little off putting to read."

suguru scratches at the back of his neck, "I'm sorry about that. I meant to text after but I felt awkward."

"really? about?"

for the first time, you see him stumble on what to say, hesitance obvious when he opens and closes his mouth for a painfully slow second before he manages to respond, "to see if you were coming to the party on actual Halloween night this weekend."

"oh." your mouth opens in a little oh, oblivious to what he really wanted to say, "I'm not too sure. my friend that I went to the party with is spending it with that same guy she left with. so I don't have anyone to go with. plus I already used my costume."

"what's wrong with using the playboy bunny costume again?"

you eye him, disappointed, and lean over to flick his forehead, "i...am not an outfit repeater, suguru. the people who saw me at last week's party are going to remember me and say 'she's using the same costume again, what a loser'"

he gazes back at you as if you pat his head instead of just flicking it, warmth and a hint of mischief seeping into his stare, "you're right, you did catch a lot of attention."

"what?"

suguru leans back in his seat and answers, "you looked beautiful. it was hard to ignore."

"for who?"

"for me and every guy with eyes at the party."

he seems calm and confident when he says it, but his cheeks and ears start to get a slight pinkish hue as he awaits your response.

you try to keep looking at him, fighting the need to look away and wait for the professor to start class, your flustered face saying all too well what you're feeling, "what am I supposed to say to that?"

"you don't have to." suguru moves forward, positions his feet to face you as well as his face, and puts his elbow on the table, slanting his body onto it a little, "The president of gojo's frat asked for your name. He really liked you."

"Zenin?!"

"You like him?" he asks, with the tone of a guy who would try to set you up with the president if you said yes.

you shake your head, gaze looking down in embarrassment, "no no. it just caught me off guard..."

"if you like Toji it's fine," he tries to lower his head so he could catch your eye again, speaking earnestly yet something about it sounds like it's fake, it's weird, "he's like a dog, treat him well and he's loyal. although he can be brutally possessive, probably the type to leave hickeys on your legs if you're going to be with him and wear a costume like the one from the party."

"no, I don't like him. he's not my type." you answer meekly, having felt a bit of pressure from his boasts of the frat president.

"no?"

"no."

and before he can continue with his intense conversation again, you're saved by your professor, dramatically entering the class and bellowing for all of you to pay attention to him.

when your class ends, you try and succeed at scampering away from suguru before he can get a word out. as if she possessed magical powers, your friend called you the moment your professor ended the lesson. within the millisecond her name popped up on your phone, you grabbed at your phone at put it to your ear.

"hello?"

"hey hey! I have a question!"

you pay no mind to suguru as you haul your backpack over your shoulders and begin to walk out of class.

"what's up?"

"do you want the extra halloween costume I bought? levi is taking me to dinner on halloween for our date and I won't get to use it."

"the fembot costume?!"

you can almost makeout the banter between suguru and gojo a way's away behind you as you walk down the concrete steps of the building.

"yeah! you can go to gojo's party in it!" she beams, before her voice gains a bit of malice, "you can dance with motorcycle guy again~"

"go there by myself?" you groan, almost wanting to stomp your feet on the pavement beneath you

"lots of girls go by themselves to parties!"

"well I've never done that." you grumble

"aw come on. use the costume and go for me. pretty pleaseeeee."

"I'm going to give you a reason to be scared on halloween if this goes south for me. got it?"

it's cold when you get to gojo's party and you're beyond psyched out of your mind. from the unbelievably slutty costume that let everyone see your naked body in panties due to sheer babydoll material and the fear of coming across a very handsome suguru or toji zenin, who as handsome as he was might be able to seduce you, but you didn't want him like you did suguru.

you're more conscious of the stares now, due to suguru's previous comment and the fact that this costume was way more revealing.

on instinct you rush to the kitchen and get a strawberry daiquiri like the one suguru got for you exactly a week ago. you didn't want to get drunk tonight considering you came by yourself, so reaching for the strawberry vodka again was not within your list of options.

your eyes were on high alert as you pushed yourself through the countless bodies dancing, trying to remain unseen.

it doesn't give you cause to hide for some reason, considering he's suguru's friend, but you see satoru strut to the kitchen in a slutty firefighter costume. he was wearing the pants and boots, and nothing on top but a set of suspenders. classic.

however, you do a double take when you suguru geto wearing that same exact costume. you swear you feel your eye twitch in frustration when your eyes see his hair finally down, splayed across his back and chest, and get a peek of a tattoo tracing his spinal structure, bone for bone, going all the way up his back until it gets interrupted by his hair. his arms are practically calling to you when he fist bumps a toji zenin wearing a prisoner costume, they flex and bulge at the action. his abs are all perfectly prominent and–

he just made eye contact with you.

you hadn't gojo walk up to him and whisper something into his ear, probably that you were here.

fuck you satoru gojo.

suguru smiles immediately and turns to walk to you, leaving you to stay in place and not run away from him.

"you bought another costume?"

"no," you feel your chest heave at the sight of him, breath getting caught in your throat with his very shirtless self right in front of you. it makes you look off to a girl dancing behind him when you continue, "my friend gave me hers because she didn't end up dressing up."

"you want me to bring zenin?" he points a thumb behind him, towards the kitchen, face the definition of calm and suave.

you glare at him this time and take a sip of your daiquiri

"what? feeling shy?" he smiles down at you, if he weren't such a peaceful seeming person, you would have said it was condescending

"I'm not into zenin." a tinge of irritation already seeping into your voice.

"you sure?" he moves closer to you, your face right smack in front of his chest.

"yes." you jut your chin at him, done with his shenanigans

his lips twitch a little when he tugs your strawberry daiquiri out of your hands, grabs you by the neck, thumb close to your chin, and says, "open your mouth." he immediately starts to chug from your daiquiri and the thought of realization dawns on you of what he was about to do.

you open your mouth and he pushes his body closer to yours as he spits the drink into your mouth, his eyes solely on yours as he does it besides for when he briefly looks at something or someone behind you rather haughtily. he's still holding you and intently watching when you swallow it down immediately. that familiar happy crease of his eyes sketched itself across his face after.

you're heaving a little, star struck by the action the both of you just committed, "what was that suguru?"

"scaring off zenin. you don't want him right?"

his eyelids flutter a bit, something yours did whenever they were sleepy and it makes you search into his eyes more. your curiosity dying when you see the sudden red veins clouding the whites of his eyes. and you push him off.

"are you kidding me? you're high?"

"and drunk." he smiles, not minding your pushing him off and still inserting himself into your personal space again.

you try to speak and can't, solely out of irritation at the fact that he did that because of his intoxicated state. you bite your lip to stop yourself from overreacting and settle for shaking your head.

"you don't like guys who smoke?" he asks, genuine concern laced with his stupid crossed persona at the moment, "I tend to never smoke, but satoru passed me his joint when I was already at the 'whatever happens' point of a tequila bottle ."

"I really don't care about that in a guy, as long as he's not a musty constant weed user that can never cope with his life." you roll your eyes at him slightly, "but you just spit alcohol into my mouth because you're crossed as fuck."

"no." he scoffs, now entirely entranced in his conversation with you.

"yes."

"I spit alcohol into your mouth so zenin wouldn't come up to you."

the response makes you cross your arms over each other, "a simple 'hey she's not into you like that' would have sufficed."

"where's the fun in that?" its a serious question for him, you can tell by the way he patiently waits for your answer

irked, you look up at the ceiling while biting your cheek, trying to gather yourself again before you say, "sober up geto." and turning to walk away.

you made it your mission to stay hidden the entire party, having entered the deal with your best friend that if the night turned sour for you, she would come with her boy whatever to pick you up in his car

after their date.

which wasn't going to end until an hour or two.

the garage had stayed open to the enormous frat house, although there weren't any people in it. people had respected the space, leaving the miscellaneous in it untouched such as the two cars and...suguru's bike.

you eyed it from the rather comfy bean bag in the darkest corner of the garage, feeling a fight or flight instinct at the mere glimpse of it whenever you looked up from your phone.

it had been almost two hours since you last suguru and you were striving to keep the streak going on longer.

"told you I'm going home satoru." a wary and very sobered up voice says when they open the door to the garage, "I drank enough water, I'm sober."

it's suguru.

there is no stagger in his step and his posture is refined as he walks to lean again the trunk of the car furthest from you and closest to his bike. you remain hidden due to the cars covering you from his line of sight as well as the sheer darkness of the corner.

he's wearing a shirt now, another black one, and he rakes his hands across face when he gives a defeated sigh. you hoped he wouldn't notice you.

this was your Friday the 13th movie for sure.

suguru pulls outs his phone from one of the spacious pockets of his fireman pants and he starts to type away immediately. there's a slight buzz from your phone seconds within the action.

suguru

are you still here?

I'm sobered up now.

he shoves his phone back in his pocket after. and you watch as he stays where he is, crossing his arms across his chest while he waits a good five minutes for you to respond, which you don't do. he gets his phone out again after and taps something randomly before he puts his phone up to his ear.

buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz

the strong buzzing of your phone on your thigh make a ricochet that gets's fine tuned ears pick up quickly.

"y/n?" he's shining his phone's flashlight on you, squinting his eyes just a little to try and make you out.

nervous, you mutter, "what."

suguru turns the light off and sighs, walking to your corner, his eyes already getting adjusted to the darkness.

"why didn't you answer me?"

"do you really not know the answer?"

"you're right." he sinks down in front of you, sitting down on the floor and brushing a stressed hand through his hair. his legs are stretched out and basically manspread even though he's not on a chair.

"satoru didn't text you to switch seats with him because he wanted to flirt with mika" he comes forth, both of his hands laying across his knees.

you're confused, "but–"

"it was a wild attempt of his to help me talk to you again." and he laughs, a burst of energy randomly gracing the intense air. suguru raises a hand to rub at the back of his neck while his chest and stomach ricochet and his teeth peek out from his mouth.

"truth is, I really like you." he's still smiling.

the declaration makes you stare blankly at him and a million goosebumps rise across your entire body.

"if you don't feel the same in that regard it's fine of course." he reassures, back to his normal calm self, "I just thought it would help explain my behavior."

"since when?" you peep

"our first class meeting," suguru seems a little bashful at the confession

"I have for a couple of weeks now too." you meekly profess

suguru seems genuinely surprised, his eyes widening, "you have?"

"why do you sound so surprised?" your brows knit.

"it felt like you didn't know I existed until last week." he grins followed by a small huff of humor

"oh...that," you trail off, embarrassed, "I thought pretending you didn't exist was the best way for you to not know I had a thing for you..."

"satoru is far smarter than me in that aspect." he says, "he insisted that you were doing that when I told him."

you giggle a little, "he read me like a book."

suguru hangs his head for a second and groans, still joyful, before he whips his head up and gazes at you, "I apologize for having never gathered the courage to approach you before. I have Satoru to thank for even getting me here with you in the first place."

"it's fine." you shrug, pulling at your own fingers, "we're here now aren't we?"

"we are." he agrees before leaning over. suguru grabs one of your hands and brings it to his lips, placing a soft kiss onto it while his eyes never leave your own.

"want to go back to the party?" you muster past your nerves, focus solely on the warmth of his hand still holding onto yours.

suguru shakes his head lightly, "I'm enjoying it being just the two of us right now. do you want to?"

"no, I like it here too."

theres a moment of silence, where both of you stare at the hands that the both of you have connected until a strong breeze passes and flutters the thin material of your babydoll up and makes you shiver strongly.

"let me." suguru says as he hastily gets up and gets his leather jacket that's hanging from his motorcycle, then brings it back to you, helping you tuck your arms into the sleeves and get comfortable in it.

he's above you when he does it and you can see the small glances he tries to avoid giving your body, especially at the sparkly pink thong peeking through the see through material of your costume. suguru is making sure his jacket is on your properly when you call out to him suddenly.

"suguru."

he doesn't get the chance to respond when he looks back up at you and you pull him in by the material of his shirt to kiss him.

he reciprocates within seconds, after the surprise wears off and places a hand on your thigh, the other next to your head and grabbing at the beanbag. his lips are soft and have no remnants of alcohol on them, a smooth flavor of his skin and flesh meeting your tastebuds when he dips his tongue into your mouth. it elicits a groan from him when you whimper at the contact.

he pushes as much as he can into your space without falling and you follow suit, trying to lift yourself as much as possible off the beanbag to meet him.

a particular whimper has suguru pulling away from you and pulling you up by the arm so he can maneuver you to sit on the trunk of the car next to you. when he plops you down onto it, he slots his torso between your thighs and pulls you for an even deeper kiss. his hands have a strong grip on your thighs as he keeps you against him and you can feel the distinctly large throbbing of something against your panties through his pants.

"are–mmmm–you hard?" you ask through kisses

suguru can't help the grind of his bulge against your core when he answers and keeps kissing you, giving small nips to your lips, "yes."

your eyes are closed into the kiss when your hands navigate to the waistband of his pants, about to reach for–

"not here." suguru mutters and keeps both of your wrists clamped under one of his large hands.

you pull yourself away from his lips and heave, a pout of sexual frustration illustrated on your eyes and lips. "okay."

he raises a hand to caress your cheek as he smiles fondly, "what?"

"nothing."you look away for a quick second, leaning in to kiss him again after.

suguru stops you before you do though, clamping one of his hands against your mouth while the other holds the back of your head.

he's smiling even wider this time, "now what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you touch me before I get to touch you?"

you slouch in his hold, too upset by the fact that you couldn't touch him or go back to kissing him to care about his words.

"you know, even satoru couldn't keep his eyes off of you in this little costume of yours." he looks down for a second so you could too, "god knows what toji was thinking. I saw the tent in his pants when you took my spit and booze like a good girl."

suguru sees the way you shift your hips for a smidge of relief at his words. "are you my good girl?" he leans his forehead across yours, hand still on your mouth. you try your best to let out a muffled 'mhm' and incessantly nod your head, eyes pleading and hands gripping onto his shirt.

"are you going to answer the phone when I text you next time?"

you give him the same answer again.

"god." he warily eyes you, gaze wandering towards the outline of your breasts and the rest that wasn't covered by your thong, "you're so beautiful."

the hand at the back of your neck trails down and moves some hair away from your shoulder, then ends up holding you by your lower back as suguru leans down and starts to mouth at your neck. he starts off small with his intentions, simply placing soft and subtle kisses, eliciting a ticklish response from you until his lips become searing and he goes in with the intent of leaving hickeys on you, it makes you squirm and suguru lets you, it's not like you can break away from his touch anyway. you use your legs to keep him caged in and closer to you eventually after the third 'pop' you heard coming from his mouth on your skin, it makes him audibly laugh for a second too.

you tug at the hand on your mouth, expecting for the task to be hard considering his build, but suguru lets his hand fall away easily and hold onto your thigh.

"what are you thinking pretty?" he asks mindlessly before going for the opposite side of your neck

"mmmm–about how good–mm–this feels."

"yeah?"

"mhm"

"tell me what you want to do. do you want me to drop you off at your place after this?" he blows on your most recent hickey and smirks when he sees you jump a little, "do you want me to get you food?"

"I want–ah!" suguru bites into your neck fairly hard, enough to make you moan and yelp at the same time, "I want to spend the rest of the night with you at my place. can we watch a scary movie?" the suggestion is simple and it isn't to hook up with him, although that's what you want more than ever now, but you don't want him to think you're that desperate so its what you settle for.

"couldn't imagine a better halloween than that." he smiles

you're under suguru, on your bed later that night, the movie you had been watching was long forgotten and the t.v. was turned off the second things started to get out of hand. it wasn't his fault no, suguru's a gentleman and when you said you just wanted to watch a movie, he was just going to watch the movie with you. you were the instigator. after you had been cuddled into his arms, near his neck, you decided to place a few loving kisses...that eventually turned into what this was with suguru getting up to take off and throw away his shirt while you hastily yanked off the long gloves of your costume.

he was needy, grinding his hips into yours the moment he came back down to kiss you.

"you have no idea how fucking bad I've been wanting you." he mutters, hissing when a particular rub pleases him the right way

it makes your back arch, "I think I do suguru."

"really?" he groans into your mouth, "you touch yourself to me like I do for you?"

"yeah." you sigh, clinging onto him even more, splaying your hand across the soft skin of his back.

"move your panties to the side."

when he feels your hand move down and follow his directions, suguru moves his down too and slides a finger across your soaked folds.

"fuck, this pussy is so wet for me. were you even trying to pay attention to the movie?"

"yes, I was." you complain, and whimper when he starts rubbing circles across your lower lips, gathering your slick for added stimulation after every rub.

he separates himself from kissing you to look down at his ministrations, mouth opening in a soundless moan at the sight.

"listen to this sloppy fucking pussy." he rubs faster and you start to jerk your hips up by natural defiance at the stimulation, but he holds you down "no, let me touch you baby." he says sternly

your breathing starts to pick up and you feel that familiar knot that only you can give yourself starting to build up in your stomach and suguru notices, looking up to smile at you.

"are you close angel?"

concentrated on the feeling, all you can do is nod your head and he speeds up his pace at it, garnering close to wanton moans from you and screech like whines.

"come on come on, cum for me pretty girl, cum cum cum cum–fuck, atta girl." suguru talks you through it, mouth opening in awe at the sight of your body going limp and your breathing slowing down, his cock even twitches at how cute it is that your legs kick a little when you cum too, he thinks he'll be able to keep them still when he gets make you cum on his cock.

you start to hiss at the overstimulation when he keeps rubbing your clit after your high, "'s too much suguru."

he doesn't stop, "you want to stop now then?"

the shake of your head makes his eyes light up and bite his lip with a grin, "then just let me keep going."

it takes all of your strength to lean up with one of your elbows and grab his wrist with the other, obvious strain written across your features when you huff, "I want you inside me."

like he knew that was what you wanted, suguru's grin grows wider, "are you sure?"

you nod your head in confirmation, followed by suguru saying, "so cute." before he gets up and pushes his pants and boxers down in one swift motion and climbs on top of you, manhandling your legs by pinning them to either side of your head into a mating press.

he lets his cock teasingly rub up and down your folds while he leans down to nip at your ears, "let's leave your little costume on yeah?"

you nod and make a face when his tip catches on your entrance

suguru lifts his hips at your confirmation and pushes his tip in, savoring the way you're beginning to invite him inside you.

" 's so big sugu." you whimper in shock at the larger than expected intrusion

"never taken a cock this big?" he pulls out and pushes in again a little deeper

"no." you rake your hands down his arms

suguru laughs, "good thing I'm here to provide then right? see, look at you creaming around me already."

the words make you look down at where you both meet and when he pulls out again, you can see the ring and slick on his dick, it makes you shiver.

"I'll–make–this–little-fucking–pussy-take–me." he punctuates each and every one of his words with a thrust that pushes himself deeper and deeper inside you until you can fully feel his tip grazing your cervix and every vein on his dick ridging against your walls from how girthy he is.

every sound that comes out of your mouth after is incoherent when suguru starts to punishingly pummel into you and god does he keep talking to you.

"you look so pretty taking this dick baby. god, you sound even cuter than I imagined. you like getting stretched out like this? fuck, take it take it take it. wish I could make you sit on it, you'd look so cute trying to ride me."

it's all so much, especially when every thrust is accompanied by a moan or groan of his or with a sentence.

"couldn't fucking wait to get home after the party last week too. wanted to rip off that costume and fuck you till you couldn't even scream. and when you wear those skirts with pantyhose to class?" suguru groans, "all–I–can–think–about–is–bending–you–over–and–stuffing–this–pussy–with–my–cum."

"suguru!" you squeal, "im–I'm gonna cum!"

suguru tightens his hold on your thighs at the admission and starts jackhammering into you, "cum around me baby. let me fuck you through it." it almost sounds like he's starting to beg, "just cum for me, cum for me, cum–"

a silent scream leaves your mouth and you trash in suguru's hold while he keeps his furious pace.

"so pretty, angel." his eyebrows knit as he watches you orgasm and feels you clamp down on him. it has his peak lurching across his body and his thrusts grow erratic as he starts spurting his cum into you.

he leans down to kiss you as his cock twitches inside of you, leaking his cum into you each time.

at the end of the kiss, the both of you are heaving against each other, smiles on both of your faces until you erupt into laughter and giggles.

suguru is still inside you and places a loving kiss on your forehead, swiping away your sweaty baby hair, "you're cute when you cum. you kick your legs a little, I like it."

the confession has you trying to shy away and suguru laughs again, caressing your head, "why are you shying away? you wore this costume for everyone to see just a couple hours ago."

"well this is you telling me you think the way I cum is cute, its quite different than guys looking at my thong." you shakily grab onto his shoulders

"I suppose so." suguru nuzzles into your neck, "do you have a bath?"

"yeah."

"let me start one for us then." he pulls out and both of you look down at your lonely entrance until his cum starts to leak out. suguru seems entranced and you can see his cheeks start to gain a red hue accompanied by the blood starting to rush to his cock too.

suguru looks back at you the moment you do too. you reach a hand out to him and he crawls back on top of you.

"we can do that later right?"

"right."

[cheriecoke]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ LEAVING LIPSTICK STAINS ON LEVI

fem!reader, sfw, fluff, you leave lipstick all over levi before a mission and the scouts find out, just something super cutesy & short while i work on some longer pieces hehe, pls ignore errors lol, 1.3k words

“promise you’ll come back in one piece?” you say, smoothing the wrinkle between levi’s brow with a kiss. 

he glances up at you from under his lashes, crinkling his nose as a short, breathy laugh escapes him, one he tries to subdue. still, he can’t deny the happiness that slips onto his features, not when joy is so fleeting because of the life that the two of you live. 

cold hands run across your back, down to your hips as you straighten his collar, kissing his sharp cheekbones, the bridge of his nose. “i’ve made it this far, haven’t i?” levi mutters, squeezing your sides gently before shifting you off of his lap.

he lifts you, sets you on the edge of his desk, causing some of the papers that erwin had dropped off earlier to crinkle. a smile graces your lips as levi stands, stretching his limbs behind him, the chair pushing away from the desk with a creak.

“i’m going to be late because of you,” levi remarks, eyes narrowed playfully, but he gives you another kiss on the lips, lingering there like it’s painful to pull away.

“then stop kissing me.” your hands splay across his chest, but you don’t push him away, feeling his heart beat under his ribcage, the melody that you will always come back to. still, levi tugs your hips forward, slots in between your legs, and kisses you even deeper. “it’s time for you to go, captain levi.” 

a heavy sigh weighs against your mouth, his exhale warm as he pulls back. “sounds like you want me gone.” 

“of course i don’t.” your voice softens as you play with his fingers for a moment, before he's tugging them away gently, withdrawing from your figure. “i'm going to have to find someone else to sleep next to while you’re away."

normally, you would’ve been going with levi and the rest of the scouts, but an injury from your last mission prevented you from going on any more for a few weeks. 

levi snorts, putting on his jacket, fixing the leather straps across his chest. “is that all i’m good for? killing titans and keeping your bed warm?”

you make a face at him, then shrug, half-hearted as he stares back at you with amusement. then, you laugh, cheerful and free; you know levi will come back to you. he has no other choice. 

levi makes his way towards the door. 

“levi?” 

he turns, the lipstick stains still visible on his cheek, dark against his pale skin. for a moment, you wonder if you should tell him—if he’d be mad if you didn’t. 

but then you remember he’s going to meet with a squad of fifteen year olds that have all almost died alongside him. if they really have a problem with their captain being loved by you, then they don’t care about him as much as you thought. 

you smile and shake your head, voice holding just enough mischief for levi to notice. “just be safe. i love you.” 

he softens. there are times where levi is hesitant to say the words, still worried you will be taken from him. but this is not one of those times. not when you will be separated for days, his life once again in danger. “i love you too, sweetheart.”

within ten minutes, levi is down to the first floor, pushing into the room where the members of his squad are already waiting. 

he’s only a minute late, but he feels like they must have been waiting for hours, the way that they are all gawking at him with wide eyes, connie’s jaw faltering slightly. “everyone here?” levi asks, doing a quick scan of the room, counting heads like he’s their babysitter. 

no one says anything. eren’s eyes look like they might bulge out of his head, and jean covers his mouth, looking away as him and sasha let out a stifled giggle. 

levi’s mouth draws into an even thinner line. “what the hell are you snickering about?" he grumbles, looking at each of them individually, wondering who will be the first to confess. 

their eyes dart away dramatically, faces red. even eren, who is normally more obnoxious than the rest, seems to have run out of words to say. 

his eye twitches; levi wonders if connie’s head might burst, or if sasha’s laugh will rip out of her first. 

“well?” levi asks again, snapping, already tired of this mission. a hot cup of tea sounds nice, in bed next to you.

armin, as usual, is the one to speak up when no one else has anything intelligent to say. “well, sir,” the blonde says, gesturing towards his own face. “i think…”

levi touches his cheek, remembering all the places you’d kissed him earlier, wearing that pretty black dress and your dark lipstick. a sigh leaves him when he pulls his fingers away, the tips coming back, smeared with a deep red. 

he should've known.

“i see," levi says, staring for a moment, before meeting eren's eyes, his lips finally widening into a grin.

“ooooh," eren sings, his expression smug as mikasa elbows him, her own features pinched tight. "the captain’s in looooove."

levi knows they are expecting a reaction, a spectacle of the fact that he adores you. but he’s never kept it a secret, and he’s certainly not ashamed of all the things he feels for you. 

“and what if i am?” levi asks instead, pointedly staring eren down as the rest of the scouts watch the exchange. “honestly, i am surprised no one noticed sooner.”

eren’s jaw falters a bit; a small wave of silence falls over the scouts. you and levi don't make a point of hiding your relationship, but really, levi shouldn’t have been surprised that no one in his squad was observant enough to notice. 

or so he thought, anyway.

historia’s smaller, high-pitched voice breaks up the quiet, repeating your name back to him, as if affirmation that you’re the one he kisses goodnight. a silly question really, considering levi has never looked at anyone else with the same kind of tenderness. 

“it is her, isn’t it?” historia asks, smiling softly. “i only know because you’re always holding hands under the table when you think no one can see.”

levi raises his eyebrow. “clearly we were wrong about that.” though, of all the things to notice, he thought it’d be the way you kiss him after every mission, the way he’s harder on you than anyone else because he doesn’t want to lose you.

eren shrieks your name like he’s never heard it before, and levi is starting to wonder if the boy actually is an idiot. his old squad had known immediately; petra caught you sneaking up to levi’s quarters when you thought everyone else was asleep, kissing him on the cheek when you thought everyone's back was turned. 

it’s been a long time since then, he supposes. maybe the years have taught you subtlety. 

“how long have you been together?”

“does she actually like you?” 

“do you—” connie makes a lewd gesture with his fingers. “you know.” 

“connie!” jean shouts, whacking him on the back of the head. “what do you think! dumbass.” 

“hey!" connie says, rubbing his head. “geez. i just can’t picture it.” 

"i’d rather you didn’t." levi’s face turns sour, disturbed by a room full of teenagers discussing his private and romantic life. “bring it up again and i’ll leave you outside of the wall on the next mission.” he pauses, crosses his arms with an exasperated exhale. “and she likes me just fine. at least, she has for the past five years.” 

“five—” 

a new wave of questioning starts and levi pinches his temples, shakes his head, the red smear of lipstick still on his face.

levi almost wishes you could’ve been there to field the questions instead. you’ve always been better with the kids, connected with them a lot easier than levi had.

even if it was would’ve exposed his lovesick eyes, the tiny lift of the corner of his mouth when you were around.

he’s never been very good about hiding it anyway.