#or our cream puffs

[kuulpenguin]

Cream Puffs <3

[theinternetisaweboflies]

The "anti-lonliness" Moomin Bakery & Cafe where you could eat your meal with a giant plush Moomin closed earlier this year, and I am definitely not crying about it.

[deadboystims]

lovecore stimboard for 1000 days with my boyfriend!!!!!!!!!

ᯓ★ x x x , x x x , x x x

little surprise heho :3

[cr0wc0rpse]

Supposed to help my mom make fig honey ice cream. So excited

[vxnuslogy]

— retail therapy. ft sunday

— warnings: slight angst if you squint hard enough

— author's note: self-indulgent stellaron hunter sunday after playing the new tb quest. ~2.4k words.

“is this…” sunday gestures with his hands, “also part of our script?”

you let out a laugh. balancing firefly and kafka’s shopping bags in your hands, you only shook your head at the angel-like man with an amused smile on your lips. 

“no, it is not.” kafka was browsing the dress sections with keen interest, blade was peering over silver wolf’s shoulder watching her as she played yet another video game, and firefly was looking over the rack of new hats. “but it’s a good change of pace. you all deserve to relax after such a hard mission.”

“i don’t think this really fits my criteria of relaxation, [name].” you only laugh at sunday’s sigh. offering him a small pat on the back and dragging him by his sleeve to where kafka was beckoning you over. “you’ll get used to it eventually. next time, we’ll do something that fits your criteria of relaxation.”

the silver haired man only shook his head. but deep down you knew he was enjoying himself – the wings behind his ears often betrayed him by openly showing what he actually felt. every now and then, they would flutter and puff up whenever silver wolf drags him to another section with new games or when he tries to deny kafka’s attempt at getting him a new shirt or coat (after his wings fluttered a bit too hard at this one coat kafka bought it immediately).

“what do you think?” you ask as you put down the bags that've been weighing down on your arms. “about us, i mean, are you adjusting well?”

you notice sunday’s hesitation, you always have when it comes to him – he often wonders how wise and knowledgeable you are to know how he felt. a hum left your lips as you sat down on one of the offered chairs at the shoe section while blade reached to the top shelf to get what firefly was pointing at. 

“i…” he starts, voice just above whisper. “don’t know.”

another hum escapes your lips. scooting over to make space for him and patting the space, urging him to sit besides you. sunday does, though reluctantly, sit beside you as you watch silver wolf giggle at firefly’s struggle to walk in heels. blade’s hands hover over her figure as she stomps her way over to the shorter girl to pinch her cheeks to which she protested.

“they’re nice people.” you say, gaze never leaving them. “the galaxies may say otherwise, but they're truly the kindest people i have ever met.”

“i… apologize.”

you raise a brow at him. “what’s with the apology?” 

“i have only ever thought of the five of you as bad people.” sunday admits with a heavy heart. eyes finding much entertainment on his gloves that you had gifted. “i… do not know how to act around you all, when i’ve only ever heard bad things about you. it feels wrong to suddenly be thrusted into your already tight knit group.”

you only hum in understanding. hand coming to caress the top of his head when you stood up when blade called you over.

“we understand, mr. sunday.” you gave him a small smile as you picked up the many shopping bags you had. “these sorts of things take time, just take it one step at a time.”

he only nods. and like the gentleman that he is, steals away the heavier bags in your hands with an awkward smile.

—

“do you miss the person you were before you joined?”

you wonder if blade has ever mentioned to sunday how you loved thought evoking questions like the one he had just asked. recently, the two have been paired up a lot for missions - you’re still on the fence on whether it's a good or bad thing, but you’re leaning more towards the former. you only gave a thoughtful hum as you spooned another scoop of ice cream into your mouth.

kafka had grown bored of the dresses and shoes and wanted to get something to eat. now here you were, outside a quaint little ice cream shop as blade orders for everyone - silver wolf and firefly hiding behind the man like two kids. 

sunday was sitting in front of you, laughing silently after catching a glimpse of the two tables across from you being filled with your shopping bags. you laughed as well and when your eyes met his, sunday quickly averted his gaze towards his own cold treat.

“do i ever miss the person i was before i joined…” you echo his question. “sometimes, in the middle of the night whenever i’m feeling a bit too sentimental, i do.” a fond expression was probably present on your face as sunday hummed in acknowledgement. “i miss the comfort of my bed as i scrolled endlessly on my phone. or how a certain little creature in red would bring me tea and biscuits when i let time pass in my little workshop. i miss them every chance i get.”

yes, every chance you get, you reminisce over your past life. missing your father’s quick temper, your brother’s indifference, your mother’s absence; you missed them all, despite all their flaws and the bitterness that swam in your heart. and of course, how could you ever forget your little escapades in different planets with a seasoned adventurer and his vast knowledge of animation and travel or the little waddling of a conductor as they scold you nearly not making it back. you missed them all very dearly.

“what about you, mr. sunday? do you miss penacony?”

“would it be wrong of me… if i said no…?”

admittedly, that was the exact opposite of what you thought his answer would be.

the six of you were now in the car with you and blade driving (firefly suggested you all take two cars so you won’t have to be squeezed together in one). silver wolf was fast asleep at the back seat, using the many shopping bags as her makeshift pillows. you and sunday sat at the front, keeping a close eye on blade’s red car in front of you as you pondered what you would say next.

“i don’t think that’s the whole truth, but it’s not an entire lie either.” was your only response. from the corner of your eye, you see sunday take off his gloves and lay them on his lap. “would you like to talk about it, mr. sunday? i’m quite the exceptional listener you know.”

sunday laughed at your jesting and that made the breath you were unconsciously holding escape you. 

“penacony, as beautiful as it was,” he fiddles with his fingers as his wings came to cover half his face - a habit you picked up on whenever he started to open up. “it was simply too much for me.”

staying silent and when sunday looked at you, you simply nod. urging him to continue.

“the flashy city lights, the ever echoing of upbeat music, to many, penacony is a paradise where nothing could go wrong,” sunday sags in his seat, “but i often wonder if it ever gets too much for them. even though i have lived my entire life in the land of festivities, i could not bring myself to enjoy the thrill and joy it offered.”

“no matter how many times i bury these feelings of guilt, they always resurface whenever…”

“whenever?” you slowly try to coax it out of him. like how a parent would to their child.

“they always resurface whenever… i find myself enjoying your company too much.” you try to hide your shock when you take a right turn. “is it truly alright for me to just leave all of penacony behind? as overwhelming it was, it offered a roof over my head. food on my table. a family.”

soft patters of rain as small droplets of water cascaded down the now slightly fogged up windows of your car. “would you like my personal opinion on this matter, mr. sunday?” the car skids to a stop as the traffic light glows red. sunday only nodded solemnly. “you have every right to not miss penacony.”

his gold eyes were furrowed in distraught. gaze boring into the side of your head as the car started moving again. “yes, penacony offered a roof over your head and food on your table, but everyone has that right. even us, stellaron hunters, the most wanted criminals across star systems, have the right to have a home. did penacony ever feel like home to you, mr. sunday?”

“no. not it has not.” sunday replies after a few moments of silence.

“just because a roof is over your head and food is served on your table doesn’t automatically make it a home.” your eyes hardened, grip on the steering wheel tightening ever so slightly. “a home is supposed to make you feel safe, not obligated to repay their so-called “kindness”. you don’t have to feel guilty for not wanting to come back to the place that had caused you pain.”

“and what of my sister, robin?” he suddenly counters. you knew from little snippets from kafka that robin was a bit of a sensitive topic with him. “am i really allowed to enjoy this new life of mine knowing that she’s still in the family’s clutches?” his voice hardened, but at the same time it quivered and broke. “what right do i have to this newfound happiness when she could be struggling? for aeon’s sake,” he messily pushes his hair away from his face. you try not to focus on the stray tears that fell from his eyes, “i’m her older brother, her protector. she should be the one here, spending time with you and enjoying the life she’s always wanted.”

“miss robin is destined for greatness and a happy life,” stopping at another traffic light, you look over to sunday, “but so are you. i do not know the pain and turmoil your adoptive father has made you go through, but you will never be free if you keep holding on to the past.”

“i don’t think being a stellaron hunter and a wanted criminal is what you call greatness.” sunday jokes with a low chuckle making you roll your eyes.

you trained your sight on the road again. “it’s not easy to break out of whatever gopher wood has taught you,” the way you spat his adoptive father’s name with such venom made sunday wonder if you had personally met him. “but if, theoretically, we had offered you to join us earlier and to sneak you out of penacony, miss robin would be the first person to urge you to take that chance. you are her older brother yes, and it's often the oldest’s job to protect the younger,” you pull up your car in the parking lot as blade, kafka, and firefly started taking the shopping bags out of the car. “but she is still your sister that wants what’s best for you, even if it means leaving penacony behind.”

the sight of blade, a man with a harsh exterior and few words, silently carry silver wolf with such care will always stir something inside of sunday. or how kafka would happily chat with firefly over the new clothes they got on today’s shopping list, promising to do a haul tomorrow morning after the older woman cooks everyone breakfast. but if there was something that pulled at his heart the most, it would be you. 

you who kindly respected his space and unwillingness to talk or socialize with the other hunters when he had been first recruited. the same you who had made him the metal wings that was now attached to his lower back - created with so much care and attentiveness sunday felt unworthy of it. you who would always be the first one to look for him whenever you were going out and extending a hand for him to take.

“everyone deserves to be happy,” you say beside him as you drop him off at the door to his room. “and that includes you, mr. sunday.”

sunday had always been treated as someone who was above everything else, that was the first thing he was taught after all. he was destined for greatness, the key to the revival of his dead aeon. so he never truly knew how to act when someone treated him as an equal. someone neither above or below anyone.

“i’m not very good with words,” sunday scoffs, thinking otherwise. “so i often convey my sincerity and comfort through actions.”

sunday feels your hand slither to the back of his neck as you slowly pull him down to your height. forcing his beating heart to still when he looks into your eyes that swam with understanding and fondness when you press both of your foreheads together.

“you can enjoy your time here, with us. you’re allowed to let go of the past and miss your sister.” your thumb rubs soothing circles on his nape, sunday feels the hairs on his arms rise. “and if you still think otherwise, then that’s also fine. breaking free from the shackles of your past isn’t easy, but you shouldn’t give up.” sunday feels the way your words leave a warm ticklish feeling on his lips, he had to fight the urge to lean into your space even more. “we want you to be happy, we want you to be here with us. so we’ll teach you how to let go. until you can do it yourself.”

sunday has seen you do this to others; after you patch up blade after a nasty fight, when you welcome kafka home, when silver wolf comes to you after a nightmare and when firefly bares her heart out to you. he finally understands why the others stuck to you closely, they showed their appreciation for you in forms of physical affections. 

involuntarily, his arms snakes around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer he feels you may decipher the way his heart beats your name. “may we stay like this for a while?” you only hum slowly when he lays his head on your shoulder. letting your comfort wash away all the guilt and frustration, even if it was just for a moment.

you catch a glimpse of kafka leaning at one of the dark walls with a knowing smile on her lips. rolling your eyes at the older woman, you bid sunday a good night with a small smile. knuckles brushing right under his eyes where phantom tears had fallen. in your mind, you can’t help but feel that your little idea of taking him shopping to brighten up his mood was a success.

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[rafesangelita]

what do you think would be in each !reader's bags?! <3

₊˚⊹♡ bambi!reader:

the queen of trinkets!! she carries a little sylvanian families’ figurine that reminds her of rafe, two little vials that contain the flowers rafe first picked for her, vanilla lipbalm, her favorite book, a jar full of buttons she swears up and down will come in handy one day (she’s always using them to replace the buttons on rafe’s shirts), change she’s found on the ground, necklace pendant that she lost the chain to, strawberry coin pouch that she ironically doesn’t put to use, earbuds, a little note rafe gave her from when they first started dating, hairbrush, brown floral hair pins, and perfume

₊˚⊹♡ pogue!sweetheart!reader:

lover of all things pink, she carries a pink compact mirror and pressed powder, a small notebook so she could write down orders for anyone who might ask, mini pink hair brush, strawberry shortcake flavored lip gloss (rafe’s personal fave), cardholder that rafe gifted her, cable lock to her camper (rafe is getting the actual lock on her door replaced soon), chocolate macaroon coin pouch she bought from the thrift, pink hairclips, sparkly nail polish, individually wrapped cookies that she gives out (despite rafe eating most of them), silver locket with a picture of her and rafe together <3, a rosary even though she’s not religious she keeps it bc the church she donated baked goods to gave it to her, a dollar folded in the shape of a heart that rafe made for her, vanilla perfume, and her favorite blush

₊˚⊹♡ kook!sweetheart!reader:

our chanel girly <3 she carries a digital camera that rafe can never escape from (he loves it), rhode lip treatment is a must have, small notebook so she could journal wherever she is (and repeatedly write rafe’s name in cursive with a heart at the end), black chanel headband that rafe randomly surprised her with, small makeup bag with all of her essentials, cuticle oil and hand cream so her mani’s always look fresh, polaroid of rafe bc she loves him soooo much, reading glasses, dior keychain (rafe got ‘sweetheart’ engraved on the back), bobby pins because she NEVER has a hair out of place, diy queen has a little altoids box wallet, mascara of course, and a hair bow!

₊˚⊹♡ farmer’s!daughter!reader:

this firecracker carries a pack of marlboro reds (they belong to rafe), her and rafe’s love letters when they had to hide their relationship from her daddy, heart shaped sunglasses of course, a vintage camera that she has no idea how the thing still works, her signature red lipstick, her red apple mascara that she swears by, peppermints because she’s an old soul at heart, a little mixtape that both her and rafe made together so they have something to listen to when they go on their evening drives, red nail polish, bottle caps from her and rafe’s first date, a multi-purpose pocket knife (she can never be too prepared), a wallet that’s older than her, cherry cola lipgloss, a pocket watch her dad gave to her, red gingham hair bow, her fav lana del rey cd (rafe also knows the lyrics word for word), and a box of matches.

₊˚⊹♡ latina!kook!reader:

our sweet angelita carries body glitter (which always ends up rubbing off on rafe), tropical scented perfume, floral hair clips, ALWAYS keeps a pair of sandals to change into when her heels become insufferable, a gifted dior wallet from rafe <3, a seashell that rafe picked up for her, fruity lipgloss, shimmery tanning oil and sunscreen (for rafe mainly lol), traditional fan, pink dior sunglasses, dior highlighter palette, various jewelry, SOMETIMES she’ll pack fruit for her and rafe to snack on when they on an impromptu beach date..

₊˚⊹♡ bitchy!kook!reader:

kildare’s very own regina george carries a powder puff, her signature eyeshadow palette, victoria’s secret card (rafe keeps it loaded at all times), vivienne westwood lighter (for when her and rafe have their little smoke sessions), poison dior perfume that rafe goes absolutely crazy for, dior lip oil, her lucky vintage chanel charm bracelet, touchland hand sanitizer, hair clips, black compact mirror, and a mini makeup bag.

₊˚⊹♡ bitchy!pogue!reader:

this mcbling queen carries her childhood ipod with all of the early 2000’s hits downloaded on it, some earbuds, a flip phone that she uses as her ‘work cell’ (rafe helped her bedazzle it), a hello kitty mirror so she could make sure her makeup is always looking fresh, hello kitty credit card (courtesy of rafe, of course), a stack of her own cash, fluffy tiara she keeps forgetting to take out of her purse, rhinestones she uses as body stickers, pink digital camera (rafe takes all of her insta pics with it), sunglasses she found at the thrift, a vape (she’s just a girl), sparkly lipgloss, and her favorite lashes.

₊˚⊹♡ sheep!reader:

the gentlest thing on kildare island carries a crochet case that she made by herself (she crochets on the golf cart while rafe and topper play on the course), a precious moments figurine, a small tub of cookies for the kids, lemon scented hand cream, patches that she still needs to sew on a pair of jeans, an envelope with rafe’s recent love letter (he writes them everyday and sends them through the mail to be ‘extra’ romantic), a calico critter that was gifted to you from one of the kids at the daycare center you volunteered at once, your fav pink teddy bear, homemade hair bow, a sun hat, and a strip of pictures rafe took at the mall.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Just to Learn That You Never Cared

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Synopsis: always leaving class together to go fight crime leads people to think you’re dating when in reality you’re barely even friends. That is, until you agree to fake a relationship to keep your secret life a secret

requested/idea by @usoppsstar

Masterlist

“Oh, hey. Your girlfriend left this in class.” One of Peter’s classmates said as he tossed Peter a hoodie.

“Oh. Thanks.” Peter said before realizing what the person had said. He turned the hoodie over in his hands and recognized it as yours. His face warmed up in a blush when he realized you had just been mistaken for his girlfriend. He shoved the hoodie into his bag and wondered if he should tell you or not.

Peter saw you later that night on a rooftop you frequented often. You were in your suit, as was he, but had your mask sitting beside you. You were munching on a bag of chips and wordlessly extended them to him when he landed on the rooftop beside you. He smiled graciously and took a few before sitting down next to you. Your knees were touching but neither of you moved away.

“You left this in physics, dingus.” Peter said and handed you your hoodie.

“Oh, thanks. We had to run out of there so fast to save that lady. I must’ve left it behind.” You smiled gratefully and pulled it over your head. Peter felt bad that his high tech suit had built in heaters and your homemade suit was probably leaving you freezing every night. He wanted to suggest sharing his warmth, but he didn’t want to overstep.

“I know. Thank God she called the police on those kids for selling lemonade without a permit. I’m really glad we left a test to go witness that heinous crime.”

“It’s not all bad. We did get to see the cops arrest her for wasting their time by making a fake police report, which is always satisfying. And the kids gave us free lemonade. But I think calling it “homemade” was bullshit. I know Minute Maid when I taste it.” You replied, making Peter chuckle.

“You’re right. Both those things were enjoyable.” Peter agreed. “But I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I feel like we have to leave class every other day.”

“I know. Why did we have to pick a college in such a Karen ridden neighborhood?” You sighed.

“Because we wanted to go to the good school with the good science program. We should’ve known the neighborhood would be full of bored housewives who call the police whenever they have a minor complaint. It was our own hubris.”

“It was.” You chuckled and said looked over at him. You exchanged soft smiles before you looked over at the city horizon. Peters eyes never left you and he cleared his throat to get your attention.

“So, uh, my aunt and I were gonna get Chinese food later. At the place that got shut down for being a front for money laundering but that was really just a front for a second Chinese food chain.”

“Oh, I love that place.”

“Yeah. It’s great.” He nodded. “Anyways, you should totally come-“

Peter was cut off by the police radio he wired to his phone going off. He rolled his eyes and checked what the alert was.

“Damn it. Robbery at the bakery on 9th.” He told you.

“Lowkey, I’d do the same. Their cream puffs made me cream.” You said as you put your mask back on.

“Haha, yeah.” Peter chuckled. “Wait, what?”

“You should get some sleep. I’ll handle the robbery. But I’ll catch you tomorrow, Parker. Get home safe.” You saluted him before falling backwards off the building.

“I love you too.” Peter sighed.

“Did you say something?” You asked and popped back up.

“No.” Peter quickly lied.

“Okay. Well, see you tomorrow.” You waved to him and disappeared again. Peter let out another sigh before swinging home.

The next day, you ran after one of your classmates once class was let out.

“Hey, Carly. I emailed you my notes from the class you missed.” You told her.

“Thank you so much. You’re a life saver.” She replied. “Oh, and could you tell your boyfriend that band practice is in the gym today?”

“Yeah, sure. No problem.” You agreed. She was about to walk away when you realized what she had said.

“Wait, what am I saying?” You wondered. “Who’s my boyfriend?”

“You know. That guy with the prescription shoes.” Carly answered. You tilted your head in confusion until you realized you knew exactly who she was talking about.

“Wait, Peter?” You laughed in surprise. You expected her to laugh too and reveal she was just kidding but she looked completely serious.

“Oh, right. Peter. Why do I always think his name is Timmy?” Carly wondered.

“Because he looks like a Timmy. He gets it all the time.” You waved your hand. “And his shoes are not prescription. He just bought women’s platform shoes because he wanted to be taller and didn’t think anyone could tell.”

“We can.” Carly mumbled.

“I know.” You agreed. “But, I’m getting off topic. Timmy is not my boyfriend. I mean, Peter is not my boyfriend.”

“Whatever label you guys use, can you tell him that wind ensemble is meeting in the gym instead of the choir room? The sopranos kicked us out again to practice or do drugs or something.” Carly explained. You furrowed your eyebrows at her and tried to figure out if she was joking or not.

“The label? I’m so lost. Who told you that Peter’s my boyfriend?”

“Nobody told me.” She shrugged. “Everyone just knows that you guys are a couple.”

“Well how would they know something that isn’t true?” You asked and folded your arms.

“I mean, it’s not like you guys try to keep it a secret. Between all the whispering and staying close by each other. Plus you’re always sneaking out of class together or showing up late. And if one of you is absent, the other always is too. It’s been like that since high school. People just put two and two together I guess. Why, did you want to to be secret?”

“I didn’t want it to be anything. We’re not even dating.” You insisted and felt like you were going crazy.

“You don’t have to deny it.” Carly laughed. “I know feelings are weird and gross and stuff and you’ve never been the relationship type, but I think this guy is good for you. He brings something out in you. I don’t know. But you guys are cute. I love seeing the nice loser and assertive pretty girl troupe in real life.”

“Oh. Well, thank you.” You calmed down momentarily and smiled a little. Carly walked away and your smile quickly faded when you remembered what she had said. You looked around the hallway and saw another student holding an instrument.

“Hey. Band nerd.” You called out to him.

“Me?” He asked and pointed to himself.

“Yes, you. You had to let go of your saxophone case to point to yourself. Have you seen my boyfriend today?” You asked him.

“Peter? I haven’t seen him since yesterday in-“

“That sentence better not end with “wind ensemble” or I’m gonna lose it.”

“It was wind ensemble.” He said quickly.

“I’m leaving.” You shook your head and walked away from him. You pulled out your phone and went straight to your schools “campus sweethearts” page on instagram. Sure enough, there was a picture of you and Peter sitting next to each other right at the top of the page. You had your head thrown back laughing at something he was saying and he was looking at you fondly. You let out a shocked gasp and before walking out into the courtyard to look for Peter. You spotted him on a bench and smiled.

“Yes. Thank you, small campus”. You pumped your fist and went to sit next to him.

“Oh, hi. I was just thinking about you-“

“Someone is spreading a horrible rumor about you.” You cut him off.

“Oh no.” Peter frowned. “What is it? Is it bad?”

“Horrible.” You shook your head. “Peter, they’re saying you’re in wind ensemble.”

“Oh, I am.” Peter shrugged.

“Huh?”

“I play the clarinet . See. Clarinet.” Peter said and lifted up his little black clarinet case.

“Huh?” You said louder.

“I used to play in high school, pre-bite but post 9/11. I saw a flyer for orchestra on campus so I joined.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” You practically shouted. Peter knew you weren’t happy but felt strangely honored that you were so upset over him not telling you something about her personal life.

“Because I know how you feel about band nerds.” He replied. “And you and I don’t really talk about non-work related things. I didn’t think you’d care.”

“Are you kidding me? Of course I care.” You insisted. “My rumored boyfriend has been in wind ensemble this whole time and I didn’t even know?”

“Wait, rumored boyfriend? Who, me?” Peter asked in surprised.

“So you didn’t know about this either?”

“No. I mean, someone did refer to you as my girlfriend the other day but I thought it was just an accident. People think you and me are dating?” Peter asked and tried not to look as pleased as he felt.

“Apparently. I’ve had multiple people refer to you as my boyfriend today. And look. We’re on the campus couples Instagram page.” You said and held up your phone.

“Ew. We have one of those?” Peter grimaced and took your phone to see the picture better.

“Yeah. I honestly think the principle runs it.” You replied. Peter was quiet as he stared at the picture for a while.

“What?” You wondered.

“Nothing. This just a cute picture of us. And I think the only picture of us.” He said with a shy smile. You frowned and looked at the picture again before realizing he was right.

“Carly said people think we’re dating since we’re always sneaking off together.” You told him. Peter thought out this for a minute and then made another connection.

“Ohhhh.” He said and nodded his head.

“What?”

“This explains why the boys congratulated me on the bus back to New York after the Washington monument trip for losing my virginity at a historic landmark.”

“You lost your virginity on that trip? To who?” You whispered harshly and felt jealousy burning through your veins.

“You, apparently.” He laughed. “You and I disappeared to get the glowy alien egg bomb thing back and I guess everyone assumed we were off desecrating a national monument.”

“Oh my God. That was like 3 years ago.” You realized. “People have thought we were dating this whole time? We need to put a stop to this.”

“Yeah. You’re right. Or…” Peter trailed off and gave you a look.

“Or?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Or, we lean into it.” He suggested. “We let people think it. We encourage it, even.”

“Why would we do that?”

“People have been suspicious about where we go and what we’re doing since high school. We can only fake so many illnesses and I ran out of grandparents to lie about the death of by junior year. So if people already made up a reason, maybe we should let them think that. We don’t have to go out of our way to confirm it but we can keep the assumption going to keep them from finding out what we’re really doing.”

“So you think we should let people think we’re dating so they stop wondering about what we’re always off doing?”

“That’s exactly what I just said, yes.” Peter nodded.

“Hey. Be nicer to your fake girlfriend.” You said and smacked his arm.

“I’m sorry. I will.” Peter blushed and rubbed his arm. You felt bad for hitting him and wrapped both arms around him to rub them up and down. He smiled softly at you and you sat in comfortable silence for a moment.

“You play the clarinet?” You asked after a minute.

“Squidward made it look so cool.” Peter shrugged.

“Did he?” You asked, making Peter laugh.

“No.” He admitted.

The next day, you and Peter walked to school together with the understanding that from then on out, you were going to play the part of a happy couple. You weren’t going to go around announcing it to everyone or anything. You just needed to convince the few that didn’t already believe the rumor and confirm things for the ones who did believe it.

“You ready for this?” You asked Peter as you stepped into campus.

“I think so. Maybe we should hold hands or something. You know, since people think we’re dating.” Peter suggested and tried to make it sound like it didn’t matter to him.

“I guess so.” You shrugged and held out your hand. Peter eagerly took your hand and took note of the way it fit in his like it was made for him.

“This is weird.” You whispered to him, popping his bubble.

“Why? Are my hands sweaty?” He panicked.

“No. Just really, really hot.” You told him. “It’s just weird that nobody seems to care that we’re holding hands right now.”

“I mean, we are just two random people with almost no social presence.”

“That’s true. I guess I just thought people would care more.” You admitted as you looked around the campus. No one was phased by you and Peter, but he was too busy enjoying the moment to realize it.

“Are you disappointed?” He asked you.

“Yeah. I wore my best bra because I thought I’d be getting more attention today.” You frowned and adjusted the strap of your bra.

“It’s okay. I’ll take one for the team and stare at your boobs.” Peter assured you.

“Aw. Thank you.” You gushed and gave his hand a squeeze.

You got to your physics class and sat together at your usual lab table. Peter looked around the classroom while you carried on as usual.

“Maybe I should put my arm around you. You know, to really convince people.” Peter suggested with a shy blush on his face.

“Is that really something people do?” You genuinely wondered. “I feel like I never see couples with their arms around each other.”

“Actually, I don’t think I have either. But let’s try it anyway.” He said and wrapped an arm around you. You scooted closer to him so that you could comfortably lean into him. You quickly realized you didn’t hate it and let out a content sigh.

“Hm.” Peter made a little noise at the back of his throat.

“What?” You asked him.

“Our height difference makes this hurt my shoulder.” He leaned over to whisper in your ear.

“Then move your arm.” You whispered back.

“I can’t. I just wrapped it around you. It’ll look weird if I immediately take it off.” Peter said as he covered behind him to see who was looking.

“Or, consider this. Nobody in this entire city, and dare I say world, cares where your arm is right now.” You whispered harshly.

“Fine. I’ll remove it. But I have to give a reason.” He told you before loudly clearing his throat.

“Ah. Sorry, babe. I can’t cuddle you right now. My arm is sore from band practice.” Peter said loud enough for everyone in the classroom to hear him. You hung your head in shame and heard people murmuring about his strange comment.

“Oh God.” Peter gulped. “People are looking. They’re gonna know something is up. I have to put it back.”

He went to put his arm back around you but you stopped him before he could draw any more attention to the two of you.

“Just do this.” You whispered to him and pulled his stool closer to you and turned towards him a little. Your knees and were touching and you were now facing each other.

“That’s it? No one can even see this.” Peter said in disappointment. He thought being your fake boyfriend would bring you guys closer but you were sitting the way you always sat in class.

“It’s not about what people can see. It’s about proximity.” You explained. “We’re sitting closer together than anyone else is without being egregious about it. It’s a simple touch. If we’ve been together as long as people think we have, we don’t need to be wrapped around each other all the time. A simple touch to let the other know we’re there is all we need.”

Peter was silent as he stared at you following your explanation. He stared for so long that you felt yourself blush under the eye contact.

“What?” You asked him.

“I like the way you explain things.” Peter said simply. You quickly looked down so he wouldn’t see the effect that comment had on you and took a moment to collect yourself.

“It’s just something I thought of.” You shrugged.

“I know. But I never would have thought of that. Especially not as naturally as it did for you. You’re so quick.”

“Thank you.” You laughed shyly and found yourself unable to look away from him. Peter opened his mouth to say something to keep the momentum rolling but his phone interrupted him.

“Shoot. Sus-tivity on the b bridge.” He whispered.

“What the hell does that mean?” You asked at full volume.

“It means there’s suspicious activity on the Brooklyn bridge.” He rolled his eyes. “We have to act fast so I didn’t have time to say the whole thing.”

“But you just said the whole thing. And the abridged version. So it took twice as long.”

“Shh.” He waved his hand. “We gotta go.”

You reluctantly collected your things and took Peter’s hand to pull him out of his seat. Peter followed you out the classroom but the teacher cleared her throat when you walked by.

“And where are you two going?” She asked. You and Peter exchanged looks as the class snickered and murmured their theories about what exactly you were heading off to do.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Pepper. My girlfriend and I have to leave class unexpectedly. Please excuse us. It’s urgent.” Peter’s said politely.

“I bet it’s urgent, Parker.” A boy snickered, making serval classmates laugh.

“Gross.” You wrinkled your noses and looked at the boys in disdain.

“Fine.” The teacher sighed. “The only reason I don’t write you two up for skipping so often is because you somehow have the best grades in the class. Go on. Just get the homework done.”

“We will.” You assured her before leaving the room with Peter. Peter noticed that you didn’t drop his hand even when you were alone in the hallway.

“Hey, you know that teachers name is Dr. Zhang and not Dr. Pepper, right?” You asked him.

“Oh my God.” Peter gasped. “Is it really? I’ve emailed her so many times and said “Dear Dr. Pepper”. We have to drop out.”

You laughed and held his hand the rest of the way out of the building.

That night, Peter laid in his bed with his phone held close to his face. He had been trying to figure out what to text you to let you know he had been thinking of you.

“I had fun fighting crime with you today” He wrote out. He read it over before scrunching his nose.

“No. Too cringe. She is not gonna fall in love with someone that says “fighting crime”. I’m not Paw Patrol.” He said like it was obvious. He deleted his text and thought of another one.

“I had a good time today, we make a good team” He wrote out instead. He read it a few times until he found issue with it.

“Oh, you had a good time stopping those break dancers that were obstructing that Sbarro? That’ll catch her attention.” Peter said sarcastically and deleted the text.

“have a goodnight :)” He typed out and then shook his head.

“No. Wayyyy too horny.” He sighed and deleted it again.

“night” He wrote out and read it a few times.

“This is good. I can work with this.” He nodded. He was about to workshop it when a text from you popped up.

“pick a color” It said. Peters heart skipped a beat at the vague message and replied with the first color that popped into his head.

“blue”

“thank u” You wrote back within seconds. Peters heart stopped pounded and the disappointment that the conversation was over settled in. After all these years of fighting crime together, you two never really managed to make it past the coworkers stage. He was desperate for more but never knew how to get there.

“no homo but I had fun fighting crime with you today” You suddenly texted again. A smile tugged at Peter’s lips and he touched his as if it were your face.

“ok paw patrol” He wrote back. Back in your room, you were laughing at his text and trying to think of a witty reply.

“ur mad bc you know I’m the chase 🐶” You texted him.

“if ur the Chase then who am I?”

“plssss ur such a marshall” You wrote back.

“but that’s the third most important dog :(“ Peter replied.

“well yes but he’s cute and wears red so the little paw patrol shoe fits” You answered. A blush painted Peters cheeks over you calling him cute but he didn’t want to read too much into it.

“Im wearing red right now😳” He texted back.

“oh I bet you are” You answered, making him laugh. He kept the conversation going for about an hour before duty called once again. Peter groaned and put his suit on before swinging to the scene of the crime. He met you there and stopped the crime before stopping on a nearby rooftop to rest.

“These burglars aren’t very considerate of our sleep schedules. Who robs a Jersey Mikes after midnight? Or, like, ever?” Peter huffed as he tugged his mask off.

“I know. They’re always at inconvenient times. I was in the middle of painting my nails.”

“Can I see?” He asked in a soft voice. You pulled your gloves off and held out your hand for him to see.

“Look. Blue. But I only got half way through before Mike’s was targeted.”

“It’s okay. They still look pretty.” Peter complimented you with a soft smile.

“Thanks. You picked a good color.” You replied.

“What do you mean?” He frowned.

“I told you to pick a color. This is why.” You explained and held out your hand again. His eyes lit up at this new information and he took your hand to see your nails closer.

“You let me chose your nail color?” He smiled fondly.

“Well I didn’t know what to chose so I thought I’d ask the audience.” You shrugged and felt shy all of the sudden.

“Oh. And I’m the target audience, huh?” Peter smirked and turned towards you.

“I never said target.” You teased him and shoved him shoulder.

“I must be hearing things, then.” He shrugged as you both smiled.

“Yeah. Must be.” You said in a soft voice as you stared into his eyes. Peter gulped before making a bold move and taking your hand again under the guise of looking at your nails.

“Look at you. You even got my favorite shade.” He noted.

“You like “Eating For Blue”?” You pretended to gasp.

“Is that really the name of the color?” He laughed.

“Uh huh. It was apart of Essie’s baby fever collection. I almost chose “All In Blue Time” but that’s one tends to get little air bubbles and they give me agida. And I used to have “A Dream Come Blue” but it rolled under the sink so it belongs to the dust bunnies now.” You shrugged as you checked out your nails.

“Wow. This is all new information to me. So, are all nail polish colors named after puns and wordplay?” He asked as he stared into your eyes. He didn’t really care, but he was finally getting somewhere with you and didn’t want it to end.

“In my experience, yes. Not always color related wordplay but always something that makes you go yeah, I guess this shade of beige is what the word “ladylike” would be as a color.”

“This is blowing my mind right now.” Peter chuckled.

“You mean blue-ing your mind.” You corrected and tapped the side of your head.

“I think you inhaled too many of those fumes. Because that was not funny.” Peter said through a laugh.

“What?” You pretended to be offended. “You’re literally laughing right now. I’m so funny.”

“You are.” Peter admitted when his laughter died down. You stared into eyes for a minute before smiling.

“Is that what you rumored saw in me?” You asked him.

“Probably.” He chuckled. “I also heard a rumor that I think you’re really pretty. Like, the prettiest girl I was ever rumored to have allegedly seen.”

“Now you’re the one who’s looney from the fumes because that’s a straight up lie. I know you’ve seen prettier girls because I was standing right next to you when Anne Hathaway left that diner.” You said without making eye contact with him. Things were moving a little too fast and you needed it hit the brakes for a second.

“Oh, yeah. You’re right.” Peter forced a laugh and awkwardly looked over at the cityscape when he realized you were politely telling him to pull back.

“But I appreciate it.” You said after a beat of silence.

“Of course. Sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking saying that.” He laughed nervously. “I was just getting caught up in the fake dating. We’ve been doing it for so long that it felt real.”

“We only started this morning.” You reminded him.

“Right. Well, it’s late. I’m gonna go home.” He said quickly and stood up. He had just blown that and needed to leave as quickly as possible.

“Okay. Goodnight. See you at school.” You called after him. Peter swung home with tears in his eyes and went straight to bed, missing your text about having fun fighting another crime.

The next day at school, Peter decided to start over and push last night from his mind. He played the part of your boyfriend to the best of his abilities and opened every door, pulled out every seat, and carried ever book for you all day long. Then he did it the next day, and the day after that. He kept his mouth shut about his feelings day in and day out no matter how painful it was getting. You and Peter had finally moved past the coworker stage and become real friends so he didn’t want to sabotage it all by telling you that he spent his days wishing for more.

“What are your plans tonight?” You asked him one day as you walked out of class together.

“My aunt is going out with her friends so I was probably gonna watch a movie on my couch. But on my laptop with my earbuds in. Likely in my boxers. Likely with an entire package of Twizzlers. Why?”

“Well I was gonna suggest that we hang out but you sound booked.”

“Really? You want to hang out?” Peter asked with much more enthusiasm than he intended.

“If you want. I’m not doing anything as exciting as boxers and Twizzlers.”

“I would love to. I’ll put on pants for you. I promise.”

“Sounds good.” You laughed. “Text me your address, okay?”

“Sure. Or you could walk with me now. Unless you’re tired of me and need a break before we hang out.” Peter suggested as you left campus together.

“It’s funny you say that. I was just telling my mom the other day that I never get tired of you.” You said casually.

“You..you don’t?” Peter’s face heated up as he followed you down the sidewalk.

“I don’t. I usually need a break from other people if we’ve been together awhile but it’s different with you. It doesn’t feel like I’m using my social battery if that makes sense.“

“It makes sense.” He smiled shyly as your hands bumped against each others. He was about to make a bold move and take your hand despite no one being around but you suddenly moved it to hit the crosswalk button.

Back at Peter’s apartment, he awkwardly gave you a tour and wished he had picked up his clothes before leaving the house that morning. You didn’t seem to mind the socks and boxers strewn across his room because you were too focused on all the little things he kept on his shelves. You picked up a picture frame of your freshman year high school class that had you and Peter seated right next to each other. Your friendship had only just begun so you often forgot how long you knew him for.

“So this is your room.” You smiled and put the picture back.

“Yup. This is where the magic happens.” Peter said and immediately cringed at himself.

“Oh really?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. This is where I practice magic. Wanna see?” He asked and picked up a deck of cards. You laughed and went over to take one.

“Is your card the ace of spades?” He asked.

“Queen of hearts.” You snorted and turned the card around.

“You’re the queen of my heart.” He whispered.

“Did you say something?” You asked as you looked at all his Legos.

“I asked what you wanted to do tonight.” He lied.

“I don’t know. We have the place to ourselves. We could do something rated R.” You said with a coy smile.

“Like what?” Peter gulped.

“Watch an R rated movie, you perv. Your aunt isn’t here to stop you.”

“You remember me telling you that I’m not allowed to watch R rated movies in the living room anymore?” Peter blushed at you remembering something he had randomly told you long ago.

“Are you referring to the time you watched Tusk at full volume while she had her friends from work over for the first time? How could I forget?”

“In my defense, I didn’t know what the movie was about. And I didn’t think her friends were gonna come into the living room and see that guy getting turned into a walrus.”

“Yeah, the title and cover art gave no indication that the movie would end that way. But that’s not a bad idea actually. Let’s watch something scary.”

“Okay.” Peter agreed and followed you out into the living room. He turned off the lights and got some snacks while you picked a movie. He hated scary movies but he was not about to tell you that. Instead, he sat on the couch beside you as a respectful distance and handed you a bag of chips. As the movie went on, you got closer and closer to each other. Peter had never really seen you scared before but you were practically in his lap just 40 minutes into the movie. You reached into the bag of chips at the same time as Peter and your fingers touched. You both froze and looked at each other as your faces heated up.

“Shit. I’m not wearing a condom.” Peter sighed, making you yank your hand out and laugh.

“You’re stupid.” You laughed and turned back to the movie just as a jump-scare happened. You screamed and jumped closer to Peter.

“This is so scary. Why did I pick this movie?” You asked as you drew your knees up and leaned into his side.

“Yeah, same.” He replied, not even listening. He couldn’t hear anything over the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. You were cuddled into his side with your head on his shoulder and knees in his lap with a blanket drawn up to your nose. He knew you were only cuddling him because you were scared but it didn’t even matter at that point. The movie went quiet for a minute and then made a loud sound, sending you to burry your face into Peter’s neck.

“Tell me when it’s safe to come out.” You whispered into his ear. Peter gulped and wrapped an arm around you to fully protect you from the movie.

“I will.” He said in a soft voice. You peaked your head out a few minutes later but stayed nestled into Peter’s side. You realized his arm was around you and smiled a little.

“Oh, this isn’t so bad.” You shrugged as the main character got eaten alive.

“I don’t understand you.” Peter chuckled and looked down at you. You laughed as well as you looked into his eyes. He was about to say something when another sharp sound from the movie caused you to jump.

“Hold my hand.” You blurted and grabbed his hand. Peter happily accepted and clasped your hand before holding it under his chin. You stayed in that position for a long time and watched the movie. You were both so focused on the screen that you didn’t hear May opening the front door and coming in.

“Hey. I’m home.” She said, making you both scream.

“Oh, hi May.” Peter greeted while he realized it was just her.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Parker. I’m-“

“I know.” She smirked. “I’ll just be in my room. But, Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“No going in your room with the door closed, okay? I’m home. And we have thin walls. Just keep that in mind.” She said, making Peter turn bright red.

“Got it, May.” He mumbled. She winked at you and disappeared into her bedroom.

“You told your aunt we were dating?” You whispered to Peter in confusion.

“No.” Peter answered honestly. “I guess she just assumed we were.”

“Wow. She’s just like the kids at school.” You shook your head. “I don’t get it. Why does everyone think we’re dating?”

“I mean…” Peter trailed off and looked down at your clasped hands. You hadn’t realized you were still cuddling and quickly jumped off of him. Peters heart sank and the longer he sat in the absence of your body heat, the more upset he felt.

“You just jumped off of me like I was sharp.” He said without looking at you.

“I didn’t want your aunt to see us cuddling and think-“

“And think what?” He snapped, cutting you off. You gutted your head back in surprise and let out a nervous laugh.

“Woah. What’s going on with you? She already knows about your secret life. We don’t have any reason to pretend we’re dating in front of her.”

Peter stared at you for a long time as the word “pretend” cut into him like a knife. Every time he thought you were going somewhere, he was reminded that it didn’t actually mean anything to you.

“Yeah. You’re right.” He mumbled and looked at the movie again. You kept your eyes on him and felt guilty. You had so much to say to him but you felt unable to speak.

“Peter-“

“I don’t think we should pretend to date anymore.” He blurted, cutting you off once again. Your eyebrows went up in surprise and you got a sick feeling in your tummy that you had just ruined something really important.

“What? Why not?”

“It’s stupid. No one even cares anymore.” He shrugged. “We don’t have to fake a breakup or anything but I don’t want to hold hands or play along anymore. I’m done.”

“What changed?” You asked in a soft voice. He was still looking at the movie while you were fully turned to face him.

“Nothing changed. That’s the problem.” He said and angrily got off the couch. You quickly caught his hand and he stopped. He looked down at the ground and let out a sigh. He knew it wasn’t fair to be mad at you if he hadn’t told you what was wrong. He slowly turned around and looked at you.

“Five years ago, you showed up to the same robbery at an all night CVS that I was at and I realized we knew each other from AP Spanish class because I had asked you earlier that day how to conjugate “poner” and you said “pusiste” and I laughed because I thought you were joking but you weren’t and then that night you heard me tell the burglar that he better“pusiste” the money back into the register.“ Peter began.

“Okay. Wow. That was a really long sentence.” You laughed softly. “But I remember that. I laughed and told you that you better remember that for the test.”

“You did. That’s how I knew it was you.” He smiled at the memory. “I failed that test, by the way. I still can’t conjugate “poner.” And I still think it means “boner” even though I know it’s a verb. But anyway, that night, I couldn’t sleep because I was so excited to have met you. Even though we technically already knew each other, that night put us in each others radars. I could not believe that I had met my match. You’re into science like me and sarcastic like me and you understand this side of my life because you have the same side. But despite running into each other on patrol almost nightly and seeing each other around school, I barely got you to notice me. I don’t think you even knew my name until we ended up going the same college. You called me “Timmy” all throughout high school.”

“You seriously look like one. It’s uncanny. I don’t know what it is.”

“I thought things would change when I found out we were going to the same college. The campus is so small I figured there’s no way we wouldn’t become friends. But even then, we hardly ever talked and when we did it was always about work. I didn’t even know where you lived until last semester.”

“I remember that too. The first night we really bonded was when you fell off that roof because you were trying to show me how to do a backflip.”

“Yeah, I’ve never been able to do a backflip.” He admitted. “I only said I could because you said you always wanted to learn how to do one and I assumed given my abilities I’d be able to do one if I just followed my body. But I busted my ass and you were kind enough to sneak me through your window and patch me up with some Scooby Doo bandaids.”

“It was all I had.” You shrugged.

“And you gave it to me anyway. Because you’re kind and compassionate and I’m just…I’m crazy about you.” Peter finally admitted. “I was so excited when we started hanging out more this semester but it always ended up crushing me when I remembered that we just doing it to keep people from finding out the truth. I really, really love our friendship and if I’m ruining it all by saying all this then at least I can die with it off my chest.”

“Wait, now I’m confused. Are you dying?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “It feels like I am every time you and I start to get close and then I remember this is all pretend for you.”

“So it’s not pretend for you?” You asked quietly. Peter stared into your heads for a minute and then shook his head.

“No. I was never pretending. I like you.” He told you. Your facial expression didn’t change as you stared back at him. Peter was really starting to panic until a smile tugged at your lips.

“Sit back down.” You told him.

“I’m sat.” He said and rushed it sit down. You nestled back into his side and laid your head down on his shoulder. Peter smiled and rested his head on top of yours, finally pleased with the way a conversation with you went. You both turned your attention back to the movie just in time for it to end.

“Hm.” You huffed. “That was supposed to be us symbolically finishing the movie as a real couple but it appears we’ve already arrived at the credits. Now what?”

“We could watch Tusk.” Peter suggested at the same time you said “We could make out.”

“I never actually saw Tusk but I always wanted to.” You gasped and hit his arm with excitement.

“Or we could do your thing.” Peter forced a laugh and tried not to sound as desperate as he felt.

“Let me see if I can find it.” You said as you scrolled through the streaming services on his TV.

“Or we could do your thing.”

Tag List 🏷️

@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@tom-hollands-wifey

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@peterparkoure

@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr

@emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland

@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave​ ​

@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant

@quaksonhehe @lovelessdagger

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona

@alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom

@pandaxnienke

@itsemohours

@freakofmusic25 @tomholland85

@olixerwxxd @leilanixx

@whereismytelephone @so-very-asleep @white-wolf1940

@spideyspeaches @hihiweezing

@mathletemadison  

@dhtomholland @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @prancerrparkerr

@hallecarey1 @adayasgeorgia @blackwidowisthebest @imawhoreforu

@ciarahollands

@nellabellaa @pinklxmonade @boogywoogywoogy

[oreo-creampie]

𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧’

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: caught maturbating, some mutual masturbating, begging, some fem Dom!reader, switch!toji, some teasing/heavy praise/light degradation, hints of jealousy/possessive, light oral, Daddy/mama/brat/sweetheart, some fingering, some cervix fucking, toji has a fat cock, overstimulation, size kink, light choking

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧: touch yourself for me w/ toji pls

Swinging open Toji’s door, “What do you-oh!” Fixing your gaze on Toji’s fat, veiny cock. Toji strokes fat cock slower, slipping his blunt between his lips.

“Don’t mind me keep stroking your fat dick.” Walking up to the edge of his bed, slipping off the shirt you’ve stolen out of his bedroom, dropping it. “I'll enjoy the show.” Holding his blunt out for you to accept.

Pushing your shorts down, getting comfortable on his bed. Spreading your legs apart, stroking your clit through your underwear. Taking a puff, smoke tickling your nose.

Toji’s cock is heavy drooping to the side when he slides his hand down. Smirking, you admire the scar on his lips, wondering if you’d feel it when sitting on his face.

Toji croons, “You came too fast after hearin’ ya name.” Gliding his hand up, swiping his thumb over his head. He’s massively thick, slightly above average in length. His cock is mouth-watering, cunt throbbing underwear soaking beautiful.

“You moan my name like a slut! If I was playing with my clit and I called your name our you'd take your sweet ass time?” Taking another long puff, passing it back to him. His thick finger brushing your’s.

Grabbing some lube, letting his cock go it falls with a soft plop that make your cunt clench. He’s so heavy. “Take your panties off and I might tell ya.” Tilting his head to the side, arching a brow.

“Touch yourself for me n’ beg then I will. I already know you’d be in there before I could finish calling your name.” The cocky look on his face slips, biting his lip. “Look at yourself, a handsome man like yourself with a fat yummy cock that could split anyone in two and thick balls begging to be drained of cum.”

Slipping your hand underneath, gliding your fingers between your legs. Smearing your slit on your clit. “Yet here you are on a Friday night thinking of me. How long does it take of you fucking me in your mind before you can't help it?” Toji groans stroking fat veiny, sliding his hand into his dark hair tugging. Rutting his hips up, he’s a desperate beautiful mess jerking himself off.

Begging, “Lemme see your beautiful cunt mama.” Blushing, Toji whines, “Please! I've been thinkin’ bout ya non stop. No one else gets my dick hard like you do. No matter how many times I touch myself, I see your sweet looking thighs, pretty face, soft lips and I want to make you cream and scream.” Letting go of his hair, grabbing a fistful of the blanket.

Getting off the bed, with your back facing towards him. Hooking your thumb into the side of your underwear looking back over his shoulders. His arm flexes, the veins in his forearm prominent, his cock is drooling thick white pre cum.

He’s a moaning mess because of you. “Please mama you wanna lemme use your sweet cunt to keep my cock wet n’ warm. I'll stretch her out, make her squelch and squirt have your eyes rolling back while your toes curl.” Slowly slipping your underwear down, bending down to pick it up. Turning around, tossing it to Toji.

Holding them to his face taking in a deep breath. “You smell so fuckin’ good n want you to sit on my face and drown me with your sweet super soaker.” Sucking on your underwear like a lollipop, licking it clean wrapping it around his cock.

Stroking your clit, moaning from the sweet pleasure. Touching yourself is better with Toji watching you with intense hungry passio. “Fuck you’re so damn hot Daddy begging me like a slut. You need me to fuck ya that badly?” Curling two fingers into you, soaking them holding your fingers up to Toji’s lip.

Groaning licking your fingers clean, jerking himself off with your underwear wrapped around his head. The idea of him cumming into your underwear shouldn't be so hot. Yet it has you soaking, but you rather he cum in you.

“Fuck a condom I’m good if you are I really need to feel your warm cum.” He tosses your underwear aside, holding his heavy cock up.

Toji croons, “Anything you want mama my cock is all your’s.” Straddling his hips, his tip gliding along your soft wet lips. His is so thick, have you had anyone as big as Toji? Could he fit? The idea of his cock being too big to fit turning your mind to mush.

It’s hard to think of anything else other than Toji and you’ve barely touched him. Bracing yourself, squeezing his thick pec, dragging your nails down his beautiful seemingly sculpted abs.

Slowly sinking down his tip slowly, the sweet burning pleasurable ache of being stretched too wide too fast making you pause and tremble. “Nnn fuck you wanna bounce on my cock like a whore?” Toji grabs your hips roughly sinking you down, holding your still.

“That’s too damn bad touch yourself and beg for me to fuck ya into a mindless slut.” Toji’s such a big man, with broad shoulder, large pecs, a waist that slims in, and muscular thighs keeping your legs spread apart.

His fat cock filling you up, you can acutely feel every pussy vein, the soft texture of his skin. Contrasting to how hard he is, clenching your cock, he throbs. It’s a slight twitch of his fat head that makes your cunt flutter.

“It’s like your beneath my belly button!” Stroking your clit, he glide his large hands up along your sides. Grabbing your neck, barely squeezing. “Nnn you’re so deep! Touching my cervix, it feels so! Nnn I’ve never had such a big cock.” Rubbing your soft nipple with his rough thumb.

Slapping your ass, crying from the sweet stinging pain. Another harsh slap, jerking running away, your cheek burning. Gliding barely an inch out before Toji ruts his hips up, stuffing you full.

You cant get used to how he’s touching your cervix. He shouldn't be so deep, is a strange yet wonderful feeling you need it get used too. “Too deep! Wanna move please fuck me daddy! Fuck me! You can stuff your fat cock in my cunt whenever you want please!” Tighening his grasp around your neck, grabbing your hip.

Slamming you down on the bed, pinning your thigh by your side. Gliding his cock out till his fat tip is all that’s stretching your little hole. Your soft lips around the soft ridge around his head. “Poor lil mama, hearin’ ya say that makes me want to take my time breakin’ ya.” Rocking his hips, roughly fucking his fat cock into your sloppy cunt.

Stroking your sweet spot, the intense waves of tingling pleasure making it hard to think. Clenching his hard cock whining, “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!”

“Mama your tight lil super soaking drenching my cock n’ squeeziin me like that. His heavy balls slap your ass, skin slapping skin your cunt squelching louder. “She’s getting wetter for me, my cock that good huh?”

Letting your neck go, leaning back admiring how your cunt takes every inch. “She’s perfect, made to take every inch of my fat cock.” Stroking your clit, your jaw drops your eyes rolls back.

Gradually stroking your clit faster, until you’re trembling. “Does anyone know how to treat my pretty cunt right?” Keping his pace steady. “Did they play with your sweet little clit when giving you their cock. Or did they expect you to cum from just their cock?” Fucking your cunt harder, keeping the same speed.

“Gonna spoil your cunt and show ya how she’s supposed to be treated.” You love the hungry pleasure etched into Toji’s beautiful features. His lips parting with loud groans, his cheeks flush pink, and the intense passionate hunger in his stunning green eyes is intense.

Pleading with him. “Break my cunt daddy, make it only cum for your fat cock, fuck me into a gapping mess, make me unable to walk!” All you’re able to think about is his fat veiny cock, his deep passionate moans, broad shoulders, thick pecs that bounce with each thrust.

“Whose cunt is this sweetheart?” Adding pressure to your clit, the pleasure borders on painful. Your cunt spasms around his fat cock. “Tell me brat or I'm stopping n’ I know your close, she’s getting so tight around me. Ya wanna cum on daddy’s cock mama, tell me whose sloppy wet tight cunt this is!”

Scratching Toji’s chest whining, “Your’s all your’s! Please daddy I don't want anyone else but you! Please I touch myself thinking about you!” Your eyes roll back, jaw drops, trembling your cunt quivering, toes curling. You’re cumming harder than you ever hard before.

“Fuck I need some more.” Gliding his cock out dipping his face between your legs. Nudging his tongue past your lips, groaning into your sloppy sensitive cunt. Twisting away, he grabs your hips pinning you with a rough groan that boarders on a growl.

“Lemme eat my pretty sloppy cunt, I’m starvin’ mama n’ I want you for dinner” kissing your clit, “n’ dessert.” Sucking on your clit, stroking you with his soft tongue. Pumping two thick fingers.

Oreo creampie’s m.list

[lovhrin]

𓇻   ॱ˖  FROM ME TO YOU park sunghoon mini smau

──ॱ˖ ❀ If there was one person yn would always remember, it would be park sunghoon, the only boy who was kind to her on her first day of school. to her, that small act of kindness meant everything. to him, it was probably just another ordinary day. or at least, that’s what she thought.

in which the most popular boy in school is tired of hiding his interest in the least popular girl in school.

❀ pairing : popular!sunghoon x quiet!femreader

❀ genre : school!au, friends to lovers, fluff, angst, smau, loosely based on kimi ni todoke

❀ taglist : closed! @tasnemluvs @honestlyatomicpanda @hhyvsstuff @skepvids @who-tf-soddhi @beigerin @tinyteezer @sasfransisco @giraffeass @velv3ts @seiamor @steddie-steddie @blvengene @starry-eyed-bimbo @ilovbeshotaro @river-demon-slayer @thinkinboutbin @starsunoo @nishimurarikisfinestan @i03jae @greentulip @naevis-hung-up @itsactuallylina @academiq @rikidaze @en-dream @rkivesfilm @kittyyy003 @haechology @univershoon @riribelle @jiiyen @elegancefr @daniellesyellowhands @sunooqvrlsx @justsvstuff @xeee334 @jungcatwonie @starbyeol1512 @right-person-wrong-time @kirakun @rairaiblog @miukidoll @unstableqi @wonuziex @yurisblooming @yyawnjun @pluggtalkk @mydearyeseo @yurisblooming @juyeoz

00. no boys allowed

soft, soothing music drifted through the café, wrapping the space in a sense of peace as the girls enjoyed their meal. the atmosphere was nothing short of serene just as expected. yn always had a way of finding the perfect spots, places that felt like a hidden sanctuary away from the world.

"yn, maybe try eating the food instead of just taking pictures of it," yizhuo teased, laughing at the way yn's face instantly turned red.

"sorry, they're just too cute," she said, finally taking a bite of her totoro cream puff and letting out a satisfied hum. "i need a good collage of photos before school starts, my photography teacher wants us to document our spring break and school starts tomorrow.”

"well, that shouldn't have been hard," yunah said, mouth full, completely ignoring yizhuo's scolding look before taking a sip from yn's drink. "you document everything, you probably haven't even realized how many photos you've taken over the brea—oh!" she suddenly cut herself off, a teasing glint in her eyes as she placed a hand over yn's. "speaking of school, have you thought about joining me for sports day?"

yn awkwardly glanced to the side, avoiding yunah's expectant gaze.

"oh, come on! i even got yiz to join my team," yunah pouted, giving yn her best pleading look.

"which is never happening again," yizhuo chimed in, taking a sip of her kiki themed latte. "i'm only going because you promised to buy me ramen for a month."

"come on, yn! i want both of my girls on my team," yunah whined, taking another sip from yn's drink, despite having her own.

"this is really good," she mused, making yn nod in agreement.

"i know, right?"

"but that's beside the point!" yunah quickly refocused, leaning in with wide, pleading eyes. "please?"

yn looked at her friend and sighed. she was never the sports type, she got tired too easily. she was more of an artsy girl, someone who kept to herself. plus, she had only transferred at the start of the year and still didn’t feel completely comfortable. but she couldn't ignore the fact that yunah and yizhuo had been nothing but kind to her since she moved. she felt like she owed them at least a little consideration.

"i'll think about it," she said at last, meeting yunah's hopeful gaze. "for real this time."

“promise?”

“promise.”

a comfortable silence settled between them, the only sounds being the occasional clink of utensils and the soft hum of café chatter. the girls stayed lost in their own worlds, scrolling through their phones and picking at their food, perfectly at ease in each other's company.

that was until yunah looked up, her eyes widening as she stared past yn and yizhuo toward the entrance.

"what the hell are they doing here?" she muttered.

yn and yizhuo turned to look over their shoulders. yizhuo immediately groaned.

"i thought this place was girls only?" she joked, rolling her eyes.

but yn barely heard her. her focus was locked on the boy who walked in last, trailing behind the others.

sunghoon.

last . masterlist . next

──ॱ˖ ❀ finally starting!!

[sugurugetoshairbrush]

playing match-maker with professor!gojo satoru—”we can’t mind our business!” [nxt]

teaching is incredibly rewarding. nothing beats the sense of fulfillment that comes with educating the next generation—it gives you a sense of purpose and makes you feel like a contributing member of society. but recently, you've developed a guilty pleasure, an unhealthy vice. 

because, in truth, what you really find rewarding isn’t teaching. it’s the juicy gossip you share with your colleague, gojo satoru. 

it started innocently enough—quick whispers and passing speculations about students during breaks. then it escalated to frantic texts about classroom dramas. now, it’s a full-blown routine: coordinating your lunch breaks to debrief over an aptly chosen herbal tea at the café across the street.

gojo, the physics professor, is an instigator by nature. unfairly brilliant and chronically bored, he’s always looking for ways to entertain himself. you, an english professor with a manageable workload, were the perfect partner in crime. together, you’ve meddled in your students’ lives, and your escapades have become something of a shared hobby.

his preferred method of meddling is match-making, and to your credit you guys have had one successful match:

juniors, kasumi miwa and kokichi muta.

sweet, hardworking miwa was one of your favorite students, always putting extra effort into your creative writing assignments. muta, (aptly nick-named mechamaru) is a genius with mechanics and the president of the robotics club. gojo taught him quantum physics and claimed he was one of the sharpest students he’d ever met.

it started with a haiku.

you’d assigned miwa’s class a poetry assignment, and her submission, though simplistic, immediately caught your attention:

I may not love science, I can’t bring machines to life, yet I yearn for you.

if that wasn’t enough, there were faintly erased doodles of robots holding hands in the margins of her submitted assignments. around the same time, gojo noticed muta sitting strategically in his class so he could be visible through the window into yours. he angled his notes just enough to display his complex equations—clearly trying to impress miwa.

the moment you pieced it together, you texted gojo:

dr. gojo satoru: no way, her haiku is basically screaming I love him

you: lmao I asked her about the inspiration, and she said, “just a friend”

dr. gojo satoru: she’s gonna move on if we don’t act now!

you: what if we double-book office hours for them? “accidentally,” of course

dr. gojo satoru: omg brilliant, drafting the email rn XD

the plan worked. you and gojo “accidentally” scheduled them for office hours at the same time, then conveniently left them alone. miwa, stumped by an intentionally tricky writing assignment, was soon receiving help from muta. numbers were exchanged, tutoring sessions turned into hangouts, and four months later, they were officially dating.

now, every month, gojo extorts a cream puff from muta as a “thank you” for the setup from the pricey bakery downtown. you pretend to disapprove but always end up splitting the treat.

which brings you to your current predicament. you and gojo are locked in a heated debate about which first-year students to set up next. gojo insists itadori yuji and kugisaki nobara are the ideal pair, but you’re convinced yuji and fushiguro megumi are better suited. gojo’s conviction runs so deep he swears it’s ingrained in on an atomic level.

so to raise the stakes, gojo has wagered his louis vuitton messenger bag (est. value: $3k), while you’ve offered up your earnings from the third installment of your self-published ya novel (est. value: $4k). and yes, the fact that those numbers are so close in value is embarrassing.

desperate to prove each other wrong, you agree to consult your colleagues.

gojo’s first choice? philosophy professor getou suguru.

dr. gojo satoru added you and prof. getou suguru to a group chat

dr. gojo satoru named the group chat cupids <3

dr. gojo satoru: getouuuu dr. gojo satoru: getougetougetougetougetou

prof. getou suguru: this is highly unethical.

prof. getou suguru left the chat.

though getou pretends to be above your antics, he shows up to join you in gojo’s office later, coffee in hand and smirking. he brushes a finger across the desk and frowns at the dust.

“if I were willing to entertain your ridiculous game—which I’m not—I’d say megumi and yuji are the better match,” he declares, smugly.

he strolls to the whiteboard, sliding his glasses down from his forehead to settle over his eyes, his black bangs falling neatly into place, and begins sketching a diagram:

utilitarianism: will the act ultimately result in the best overall results—maximizing utility?

• megumi x yuji: opposing personalities balance each other out, ultimately improving their weaknesses. ↳ e.g. megumi silences yuji when he talks over the lecture, while yuji incites megumi to participate more during group projects, increasing his participation.

• nobara x yuji: similar personalities embolden bad habits, ultimately leading to chaos. ↳ e.g. nobara and yuji are rarely late individually, but when they hang out, they end up coming to class late, usually carrying coffee, and snacks.

getou pops the cap back on and crosses his arms, “I rest my case.”

you cheer while gojo groans, insisting getou’s biased.

determined to recruit an ally, gojo drags you to statistics professor nanami kento, the epitome of calm professionalism. confident in his plan, gojo smirks and declares, “once nanami agrees with me, the resident genius, your theory will come to a grinding halt—no momentum, no inertia, just friction stopping you in your tracks.”

nanami’s sitting at his desk engrossed in grading assignments when you all appear in the doorframe. his brown oxfords shined, speckled tie flung loose over his shoulder.

when he notices your presence, he pointedly checks his watch before stating, “you’ve got ten minutes, for,” he gestures, “whatever this is, I leave at six.”

you explain the predicament and nanami rolls his eyes, rubbing at his temples like he’d just got a headache. “sounds like simple probability, for example,” he rises to pick up a piece of chalk from his blackboard:

p (a) = # of favorable outcomes / # of possible outcomes

p (a) represents the probability of event “a”, megumi and yuji coupling up

he draws a number here, a letter there—the equation is getting increasingly hard to follow, even gojo looks dumbfounded. 

“two, carry the one. and you get…” he starts completing the result:

p (a) = f(u)<k 0ff

he deadpans, the mirth visible in his eyes, “you guys really thought I’d help you with your childish endeavor, has anyone ever told you to simply just mind your own.”

you huff out offended, “we can’t mind our business! come on, don’t be like that. aren’t you close with yuji, being his advisor and all, you should want the best for him!”

nanami sighs, glancing down again at his watch. five more minutes. he approaches you and flips open his phone, scrolling for a couple seconds. 

“here look,” he tilts the screen showing a text thread with yuji:

itadori yuji (freshman): sensei can I ask you something?

nanami k.: what can I do for you itadori? 

itadori yuji (freshman): you know how I’m undeclared? well, I love spending time with friends. is it okay for their interests to influence my major?

nanami k.: while the choice should ultimately be your decision itadori, it is only natural that your environment and experiences influence the line of thinking that leads to that decision. which of your peers have you found most influential? 

itadori yuji (freshman): I don’t wanna say because I don’t think they realize how much I look up to, and respect them. I’m scared I’ll psyche them out. but they’re terrific: driven, independent, and forthright.

nanami k.: well if those traits are any indicator they seem like a strong, positive influence to your academics.

you finish reading and you all share a look. you start, “okay so, I think I’m confident that with yuji’s messages in mind, we all think, no, are certain, that yuji’s ideal match is…”

“megumi!”

“nobara.”

“megumi!”

“nobara!”

and so, you once again, begin considering who might be the next best person to consult for an additional perspective.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊ back in their dorms, megumi, yuji, and nobara can’t stop sneezing, the sheer weight of being so heavily discussed tickling their senses.

[masterm1111]

27 minutes.

you left the apartment. drove to the restaurant to pick up the takeout order. entered your key into the door and found my husband panting in just a tank top on the bed.

you and nanami have known each other long enough to read each other's mind. if you take a nap after standing in the kitchen for more than two minutes after looking in the fridge or pantry, the smell of freshly cooked chicken breast, mashed potatoes, and green beans is hitting your nose for dinner. when you wash your and his cup before going to bed and see an empty bag of tea leaves in the trash, he's welcomed with three new ones the next day after a long day of work.

so best believe that whenever one of you feel needy, there's a telepathic signal given that the other understands.

as you watched your husband hump your pillow, you mentally hit rewind on your conversation before leaving,

*flashback*

"I'm gonna go get dinner," you said as you walked from the island to the front door. "The usual, right?"

He follows you to close it, "Yeah."

You reach over to grab both sets of car and house keys, only for him to grab your car keys right before you can and raise them above your head.

"Love, I really have to go before the food gets cold. Or what if someone pretends to be me and steals our food?"

A minute passes as he just stares at you with a slight smirk. Then you're hit with a kiss, multiple, starting from your cheek as he pecks to your lips.

"Mmwah," he smiles into the kiss. "Drive safe," as he lowers your keys.

"I'll be back soon."

*end flashback*

i can't have been gone for that long... how long has he been holding that in?

kento is generally a patient man. he's waited in line at your favorite bakery just to get a new flavor of cream puffs. he sat watching you try to solve a Rubik's cube for 45 minutes before you offered and he solved it in 45 seconds. "I had a lot of time in high school," he said.

he can also be a bit impatient. you've scolded him a few times for being too touchy-feely at a fundraising event.

"We're in public, Kento. What if someone was looking?"

He cranes his neck down to your ear, "But you look so fucking good in that dress, you have no. idea," as he bites your ear.

"NANAMINNN!"

both your ears perk up to that one distinct voice.

"hey, gorgeous. looking striking as ever."

"hello, satoru," you smiled. "loud as usual."

"always. nanamin, the bosses want to talk to you about this quarter's progress and your success with the super-rich but super-confidential client you took on."

he nods. "lead the way," and before your husband follows suit, he kisses your cheek and softly grabs your ass, and quietly jogs to catch up with gojo.

*present*

the door is cracked open allowing his grunts and moans to fill your shared space. you had placed the food on the counter and tiptoed to peek at nanami releasing his sexual energy.

"oh yeah, y-you like that? my f-fuc- oh shit- fucking cock against you?" you watched his hips slowly roll up against the pillow, pulling back just to go deeper over and over again.

your mind envisioned the latest time he fucked you, angling his cock just right to reach that spot. kento made sure you came a couple times before releasing his cum in you. on his face, around his fingers, against his cock while rubbing your clit. he's down to try just about anything in the bedroom (really any surface) that ensures he's keeping you satisfied.

"hah, this feels so fucking goooodd." as you watched his hips speed up, you could tell he was close. with your mouth slightly agape, you thought to let him finish and edge him later or ruin his orgasm now as payback for literally fucking up your pillow.

eh, why not both?

"fuck, fuck, f-fuc-"

knock-knock. "you couldn't have waited for me to get home?"

he looks for his shoulder to see you standing there, arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed, and your legs crossed.

"seems to me, you've been standing there long enough to join in." before you speak, he flips over for you to see his cock twitching with pre-cum sticking to his abs.

"yea well, food's been here for a minute and i want us to watch a movie together so let's go."

you turn around to head to the counter. you grab the takeout containers out of the bag and lay them out when warm arms hug your waist as you feel his hard-on press into you from behind.

"you think we can finish this- *press* later," he whispers into your neck.

you laugh, "what is going on with you today?"

he walks around the island to grab you both napkins, "what? i can't be horny for my extremely beautiful, gorgeous, amazing, loving wife?"

"by the way, you owe me a new pillowcase."

"yes or no?"

you both stare at each other. you roll your eyes and sigh, "fiinnnee. but, i plan for it to be more fun for me than you."

"what other way would i want it?"

you smile. "okay, let's eat first because i'm starving."

"me too." he taps your ass as you both walk to the couch, savoring this moment of peace before riding into a semi-torturous night.

[mystellenia]

first kiss with abby ୨ৎ

summary: after the romantic tension between you and abby reaches a peak, you two finally share a sweet kiss.

content: answer to this req and part two to this!! fluffyfluffyfluffy! ehehehehehe. i love fluff i love writing fluff. nothing nsfw. just lowk domesticity with abby and then super cutesy pie origami stuff and then a kiss 💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋 ok toodles enjoy

notes: three weeks of no post i’m sorry my children. i am back!!! classes just finished and now i have summer break so i just had to soak in my freedom from my fuckass med teacher. he can choke fr 💯

(wc 1.6k)

a series of vibrations from your phone rudely pulls you out of your sleep and you swipe your hand across the bed to silence the notifications. you find your phone connected to abby's charger on her vacant side of the bed, the sheets cold without the warmth from her skin to heat them up. she always ran hot—especially during the night—which usually resulted in her yelping at your cold feet pressed to her thighs and trying to absorb her warmth in the hours of the night. 

you raise your phone to your face and are met with four notifications from abby on your home screen. 

abby :p otw back with our loot  

abby :p two berry pastries for the missus and one cream cheese puff pastry for me 

abby :p and nadia gave us two chocolate croissants bc we're super cool 

swiping to unlock your phone, you head to messages and reply to her. 

you YAY thanks you're the best 

you we gotta get nadia a gift card or somethin

you or a bottle of liquor 

you head to the bathroom to brush your teeth with your toothbrush abby got for you for her apartment since you slept over so often. while you load your brush with toothpaste, your phone lights up with a notice from messages: "abby :p loved 'or a bottle of liquor.' " sticking the toothbrush in your mouth, you smile around the minty foam and continue freshening up before abby returns. 

around ten minutes later, you hear the jingle of her keys at the front door and practically skip to the living room to retrieve your pastries. 

abby unlocks the door and pushes it open, a brown bag with a cafe logo printed on it in one hand and a drink carrier with two coffee cups hanging from her ring and pinky fingers in her other. with her few remaining fingers grasping onto her car keys to not drop them, she nudges the door back shut with her hip and locks it. 

her blonde head donns a blue and white trucker hat, the brim of it blocking her from seeing you standing and sheepishly smiling a few strides away. she calls out to you to signal her return. 

"hey, i'm back! and i come bearing gifts. i got-" it's then that abby takes her hat off and notices you inching ever closer. "oh, hi. i got you herbal tea. there weirdly was a lot of traffic today, even though it's, like, seven." 

she continues on as she unpacks everything that she got for you. "then again, i guess kids have school. man, i hated that about high school—waking up early and getting to class on tim- you know what? you're not listening anyway with your food right in front of you," she chuckles. "go on. release! free!" she pokes, using command words for a dog. 

you kiss your teeth and scowl at her, mumbling a "whatever" before tearing into the paper bag. you're met with your two fruit pastries first, then you spot the chocolate croissants abby mentioned under them. 

the two of you stand and eat in comfortable silence in the kitchen, you sipping on your tea and abby picking at her puff pastry. when you finish, you clean both of your spots and abby throws away the paper bag and pastry wrappers, washing her hands after.

after breakfast, you guys ping pong around her apartment, moving from her bed to the couch to the floor and then back to her bed again, all just to talk or scroll on your phones.

hours pass, and after a brief joint nap in her bedroom, you guys now sat on the floor of her living room, light filtering in from her large windows and warming your skin. the floor was littered in origami squares of all different sizes and colors, the origami book abby had gotten for you split open between you two. 

there was a village of origami figures surrounding you, from hearts to frogs to ladybugs to cranes. the book was flipped to a particularly challenging page of an elephant, and you looked over at abby in confusion. 

she was just as confused as you, if not more. her hair was tied in a messy golden knot at the nape of her neck, loose strands crazy and framing her face. her brows were pulled tight on her face, her eyes bewildered and looking at the same piece of paper in her hands as if she'd never seen it before. 

"what step are you on?" she asks, looking at the square in front of you that you were working on. 

"twelve. out of..." you flip the page twice. "god. thirty." you sit up straight to stretch your back out. "i get it, though. kinda." 

"what? show me. i’m on, like, seven. i swear they skipped a step. or forgot to add a picture. just something is wrong." 

you scoot over to sit next to her, pulling your leg to your body and propping your cheek on it. abby places her piece in front of you puts her hands in her crossed lap, her eyes wide and waiting for you to make sense of her issue. 

"okay, let's see." you pull the book closer to you to confirm the step she's on. "step seven is... rotating and folding the back of the elephant." 

"which i did," abby verifies. 

you rotate the piece and immediately find her mistake. "which you did not." 

"what?! where?" 

"here." you trace your finger along the missing crease. "you see how on mine, this part is creased and pointed? like a peak?" 

"uh-huh..." 

"and yours doesn't do that." 

she simply hums, so you look over at her to confirm that she's listening. her eyes are unfocused and locked on your face. they flit between your own and then drop to your lips for a second. the single second feels quite long, though, when she looks so deeply at you in the way that she does, or when her baby hairs draw attention to her blonde lashes, long and very slightly curled around her sapphire eyes. 

she seems to snap out it—whatever it was—and she deeply inhales, licking her lips and refocusing on the task at hand. 

"can you repeat that?" she asks. "sorry, i... i zoned out." 

it was your turn, now, to lose focus and examine her. you stare at her lips, rosy and still glossy from her just licking them. you stare at the corners of them and the ever so slight frown her mouth always pulls into when she's focused. you stare at the little creases in them, the dozens of lines that- 

"are you looking at my lips?" she questions, interrogative and almost paranoid. 

"oh, um, sorry. i was-" 

"why were you looking at them?" she interrupts again, her eyes wild and demanding an answer from you. 

"because, i- well, you just licked them, so- i don't know. because." you swallow, mumbling, "what, can i not look at them or something?" 

her stone stare softens after noticing your flustered state, and the two of you exchange a long and quiet look. 

abby held her breath nearly the entire time. she didn't want to assume anything or read the situation wrong, but your eyes were dilated. they were dilated from looking at her, and just from that. 

as if it were out of your control—like you were magnets—you started moving closer to her. abby could not seem to remember how to control a single muscle in her body, so she just sat and watched you move closer as her cheeks grew pinker and pinker. 

you stop right in front of her face, the tips of your noses kissing and your breaths shared. after a few seconds, you realized abby wouldn't initiate anything, so you leaned in and pressed your lips to hers, short and sweet. when you pulled away, abby's eyes remained closed for a few seconds before they slowly fluttered open. 

"you just kissed me," abby whispers in disbelief, pointing out the obvious. 

"i just kissed you," you echo back. 

it's abby who leans in for the second kiss, thick and intense with emotion, her hand sliding up your arm. her hand reaches the back of your neck, and she pulls you closer and deepens the kiss. 

you press your forehead to hers and stop kissing her, an infectious smile taking up your features instead. 

"are you.. are you seriously smiling right now?" abby gasps theatrically with mock offense. 

your smile breaks out into giggles and you press your face into her cheek to hide. 

"wow, i cannot believe this. you are laughing at our kiss!" she teases. 

"stop, no i’m not!" you plead, still laughing. 

"whatever you say." she grabs your chin between her fingers and pulls your face back to look at you. peppering kisses on your cheeks, she relents on her taunting.  

"are you gonna show me what i did wrong, or what?" she says, referring to the initial topic of her paper elephant. 

you smile back at her. "yeah, i will." 

"okay." she presses one last kiss to your temple and then waits for your instruction. 

"i was saying, there's supposed to be a crease here, on what'll be the back of the elephant." 

abby nods and hums like she's listening, but really, she smiles at your profile as you continue to speak. 

@abbysbug @abbyonmars @abigails-gf @picklesarenice69

heheheh all done!!!! this was so cute to write especially the end like i was talking to @abbyonmars while i wrote the end and we were fangirling over typed words and pixels. but what else is tumblr dot com for if not to fangirl!!!!

[bunny-jpeg]

Hii bunny could I please order, mille-feuille, carrot cake, chocolate cake, cream puffs with a side of rootbeer and a glass of water served by lando or Logan thank you <3

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu there are many items to choose from and i'd love to hear from you! thank you to those who had submitted, i am going through all of them as fast as i can! thank you!

mille-feuille: “that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.” + carrot cake: "swallow it. all of it." + chocolate cake: "do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day." + cream puffs: "let me finish inside." + root beer: filming/recording + glass of water: aftercare served by logan sargeant!

cw: smut/pwp, filming, sex tape, aftercare, reverse cowgirl style, unprotected sex, oral sex (logan receives)

"this is ridiculous." you remarked as you looked up at logan as he came closer to you. you could feel the excitement in your gut as you watched him approach you. everything about him just pulled you in to him, even when he was in nothing but a loose pair of boxers.

"there's nothing ridiculous about me wanting to make today special. it's the newest chapter of our lives." he beamed at you before he got onto the bed with you

you held his face for a moment and looked into his beautiful eyes. you chuckled softly for a moment as you asked, "logan, you want to film amateur porn with me."

"do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day." he said as he rubbed himself against you while you both tumbled in bed. his cock prodded against your back, "c'mon, beautiful. i know you want it. you want to make tonight special."

eventually he ended up on his face and your hands were on his boxers. you pulled them down and eyed his cock. you were in a position where the camera set up on the desk nearby.

"logan."

"swallow it. all of it. i know you can take all of me, you've done it before." he played with your hair a little and tensed when you leaned down and pressed the tip of his cock. you whimpered a little as you gave him head and he felt a shudder of heat go through him. you always felt like a dream around his cock.

you moaned around him as you pushed hair out of your face and really worked his length with heavy movements of your mouth. logan wanted to film a special night before the start of his career in indy racing. you two had been together though thick and thin of his racing, his beautiful girlfriend who stood by him through it all. to film something like this was scandalous. what if prying eyes saw you orally pleasuring your lover.

"that's it, beautiful." he groaned as he held on your head and worked you up and down his length. you felt like a dream on his cock as you took him to the base. you groaned around his length.

you wanted to respond, but it was hard with his cock gently hitting against your gag reflex. you looked at one another and he groaned from the sight of you. your lips around his cock as you kept moving your head up and down.

logan ripped your hair and let you move at a pace you felt comfroable with. he felt the tip of his cock hit against some of your softest parts. the feeling was intoxicating for him, you felt amazing around his cock. he loved, loved your sweet mouth on him. but there was one thing he loved more. your aching cunt.

you were quick to get your panties off and before you could climb onto his lap. he made you face the camera before he guided you onto his cock. the stretch made you run hot as you leaned forward to get the best angle with his cock inside of you.

"look at the camera, beautiful." he said as you rode him. he got a perfect view of your ass as you worked his length as best as you could. he could feel the buzz of want in his brain as he rode you, his heart fluttered from the feeling of your fucking.

it wasn't every day that the most beautiful woman in the world wanted to ride him in front of a camera. he knew your bouncing, pretty tits looked amazing for the camera. this was a night to never forget. he held onto your hips and continued to work you on his length. your noises encouraged him to keep working you against his hardened erection. it was painfully erotic, he could feel the heat throughout his body.

"that's it, beautiful. my baby girl." he groaned as he really moved you up and down. your moans were getting higher in pitch as you felt the waves of pleasure crash over you.

logan loved the sight of his beloved girlfriend made into a totally erotic mess by him. fed his ego a little. he said, "why don't you tell me in the future how good it feels." he let out a heavy groan.

"fuck, logie, it feels really good. you make me feel really good." you felt the bubble of want in your gut as you continued to ride his cock like your life depended on it. everything inside of you felt hot. there was a fire burning inside of you as you worked him in and out of your slick pussy.

the two of you continued your movements and the entire bedroom felt hot. you held onto his legs as you really worked yourself and felt the excitement of pleasure course through your body. everything about it felt painfully hot. and it wasn't long before you relied on instinct and got yourself to climax. your nails dug into his legs as your back arched, "fuck, honey. this feels so good!!!"

logan wasn't far behind you. he panted out, "let me finish inside." with a feverish intent that he felt the pleasure in his bones. he continued to fuck you perfect little cunt.

"yes, yes! fuck, finish inside of me!" you whined.

logan gave you a few more heavy thrusts before he clutched onto your hips and shoves his entire length into you. he finished inside of you and you moaned loudly. the thrusts slowed to a stop as you looked at the camera and gave it a cheeky kiss before logan pulled you to the mattress and wrapped his arms around you. the kisses were immense.

"the camera!" you yelped.

logan chuckled as he kissed your forehead, "fuck it, i want to see all the aftercare i give you. that i'm a great boyfriend. now do you need some water?"

you giggled and kissed his cheek, you felt the love he held for you as you kissed him softly. he loved you, and you loved him. <3

[peachsukii]

— and the sun will set for you.

✮ content. comfort/angst? open ended & not a “happy” ending. vague exploration of grief. bakugo struggles with coping but is trying his best. mid 30s, pro hero au. reader & bakugo are/were married.

Bakugo hates eating sweets in the morning.

And yet, every Sunday at the market, he picks up chocolate croissants, apple strudels, and cream puffs.

Not for him, though - for you, and only you.

He bought a glass pastry dome for the countertop to keep them organized, loving how your tired eyes light up when you pad into the kitchen and see the delicious selection. Like clockwork, Bakugo places the mug with sunflowers adorning the ceramic onto the table next to your plate, filled to the top with your favorite coffee - oat milk, two sugars and a pump of hazelnut syrup. Your sleepy smile illuminates the kitchen like sunbeams dancing on the hardwood floor, warming his heart without a word. He joins you at the table, his plate stacked with a simple mixture of rice and soft scrambled eggs accompanied by a cup of black coffee.

These mornings are the ones that get him through the week, the ones he looks forward to after a hard patrol shift or late nights in the office while drowning in paperwork. Even though he’d get up and go shopping at the crack of dawn, he always crawls right back into bed with you when he gets home. The sun is barely peaking through the curtains of your shared bedroom, just enough to cast an angelic glow on your side of the bed. It leaves him breathless every time, awestruck at how lucky he is to have someone as gorgeous as you to call his. He’s etched your features into his memory, but never grows tired of admiring all the little things that make you tick. It never fails to make him fall in love with you over and over again, finding one more small detail every day to adore.

This morning was different - you were uncharacteristically at the kitchen table when he got home, patiently waiting for him.

“Ei and Pinky are finally gettin’ married,” Bakugo says aloud between bites of his eggs. “Only took ‘em six years after gettin’ engaged, but he’s giddy as hell. Asked me to be his best man.”

“That’s wonderful!” You chirp, lips curling into a soft smile. “Reminds me of our wedding. I still think it was the sweetest thing that he cried to cover for you crying when I walked down the aisle.”

“I ain’t afraid to cry! He’s the biggest baby, ‘course he was moved to tears at the sight of the most beautiful woman on the planet.”

“Aww, thanks baby. You’re too sweet.”

Too sweet.

The words linger in the air as he stares into the dark abyss of his coffee, watching the liquid swirl in a vortex as he became lost in thought.

Our wedding.

He recalls the day like it was yesterday - the scent of the flower garden, the radiant aura engulfing your silhouette as you strolled down the aisle toward him, how your plush lips felt brand new during your first kiss as husband and wife…pure magic, that’s what you are. Whatever god or goddess sent you his way all those years ago, he thanks them endlessly. Without you, he’s lost like a dog in the rain with nowhere to go.

Nostalgia is a cruel mind’s trick.

“Katsuki?” You whisper, tilting your head in confusion. “Is everything okay?”

Bakugo swallows the emotions rising in his throat, suffocating them for a little while longer. He was getting too good at shoving everything down.

“Yeah, sweets. Sorry, still wakin’ up.”

“I don’t think I can finish this today, I’m stuffed. Do you want it?” You point to the two cream puffs on your plate and cup of coffee. “I’m sorry.”

“No need’ta apologize, angel. I’ll eat ‘em, leave it there.”

You stand, taking a few steps closer to him and planting a loving kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Katsuki. I love you.”

The tears are welling up in his eyes as he takes a deep breath, shakily whispering, “I love you too,” before sliding your plate in front of him and popping one of the cream puffs into his mouth. He pushes his full coffee mug to the side and takes yours, bringing it to his lips and enjoying the sugar coating his tongue. A single tear spills over his waterline, cascading down his cheek and settling under his chin.

Not sweet enough.

Six months ago, Bakugo would have never eaten your sweets, they were yours.

Now, he likes eating sweets on Sunday mornings when you grace him with your presence; anything to help him feel closer to you while you’re away.

tags // @slayfics @maddietries @starieq @liluvtojineteyam @jays-adventure3 @simp-plague @queenpiranhadon

[taojjang]

ִ ࣪𖤐 riize spending halloween with you .ᐟ

pairing: bf!riize x fem!reader, genre: fluff + crack, warnings: spooky themes! haunted houses, fake blood, scary clowns, fake blades, a lil spooky might make u dookie pink text > reader blue text > riize

♡⸝⸝ spooky day with your silly bf

shotaro passing out candy!

since the day you and shotaro moved into your shared apartment, you always loved how festive your neighborhood was during halloween. everything was so festive with the spooky orange lights, the scary skeleton statues, the fake spiderwebs in the trees. that's why you'd never imagine spending halloween anywhere else but your home.

though you love halloween so dearly, it's clear who loves it more between the both of you. on october 1st, taro buys loads and loads of spooky decorations. he'd come home with huge bags cheering, "honey! look what i bought! do you want to help me put these up?" you could never turn down requests as adorable as his :( even if it's cold, you would be outside for hours hanging up fancy string lights and constructing little pumpkin lanterns to leave on the front lawn. you'd take a break and watch shotaro excitedly hanging cute ghosts from a tree, giggling and showing off his work. he was so serious about making your house extra festive </3

on halloween day, you and taro would sit on your front porch in matching costumes and pass out candy to the trick-or-treaters. you absolutely adore how cute taro is with kids, getting a little too generous with his grants because of how adorable they are. every time a kid would walk away, he'd turn to you and gush, “wasn't she so adorable?! ahh i can't take it!!” once the trick-or-treaters stop coming, the two of you head inside to cuddle and eat the leftover candy. “babies are so cute, don't you think? i can't wait to dress up our little one!” "you're the cutest thing, taro :("

eunseok baking spooky treats!

ever since eunseok made the cute gesture of cooking pumpkin-shaped dumplings for halloween one year, cooking has been a halloween tradition. maybe because of how delicious eunseok's pastries are, the two of you often ditch halloween parties to eat cream puffs instead >.< you'd truly leave anything behind just to enjoy a comforting meal cooked by your sweet boyfriend. once the month of october begins, you're already counting down the days until your cooking date with seok. of course, he's excited as well. but he can't help feeling a bit anxious. though you love baking with him, he tries to take the lead most times because of how clumsy you are.

this year, the two of you decided on a two-course meal; ghost-shaped dumplings and pumpkin cream puffs! the date began, the two of you looking for recipes and hunting for the ingredients in his cabinets. eunseok tried to lend you some of his trust while you cooked, but it didn't take long for your clumsiness to spike his anxiety. "darling, this looks like a bit too much flour. how much did you put?" "two cups!" "the recipe called for half." long story short, you were switched to observation duty!

you watched eunseok read the instructions and add all the ingredients to a bowl while clinging to his waist, peeking over his shoulder. here and there, he'll look back at you and allow you to mix the ingredients together (which he shouldn't have cus you ended up splashing flour all over your halloween pajamas </3). eunseok was working overtime steaming the dumplings and mixing the pastry dough, all while keeping a close eye on you so you wouldn't explode the house or something. once the pastries were in the oven, you went to the living room to pick a spooky show to watch while your chef boyfriend prepared dinner. "here darling, all done." your eyes lit up at the sight of the prettily plated food, eunseok placing it in front of you with a bunch of side dishes. "this looks good, love! thank you!" the two of you sat beside each other, indulging in the cute little dumplings. your eyes were glued on the show in front of you, but eunseok's eyes were scanning your face for signs of enjoyment. he relaxes into a soft smile when he sees your eyes light up with your cheeks stuffed with food. "how is it?" "so good! extra points cus you're cute ;3" all of his stress from looking after you melted away once he was rewarded with that sweet smile of yours.

sungchan carving pumpkins!

sungchan is probably as excited for halloween as a sugar-deficit toddler. chan has been so determined to prepare everything early for halloween, picking out costumes and little candies since the beginning of october. he’d been looking forward to wearing your matching fbi agent costumes to his friend’s costume party. but you fell ill the day before the party, not being able to completely enjoy your halloween :(

sungchan was worried sick about you, leaving everything behind to come take care of you. what you didn’t expect was him to open your bedroom door with two large pumpkins. “what the hell babe..? i thought you were buying medicine?” “oh, i forgot… but they had pumpkins on sale! buy one get one free!” you laughed at your smiling dork and mustered up the strength to go carve pumpkins in the living room, right in front of the display of spooky festivities outside of your window <3

“let’s make matching pumpkins! i can make spiderman and you can make uh… baby yoda!” “that doesn’t match but sure!” the two of you carved pumpkins together while watching peanuts, your favorite cartoon. though you felt like shit due to the lack of medication, you didn't have much time to focus on your discomfort due to your dramatic boyfriend's reaction to the gross feeling of the pumpkin guts. gosh, did you absolutely love that stupid face of his. though he was fooling around and trying to lift your spirits, sungchan remained hyperalert watching your every move, staying wary of your weak hands holding the carving knife. “let me do it for you, princess. you’re gonna get hurt.” sure enough, the both of you got hurt :) but at least the pumpkins were cute! sungchan put candles in the pumpkins and left the botched-looking jack o’lanterns by your front door. “all done! i should probably go buy your medicine now, huh…” “just come inside and cuddle me..!”

wonbin watching scary films!

you’ve been dying to go to a haunted house with wonbin for months now. but due to reasons unbeknown to you, he’s always turned you down. he comes up with a different excuse every time, like “it’s too expensive” or  “it’s too cold that day” but once he agreed to watch scary movies with you, you finally figured out why he didn’t want to go.

the two of you decided to watch paranormal movies, all about ghosts and hauntings. throughout the movie, you notice wonbin kept scooting closer and closer to you until his head was hiding behind your shoulder. “no way bbin, are you scared?” “no, i’m just cold.” but whenever ominous music played, his grip on your arm would tighten and he’d hold his breath, just barely peeking over your shoulder. once the movie grew silent, you smirked before letting out a low growl, scaring the jumpy cat. “ah don’t do that, baby!!” you laughed before pulling him down to cuddle against your chest, ruffling his hair and apologizing through giggles. during the climax, wonbin was tightly squeezing your waist and hiding with the blanket pressed tightly against his face. you sneakily pulled out your phone and recorded your boyfriend's cute demeanor, all tensed up on top of you with his big, shaky eyes hesitantly glued to the screen. once the jumpscare popped up, he dropped the ineffective nonchalant act and screamed, springing backward to hug you by the shoulders, hiding his head into your neck. you laughed and held him against your body, kissing his temple to calm him down. “ah, this must be why you didn't wanna go to the haunted house, hm?” “shut up!”

the movie ended at 11pm and you had to go back home. you put your jacket on and grabbed your keys, but wonbin stood in front of the door and stared at you with that pitiful sullen glint in his eyes. “can you sleep over tonight? i’m… gonna be cold again later.” you laughed and tossed your keys back onto the counter running to hug your frightened baby. you cupped his cheeks in your hands and planted hundreds of kisses all over his flustered cheeks. “i won't make fun of you if you're scared, baby. should we cuddle?” wonbin’s fear melted away and he nodded, holding your hand and running off to his room. the two of you cuddled while staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. “we shouldn't have watched that… did you know you could manifest hauntings by watching scary stuff?” “the ghosts can't kill you, baby. shush, just sleep.”

seunghan on a pokemon hunt!

as silly as it sounds, the two of you decided instead of passing out candy or going to costume parties, you would go on a pokémon hunt late at night. seunghan proposed a challenge of whoever could catch the most pokémon would pay for dinner that night. you and your competitive poké-fiend boyfriend put on your coziest jackets and ran outside.

you stayed on facetime with hani while running opposite ways to catch some pokémon. you were doing pretty good, catching a few ratatas and even a diglett. but after 10 minutes of hunting, you noticed seunghan was frantically looking around and commenting on his surroundings. "oh wow it's dark... i should try to stay around the other people here. there wouldn't be ghosts, right? ghosts aren't a thing, haha..." you couldn't hold back your laughter as you realized seunghan was more afraid of the ghosts catching him than having to pay for dinner. "what are you laughing at..?" "are you scared, love?" "of course not! i'm just in a weird environment!" you closed out of the pokémon go app and watched your boyfriend's flustered expression on the screen. "hold on, i'll come find you." "no! you're gonna scare off my pokémon!" "I'LL SAVE YOU, MY PRINCESS!"

long story short, you got to enjoy your fried chicken without a single penny being taken from you (winner winner chicken dinner!). as you ran over to seunghan, he whined, "i give up, it's too dark. can we go inside yet?" once he saw you running towards him, his eyes lit up and he ran to cling to your side. "come on, love, let's go hide from the ghosts." the two of you held hands and ran back home where seunghan ordered a fried chicken delivery. you and the sulky boy ate together while watching shin chan, you occasionally pausing to tease your silly boyfriend for being scared of ghosts. "do you mind taking out the trash after this? hopefully there aren't any ghosts out there~" "STOP ANGEL I'M SO SERIOUS RN"

sohee in a haunted corn maze!

the two of you were browsing the store for cool halloween costumes when you saw a flier for a haunted corn maze at the nearby farm. “we should do it!” sohee cheered, taking a picture of the flier. you tilted your head and asked, “are you sure? you won’t be scared?” sohee scoffs and shakes his head, “of course not! i’m sohee!” you scoff at the silly guy who's grinning and flexing his tiny muscles.

contrary to your initial belief, sohee wasn't afraid. you were. the two of you arrived at the farm and you couldn't help but feel uneasy. you keep subconsciously squeezing sohee's arm and pressing yourself against him. your heart was beginning to palpitate meanwhile sohee was laughing and gasping, "wow... the props seem to be good quality!" your clueless boyfriend was too busy admiring the fake knives on the hay barrels instead of the terrifying killer clown standing by the maze entrance. you enter the maze and you’re immediately hit with the eeriness of the space; the tall hedges, the dark path ahead, the fake blood on the ground, the scary backtrack. your stomach began to turn, yet sohee excitedly treaded forward. “let’s go! should we go left or right?” you hummed trying to brainstorm an answer but as you looked both ways, you spotted scary props in both directions. the terrified screams of the other people in the maze didn’t help your sense of impending doom. “maybe… left?”  sohee looked down at you and noticed the uncertainty in your voice. he found it cute how you were so concerned about him being afraid yet now you're stuck to his arm, seemingly about to cry. “are you sure? we can still leave if you'd like.” you shook your head and held onto his arm tighter. “no, let's go!” sohee chucked adoringly at your sudden courage and began following your lead.

your fear soon dissipated as the fun of the escape settled in. as you turned left, a bloodied clown emerged from the dense bushes. you immediately tugged sohee towards you, earning an amused laugh from him. but now that it was over, you weren’t as scared. the escape was now on. “i think we should go left.” “nonono there's a killer over there!” “are you scared?” “no let’s go” the two of you worked tirelessly (screaming almost every 4 minutes) and finally saw the glow of the exit lights. sohee’s eyes lit up as he saw the red sign, turning to you and taking your hand in his. “y/n, there it is! come on!” the two of you ran out of the maze with huge smiles. sohee turned to you with the widest gleam on his face, high-fiving your hands and intertwining his fingers with yours. “we did it!” the fear-induced adrenaline all melted away once your hands were in his. you fell into his hug, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and resting against him. sohee held you by the waist and nuzzled his head onto your shoulder. “were you scared, pretty girl?” you shook your head and huffed, “not at all!” sohee laughed and left a small kiss on your cheek. “you did a good job getting us out of there! let’s do more things like this!”

anton in a haunted house! (oh dear...)

anton had been dreading this day for ages. your boyfriend had always been a scaredy cat, not being too good at hiding his fear especially when watching scary movies with you. “i really can’t do it love, i’m gonna DIE.” “you’re being dramatic, anton.” he’d been trying his best to convince you not to go, but he couldn’t stand the idea of you going alone. he couldn’t keep fighting your little pout and those pleading doe eyes :( so of course, you went!

you were skipping towards the spooky house while anton was pulling you back by the arm, taking baby steps. “ah, wait! i can’t do this!!” with enough consoling, anton finally followed you inside the house. but once the red lights flashed, he ran behind you and planted his hands under your jacket. you laughed hearing anton’s terrified whines so soon, only being in the house for 20 seconds. you rested your hands over his gripping your waist. “i’m gonna start walking, okay?” “no!” the two of you still haven’t made it three steps into the house without him sticking to you, hiding his head in the side of your neck. once you began progressing, you were shocked at how high quality the set was; fake dead bodies, blood splattered all over the walls, eerie smoke emanating from the doorways. everything you found fascinating was only driving anton even closer to you, hiding against you and holding you with a trembling grip. you wanted to immerse yourself in the horror of the scene, but you couldn’t feel any sense of fear with your dumb boyfriend whining against your neck. “baby, hiding won’t help.” “no, i’m not looking! hurry, i wanna get out!” you laughed and held onto his hands tighter, treading through the scary rooms. with every slight noise, anton would flinch against your shoulder, his grip on your shirt growing tighter. “ah, move faster love!” “i’m trying!”

the entire time, anton was pathetically shrieking with his head buried into your neck, not allowing himself to see any of the scary scenes. he was so focused on keeping his eyes shut that he didn't realize you'd successfully exited the house. "open your eyes." "no!" "baby trust me, open your eyes." toni hesitantly lifted his head only to be met with the sight of trees and soft moonlight. "oh... it's done." you laughed and turned to face him, cupping his face in your hands and lifting the corners of his lips into a smile. "you made it out alive! see? it wasn't bad!" "you don't know what i went through..." though he'd finally escaped like he'd been praying for, he was still sulking during the entire trip back home. you couldn't hold back your laughs, finding his pouty lips so adorable. "i'm sorry my love, i won't make you go to another one again. do you wanna cuddle?" "whatever, sure." you sighed at his sassy remark and turned him to face you, pressing your lips against his. that moody look on his face was soon replaced with his flustered, blushing cheeks and a content smile creeping onto his lips.

[chronically-ghosted]

i wonder if you stopped his world like you did mine

rating: teen

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

word count: 5K

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

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

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

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

🤍Masterlist | Frankie Morales Masterlist

Frankie Morales has a problem.

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

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

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

And right now, it’s wearing a dress.

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

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

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

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

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

Wait. 

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

That’s –

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

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

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

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

“Well, excuse the fuck outta me.”

“The fuck outta you is excused.”

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

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

His real fucking problem is Nick. 

Your boyfriend. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he’s your friend.

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

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

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

And you deserve the world.

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

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

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

Never a good idea with Benny Miller. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now he drew a glare from you and Frankie. 

Don’t, man, just don’t. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Frankie. Let’s boogie.” 

That was a mistake.

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

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

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

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

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

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

C’mon, Frankie, tell me you love me.

Kiss me, Frankie. Kiss me now.

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

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

Frankie only ever asked for one. 

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

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

“Six tequila shots, please.”

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

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

The sooner, the better, you mother fucker. 

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

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

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

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

22%

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

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

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

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

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

Eight missed calls, but only one voicemail. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, mierda – um, baby?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Benny, fuck off!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck. Fuck!

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

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

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

You stare at the phone on your floor. 

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

Not this time.

You open the door and either way, everything changes. 

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

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

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

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

“So you listened to it already?”

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

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

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

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

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

“We need to talk.” 

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

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

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

Do you want coffee?

Do you want some cereal? 

Do you want to– 

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

He called you baby.

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean? Where is he?”

“We broke up.”

“When? Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Grateful.

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

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

This is the right time, he supposes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you feel about conchas?” 

Translations:

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

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

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