#week 1: movies and tv | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

iloveglomp · 2 months ago

Text

A Pound A Day

Emily lay in bed, her lithe frame a vague outline under the sheets. As she stirred in her dreams, her smooth milky legs rubbed against each other. Firm calves and toned thighs sculpted her shapely lower frame leading to a firm but jiggly ass that was quite large for her small stature. Emily was a rather bottom-heavy brunette standing at 5’6” and weighing 130 lbs. Any fat she had was on her ass and it was encapsulating when she crossed the room swaying her hips. As Emily slowly awoke, she stretched her toned arms and traced the outline of her firm stomach and modest breasts. Her green eyes slowly opened, and she checked her phone. A text from her roommate, Allison, read

“Today's a big day lol, are you ready to be my famous case study?”

“Yeah, I guess so, it’s not like it's a big deal anyway, Ms. Psychologist. Although I still don’t understand how gaining weight has anything to do with your field of study.” Emily replied. She thought about what she had agreed to do to help her roommate Allison finish her final college study. For the next month, she had to gain a pound a day. Emily thought nothing of it; her adherence to the proposal was simply an excuse to spend a month lounging around and eating what she wanted. Winter was around the corner, and she could hide herself under the warm layers of sweatpants and hoodies she had in her closet. Nobody would notice if she were 130 or 160 lbs. with her baggy clothes on. As Emily finally got out of bed, she sauntered into her bathroom and stepped on the scale as Allison had asked her to do every morning. 130 lbs. flat would be Emily’s entry weight for day 1. She texted Allison

“I’m 130lbs… I’m kind of nervous to gain 30lbs, 160lbs is way heavier than what I am now, that I think about it, is this even possible?”

“Honestly, Emily, probably not, but we have to try and give an honest effort to my studies. Remember, you agreed to this, and my graduation depends on it!”

“Ugh, I know, as long as you buy me groceries and treat me well, I'm a down girl.” Emily texted back, she figured if anything, she would only gain 10- 15 lbs. and never have to think about it again. A little extra padding could be nice for her if it went to the right places anyway. She cupped her breasts and noticed how firm they were, then slowly felt her flat stomach and went down and behind to her firm but slightly doughy ass. A little more meat wouldn't hurt me down here, she thought to herself.

Emily spent her first few days of the month completely clueless about her surroundings as she dove headfirst into a completely sedentary life. It was surprisingly easy to eat to her heart’s content when everything she wanted was in the house. Ice cream and Oreos, milkshakes, pancakes, bacon, pizzas, fried chicken, just about whatever her food-comatose brain could think of as her next meal, Allison was buying her. Her stomach was constantly distended and round, taut with food and drink from her previously unseen side of gluttony. As Emily continued to indulge herself and lounge around the apartment, she realized it was quite an easy life being Allison's little study case for a month, and she should fully embrace it while she could. After two weeks, Emily was weighing in at roughly 140 lbs. Allison was rather disappointed with this result and worried her final thesis could spell disaster for her aspiring career. Allison decided to apply a bit of pressure to Emily's lazy routine by setting reminders on her phone and constantly watching her as she ate, sometimes even attempting to coax Emily to push past her limits and stuff herself to the max for the sake of her study. The two roommates grew accustomed to watching movies and reality TV shows while Allison sneakily shoved food down Emily’s throat. The two roommates spent hours cuddled under blankets, Allison's blonde hair and skinny frame almost spooning Emily's new softer body. By the end of the day, Emily would be passed out on the sofa while Allison fought the temptation to rub her belly and get a hands-on feel of the progress her “study” was making. The size difference between Allison's svelte 115lb body at 5'5" was ever shrinking compared to her indulgent roommate. Emily was starting to gather a larger appetite and often found herself mindlessly snacking on something while she was in her Zoom classes or just watching television. It wasn't uncommon for Emily to eat take-out three to four times a day, thanks to Allison's credit card. By the end of the first month, Emily had completely shattered Allison's expectations and reached a staggering 160 pounds, as she had hoped for at the beginning of her study. The thirty-one-day project displayed just how easy it could be to coax someone into turning a new leaf if placed in the right artificial environment. Allison had perfected a subtle daily routine for Emily using material priming and rewards for consistent behavioral changes. Treats in the form of food and attention kept Emily bombarded with positive reinforcements as she slowly succumbed to her new lifestyle. Oversleeping led to breakfast in bed, overeating led to words of affection and warm, cozy naps on the couch, and sometimes even a belly rub to ease the pain of her bloated belly. Emily was being waited on hand and foot by Allison and was slowly rescinding her ability to do anything herself without even knowing it.

“Emily, girl, I know you said you didn't mind putting on a few pounds for me to do my study, but you really blew this out of the water for me! I'm so proud of you, you don't understand how much your hard work means to me, girl!” Allison’s eyes were glued to Emily's soft and padded body as she lay on the couch, covered in crumbs and practically nude.

“Yeah I feel like a huge fucking cow right now, but it's been so easy to just let go and enjoy myself the past month. I could totally see myself doing this all the time if I had no repercussions, honestly.” Emily said without a second thought. Allison was sitting across the room from her on a barstool, typing away on her computer, but stopped in her tracks when she heard Emily say this. She grinned and looked at Emily, who was sunken into the couch, still tearing through a bag of Doritos as if the study hadn't ended a day earlier. Emily's once-toned body had taken the 30lb gain quite well. Her lower half had gained a considerable amount of fat, making her body have a bit of a pear shape to it. The silky smooth skin on her legs and thighs was spreading out like a heavy cream on the couch. Emily's ass had gotten considerably larger as well, now having cellulite and rippling with every step she took, which wasn’t much because of how lazy she had become recently. Emily’s stomach had softened and now had a pooch on the lower half that was peeking out from underneath her black crop top. The creamy soft skin was slightly jiggly and had slowly increased in size until it was prominent enough that Allison couldn’t take her eyes off of it. She thought Emily was closer to looking like a goddess every time she stole a glance. Allison noted that although she never confirmed it herself, she had heard through mutual friends that Emily had once had a fling with a girl for a few months. Maybe she could really see how soft and sexy Emily had gotten this past month…maybe she could trick her into getting even softer this month…

“Allison, are you listening to me? I said I want something sweet out of the fridge. Do we have anything to make chocolate milk with?”

“Oh- sorry Ems, uhh yeah I think so let me check for you,” Allison said pleasantly. Emily was still pretending the month hadn't ended, and Allison was all for it now that she had gotten herself all worked up over her roommate's new, fleshier body shape.

Just thinking of how good it would feel to grab and caress her new soft, padded skin and cup her perky, slightly larger breasts had Allison rubbing her legs together as she knelt in front of the fridge. Suddenly, she had an idea.

“Hey, Emily, I know that I only asked for a month of your hard work and dedication, but I think that if we did just a little more study work on you, I could really nail this report in the coffin, don’t you think, love?” Emily’s eyes shifted from the television to Allison’s smaller but enticing backside as she dug through the fridge. If Emily didn’t know any better she could have sworn Allison was showing off her tight bubble butt in an attempt to win her over with this proposal, not that she needed any convincing on her part, she had already taken the bait.

“Ally, I know this is a big deal, but I’m not sure how much longer I can afford to veg out all day and be your little lab hamster.” Emily teased sarcastically. “I mean, just look at how big I’m getting, I’ve never been jigglier in my life, and my belly is starting to sag downwards. I practically am a cow, and my legs are so thick they barely fit into my sweatpants.”

“I think you’re more of a lab cow than a hamster, Ems..” Allison retorted in a joking manner. “But if you asked me, I’d say you carry this new weight pretty well, I think you look pretty hot.” Allison was still turned away from Emily, but her face was red hot as she slowly stirred the chocolate into a large cup of “milk” that was heavy cream she had put into a milk jug. She then took some whipped cream and doused a large amount on top of the cream and chocolate calorie bomb and tried to keep her composure as she turned around and met Emily’s gaze. She had a shit-eating grin on her face and was slowly pushing a Twinkie into her mouth, wrapping her puffy cheeks and plump lips around it like it was something else. Allison almost fumbled the chocolate milk as she attempted to keep a straight face and remain calm, caught off guard by Emily’s new attitude towards her.

“If you think that about me, mmph, then why don’t I just keep this up for a little longer and you can repay me when I think of something fitting as a favor.” Emily reached out for the milkshake with both hands and put on her best pouty face as she leaned forward, spilling her cleavage out of the too-small crop top and giving Allison a nice display of her newfound body. Emily’s large, jiggling breasts had completely robbed Allison of any focus she had remaining. Emily grabbed the drink with both hands by wrapping hers around Allison’s and pulled her and the drink in close. She brought the glass to her lips and began taking large sips while maintaining eye contact with her roommate. Allison was practically drooling and biting her lower lip, completely in a daze, inches from Emily’s face. She lowered her arms, bringing Emily’s hands and the drink down to rest on top of Emily’s soft and luscious thighs. They inched closer to each other and brushed their lips for a moment. Emily acted first and locked hers onto Allison, It was a deep, lustful kiss that lasted for a while. Allison could taste the sweetness of the heavy cream and chocolate. She wanted more, but Emily pulled away. “Maybe I know what kind of favor you can pay me back with later.” Emily teased. Allison remained in place, completely off guard by what had just happened. Her brain was running in every direction, and she was beginning to wonder who was really in control of this whole experiment…

Emily awoke in her bed, the sheets clinging to the thick layer of fat that coated her body now. Thanks to Allison’s watchful gaze and nurturing hand, it had been another full month of indulgence. Allison was already out of bed and in the kitchen. They started sleeping together soon after their heavy back and forth, a little under a month ago. The two lovers swayed under each other's grasp. Allison relied on her cunning tactics and positive reinforcement, whilst Emily used her soft, doughy body to drive Allison wild. As Emily clumsily sat up and moved her legs to the side of the bed, the sheet fell off, revealing just how much damage she had done. Her chubby feet and thick calves led to enormous thighs like a sausage casing ready to burst. Swollen with fat and touching down to her knees, her legs had grown ravenously. Red stretch marks clung to her hips and waist, leading to a substantially larger ass that quivered and jiggled at any movement. Cellulite dotted across her fleshy rear, leading to a cute indentation like a large dimple atop her lower back. Her love handles were thick and juicy, begging to be grabbed and kneaded, resting lazily atop her hefty lower half. Emily’s belly was the next victim of her sedentary grazing. Long gone was her flat stomach or slightly jiggling pooch. Now there was a real belly forming in its place. A roll had found its way onto her lap when she was sitting down, and it pooled onto her meaty thighs enough to touch, but her panties remained visible for now. Emily’s upper body has also softened more slowly than the rest of her, but it was quite clear that she no longer resembled the lady she was two months ago. Emily hoisted herself out of bed in a rocking motion and lumbered to the bathroom, like a diligent little lab cow. She stepped on the scale and leaned forward to gaze over her belly. The thought of no longer being able to see her fat reflection in the scales' glass made her wet. She imagined being so fat she had to ask Allison how much she even weighed, and one day making the scale read an error. Emily shuddered at the thought and found herself playing with her soft and plush belly. The scale finally halted at a number that made Emily's eyes widen in surprise.

196 lbs.! 6 lbs. over her mark from Allison and way beyond what she had even thought she had gained in the past month.

Emily couldn’t believe her eyes, and she would have taken some more time to admire how sexy she was feeling, but a rumble in her stomach had reminded her of how often she had been eating to achieve such a rapid gain. She slowly turned around and padded across her carpeted floor back into her queen-size bed. The black and white covers invite her to crawl and wriggle back underneath them for the rest of the day while she grazes upon her lover's endless onslaught of treats and mind-numbing pleasures. Allison found Emily sitting up in bed, using her stack of pillows and squishmallows to prop up her growing body. Any core strength or stamina that once had graced Emily had quickly dissipated as her gain continued at a quickening pace. As she sauntered over to Emily, she realized her step felt a tad heavier and her ass felt bouncier than usual, but she brushed it off as a slight gain of only a few lbs. from spoiling her cow girl so much. Allison had started this project at a petite 115 lbs. and was not very interested in gaining much weight, she felt her role as a feeder and caregiver was much more suiting to her psychology report. Allison hadn’t had much time to continue her report past the first 30 days. Emily had grown increasingly needy and was ruthless in her pursuit of constant bliss. Allison would spend almost every second of her day feeding, comforting, and cleaning after Emily, only to crash into bed at the end of the day and enjoy how soft and warm Emily was as she snored off her excessive calorie binge. Allison often found herself eating whatever Emily had ordered and taking some naps during the day while Emily was off in paradise, enjoying her shows or mindlessly grazing and masturbating. By far, the most effective technique Allison had employed was rewarding Emily with an orgasm during and after a feeding session. Emily had managed to convince herself that she was in charge of these sessions often speeding up or slowing down the eating and fucking, however, Allison had already won by implementing such a routine and priming Emily’s brain to associate food and sex with her daily life.

“How's my sleepy piggy doing this morning?” Allison cooed while carrying a large tray of waffles, bacon, butter, and syrup across the room. “I hope you didn’t use too much energy weighing yourself to enjoy this delicious meal I made for you!” Emily’s attention rapidly switched from her phone to Allison's sexy figure moving across the room to her. Her stomach did the talking for her as it rumbled loudly upon the sight of her favorite breakfast piled high on top of the tray. "It seems someone is always hungry and ready for a little reward if they finish everything here, isn’t that right, dear?” Emily nodded and reached out for the tray, taking it and propping it up on her belly.

“Thank you so much, Ally, I love how you always know just what I want and have it ready for me,” Emily said, eyes growing in size as she studied the tray of goods. It seemed like every day the food grew in quantity and richness, but Emily didn’t mind at all and seemed clueless as to how she could always muster the strength to finish it all with increasing gusto. Emily quickly began to indulge herself in the hearty breakfast, tossing her phone to the side and using both hands to pile bacon in between waffles and slather them with butter and syrup. Allison retook her side of the bed and sat down, her thighs pooling outwards, and to her surprise, her stomach seemed to stretch outwards. She looked over at Emily, who was cramming her mouth full of food and staring almost blankly at the television, watching some reality show. Emily’s phone dinged, but she seemed not to notice or care enough to look over. Allison picked it up and saw she had a few emails from a website titled “Fat Admirers”. Interest piqued, Allison sneakily scrolled through the exchange and realized what Emily’s real intention was. She had opened an amateur account on a fat model website and was slowly racking up the views as a part-time model, showing off before and after, and just how rapid her gain had occurred. The username read “Thicc Cow Girl” and she had a few hundred page views a day. Allison took note and gently placed the phone face down. She reached over Emily’s flabby arm and grabbed a waffle and some bacon for herself. A few bites and she would go work on her course report, some while Emily was still full and happy, she told herself.

Emily awoke a few hours later, still bloated and her stomach distended from such a gluttonous meal. She enjoyed the tight feeling of her upper stomach and its contrast to her now jiggling lower belly that seemed to get softer and rounder by the day. Allison was across the room at her desk, which was Emily's, but she never seemed to use it often. She preferred to do her few small online courses and Zoom calls in bed with an excuse that her camera had broken a few weeks ago. Emily studied Allison's body from across the room. Admiring how she had seemed to soften up. Emily guessed she weighed around 140 lbs. Nothing heavy, especially compared to Emily, but enough for some visible changes. Allison's legs were softer, her stomach had a small belly and her boobs had gotten rounder and heavier. Emily wished she would indulge a little more, but couldn’t complain. She enjoyed the body contrast when they were in bed together. Allison's smaller but softer body fit on top of Emily’s perfectly thick thighs and rounded gut. She seemed to know exactly how to drive Emily crazy, kissing and rubbing her distended belly and pinching her soft, puffy areolas until she was squealing and bucking. Toys were a necessity due to Emily being too full to put much effort into the stimulation herself. Often, Allison would use vibrators and dildos to entice Emily, then finish her off with an intense oral orgasm as she crawled in between Emily’s soft, juicy thighs and lapped at her with a fervent passion. Emily stopped daydreaming, realizing Allison was now standing in front of her, seemingly waiting for a response.

“I guess that look on your face is enough of an answer for me…” Allison said playfully as she crawled atop Emily, gently caressing her doughy gut and using her knee to apply pressure to Emily’s puffy fupa. She moaned in pleasure, eyes cocking back as Allison took the reigns per usual and brought them both to completion. Emily couldn’t remember the last time she had had a serious thought besides eating, cumming, or daydreaming of being fatter and fatter.

Allison had been tidying up in the kitchen, but her mind was swimming with questions. How much longer can she keep Emily in her grasp? Will Emily gain too much traction with her modeling pictures? She could get attention from anyone interested in a bigger woman; hell, she could probably get anyone interested in a woman, period. Her face was still stunning, with a cute button nose and piercing, sharp green eyes, without mention of her perfect smile and plump, soft lips, as a result of the extra padding, a slight double chin, and slightly fatter cheeks bestowed Emily a rounder, softer yet stunning look. Allison had to reel her thoughts from wandering too far, and a knock at the door jarred her back to reality.

“Must be the pizza guy,” she said quietly as she grabbed some cash off the bar island and headed to the front door. her ass bounced into the recliner as she made her way over, nearly tripping over herself. “Someone must have moved that chair, ugh, probably Emily’s big ass.” she thought to herself. Peering through the door’s peephole, Allison saw the red hat and a huge stack of pizzas. A perfect dinner for her growing cow, she thought. She swung the door open and scooped the pizzas out of the delivery boy's arms, handing him a tip through her index and middle finger as she shimmied backwards into the apartment. “Thank you, sir, keep the change!” Allison said as she skillfully turned around and closed the door with her foot.

“Who was that?!” Emily's voice echoed off the hallway walls and down the banister from her room upstairs.

“Pizzas here, my precious!” Allison cried back.

“Bring it up here, I'm staaarving!” Emily whined.

Allison was about to head up the stairs, but she had a better idea.

“Why don't you come down here, Ems, I still need to do a little more work, and you can chill on the couch.”

“Ally, just finish it later, I'm too -urp- full from snacks to come down.”

“I guess you’ll just have to take a break from carb loading and wait then,” Allison said cunningly. It was time to get a little more aggressive with her tactics, and some good humiliation and teasing should do the trick just fine. She couldn't afford for Emily to forget how badly she needed her. Thanks to the rapid gain, Emily’s muscles dwindled, and her stamina was practically non-existent. Emily remained upstairs in silence for a while, the shower was running, so she must have decided to wash off after her last big meal a few hours ago.

Allison was in the zone skillfully pecking away on her thesis report, when she heard the heavy footsteps plop down the hall and to the banister.

“That pizza better be warm still, I’m ravenous right now -huff-“ Emily paused and caught her breath. Allison was surprised by Emily’s look, a full face of makeup complemented her already beautifully round face. The real show stopper however, was the cow print bikini Emily had hanging by threads over her burgeoning tits and massively plump ass. Everything was on full reveal as if she was putting on a show.

“It's all down here and ready to go for you, my plump princess.” Allison teased, craning her neck past her computer screen to watch Emily’s clumsily wobble down the stairs, admiring the sweet jiggle of her huge ass and doughy thighs. As Emily finally made it past the bottom of the stairs and towards Allison, she could have sworn her face was flushed from the walk down the stairs.

“Someone looks winded,” Allison said, standing up and sauntering over to meet Emily on the couch with some pizza and wine

“Oh, whatever, I'm not a marathon runner,” Emily shot back, grabbing the plate and plopping down. Her whole body shook, boobs bouncing up and down as she sunk into the sofa.

“Besides, I know someone who really enjoys how I look now, don't we, my small fry?” Allison couldn't deny such a comment but was just getting her banter started. It was time to apply some pressure and take control of the flustered Emily.

“Yeah, I'm sure all your fans would love to see your flabby, out-of-shape, heavy-breathing and soft jiggling piggy body make it down those stairs again.” Allison purred, grabbing a slice of pizza and holding it up to Emily’s mouth.

“My -mmph- fans? What are you talking about, Ally? “ Emily was in shock, her eyes widened, but still managed to take a huge juicy bite out of Allison’s hand like it was muscle memory.

“C’mon, Ems, don't be coy, I know you're a feedee in the closet, well, you’d barely fit into a closet now, would you, dear piggy?” Allison was calculating and sat mockingly for Emily's reaction to place the pizza directly under her nose again, driving home how much Emily wanted another bite. Emily whimpered softly, unsure of what to do. She slowly opened her mouth, drooling and begging for another bite.

“I’m sorry Ally, I just, I’ve been doing so poorly in school and I don’t even feel like finishing my classes, I haven't even been on Zoom in bed, I’ve just been pretending to study while you work so hard for the both of us…” Allison shoved the pizza into Emily’s mouth. She almost felt bad for teasing Emily and calling her out, but something about it felt so good at the same time. The control, the seizing of the moment, and such a beautiful goddess caught up in her own words, begging to be hand-fed all for her. Allison felt as if she had Emily in the palm of her hand.

“Ems, what do you mean by work hard for both of us…” Allison’s voice trailed off as she realized exactly what it meant. Emily was convinced Allison would never leave her; no, she needed Allison more than anything. Without her, there would be no excuse for her rapid weight gain, laziness, or inability to pass her simple Zoom classes. Emily had quickly discarded her regular life long ago, and now Allison was her only path forward. Allison’s eyes met Emma’s, and they both seemed on the same page. Emma shoved the whole slice into her mouth, making sure to suck the sauce off Allison’s fingers with her most seductive face possible. She breathed heavily, practically eye fucking Allison to win her over.

“Emma, if you want to take us to the next step, then you’re gonna have to impress me a whole lot more than you already do, darling.” Allison got up and went into the pantry. She then grabbed a beer bong and stood tall over Emma’s lazy body, holding the funnel out and grabbing the wine. “I want my piggy to use these pizzas and wine as a demonstration of just how great she can be for me. Just show me how much softer and rounder you want to be my Thicc Cow Girl.” The words echoed through Emma’s head; she was instantly wet, but also surprised by how well everything was turning out. Nobody had ever put her in such a situation; this was a door that once opened, she knew she would never return from. The line between an “experiment”, if there was one to begin with, and devoting her life to pleasing Allison, getting fatter and softer, devouring everything in her path, and being the hedonistic, lazy cow she had always wanted to be subconsciously. Emily knew she had wanted this for a while now, unsure of how long ago her primal desires had bubbled up, but certain they were her own. Emily grabbed the funnel and locked eyes with Allison, her eyes screaming, “Please let me show you!”. Allison emptied the whole wine bottle in, and Emily guzzled it all down like a vacuum.

“UUUUURP- Ally, I-I’m sorry I tried to go behind your back, I just want to impress you so bad.” Emily put the funnel down and grabbed Allison's hands, squeezing them with assurance. “I won’t lie to you again, I’m sorry.” Allison hadn’t expected such a reaction, but eager to cement her status as the feeder, accepted Emily’s apology and grabbed a few boxes of pizza. Now it was time for Allison to enact total control over Emily’s lifestyle and have some fun. Emily knew everything had played out perfectly so far, and now it was time for the real show to start.

“You know, Ally, I think I always wanted this… kind of relationship with someone that’s so balanced yet wild.” Emma was lying back, her belly massive and packed to the brim with wine and pizza. She was drunk and stuffed to the gills, high off of several orgasms and loving life.

“Well, Ems, I’m just glad things turned out this way. I’ve always liked you, but once you started putting on weight for me, I just couldn’t resist any longer. I knew I needed you completely under my control so we could enjoy each other.” Emily cocked an eye open and slowly raised her head, it was almost painful to sit up, but she knew now was the perfect time for her plan to spring into action.

“Ally, help me up, please. I’m not done showing you how much of a good piggy I am,” Emily said seductively. She lifted her arms and let Allison take hold, she grunted as her weight slowly lifted off the couch and she stood up, belly massively distended and poking out in front of her. Emily attempted to bend over and grab another box of pizza, but almost toppled over from the sheer weight of her gut. Allison was so turned on she could barely tell if Emily was putting on a show or was truly this enamored with being her ditzy prize cow.

“Woah! Easy girl, you’re at max capacity right now!” Allison said, worrying she may have broken Emily down too far, too quickly.

“This one’s not for me, babes.” Emma slowly stood upright, one hand holding the pizza and the other pushing Allison down onto the couch. As smoothly as an overfed cow could, Emily lowered herself on top of Allison and pinned her underneath her bloated belly, which sloshed and jiggled in Allison’s lap. The pair was both so turned on that it all happened as smoothly as butter.

“Ugh, Emily, you’re so heavy, and what do you mean that isn’t for you? You know I can’t eat that much, cut it out!” Emily folded the pizza in half and shoved it into Allison’s open mouth. “Mmmph, what’s the big idea, girl!” Allison tried to protest, but was met with an unending torrent of pizza. Emily smiled wickedly as she force-fed her helpless feeder bite after bite. No amount of squirming could free her from Emily’s thick, fat-laden body.

“You know, I’ve been getting so big for you, but I think I want my lover to indulge herself for me too sometimes, god, imagine how fucking hot it would be if we were both so huge and soft, our bellies pressing into another as we stuff each other and grow softer, rounder, bigger, for each other.” Emily’s body shuddered, her fat jiggling all over. She had just orgasmed at the thought of what she had said, and Allison was slowly building up tension herself, slowly succumbing to Emily’s words and enticing body enveloping her in juicy warmth. Emily grabbed a bottle of rose and put it to Allison’s lips. Half of the pizza was gone now, and Emily had no intention of stopping. Allison drained the bottle, sucking it dry with a fervent passion. Her head was swimming with thoughts, but she couldn’t focus on anything but how full and aroused she was.

“Ems, I can’t do this. We both know one of us has to be in charge, and it’s me.”

“But is it? Does it always have to be you? All of your hard work to make me a submissive sow, and no fun for you at all? I think we should both be rewarded sometimes.” Emily plunged her tongue into Allison's mouth, her fat cleavage pressing onto Allison's smaller frame, enveloping her. Allison let go of her remaining will, accepting defeat as she locked lips with Emily. She was completely lost in a storm of bliss and passion, unable to deny herself anymore. After another hour of cooing and prodding, Emily had successfully incapacitated Allison for the night.

The two girls lie motionless on the couch, cuddled up as best as they could without aggravating each other's fully stretched stomachs. Emily was still slightly awake, pondering the past few hours of passion and intensity. She knew she would end up the bigger girl, but was determined to make sure Allison wasn’t far behind. She gazed at the stairs that overlooked the couch from across the room. Her phone was still sitting just where she had placed it, hopefully recording everything that had unfolded that night. Emily knew she had hours of prime feedism content ready to upload after a little polish work. A few more sessions like this and she would be raking in the money and piling on the pounds with her “feeder” Allison doing the same.

It had been two months since Emily uploaded her hour-long stuffing video titled “Tricking my dom feeder into getting fat for me!” She was raking in new subscriptions faster than imaginable. With her career taking off and money steadily increasing, Emily took a final step into the deep end and dropped out of college. She was now a full-time fetish model and had no intention of ever going back. Emily was now 250 lbs and looked fuller than ever. Her double chin had fully formed, giving her plump lips and cheeks a softer look overall and a glowing warmth when she smiled. Her upper body was now matching her soft, juicy ass below, with her belly sticking far past her thick, bloated thighs and her upper arms being so fat they looked overfilled with lard. None of her clothes fit, but she didn’t wear much besides bathrobes and lingerie for filming. Emily’s ploy to fatten Allison succeeded with ease. Hours of staying in to finish her final study, and Emily’s rampant appetite and sexual hunger had left Allison as homebound as Emily. She had been ordering more and more takeout and kept Allison topped off on snacks and sexual favors for the last two months. The formerly fit girl was now a real fat girl at 180lbs. Emily still wasn’t satisfied, but remained steadfast to plump her oblivious lover up to her standards.

“Emily, can you help me with something really quick?” Allison asked, fully absorbed in her work. “Can you describe how it felt when you were at your starting weight and how you feel now at 250 lbs? I’m like maybe two days away from finishing this thing, so we’re officially almost done with this experiment.” Emily peeked around the corner of the bathroom door and smiled sheepishly.

“Well, when I was skinny, I felt like life was dull. I felt that I was missing something. I hated my career choice and was dragging myself through school, half aware of what I was doing. But now, well, I feel great. I love spending every hour of my day binging my favorite food, enjoying all the drinks I want, and stuffing myself silly knowing every pound will make me more money and drive you even wilder than the last. I love how scary it is. I've been gaining so fast -huff- and things like talking for this long make me out of breath. I love smothering your smaller frame with my fat fucking cow body, and the sex is so good I’m practically wet right now.” Emily waddled from behind the door, fully nude, and her nipples were hard. “I can’t even talk about it, it -huff- turns me on so fucking much.” Emily was squeezing her legs together and fondling her overstuffed gut. She eyed Allison down greedily and slowly waddled over. “I think someone else has been enjoying it too, so much so they decided to join me.” Allison was in a trance, enamored by Emily’s passion and so turned on she almost didn’t hear the last part.

“You’re joking about the last part, right? You’re a giant cow, and I’ve still retained my sexy body despite your pleas to fatten me up.” Allison lacked confidence in her tone, and Emily pounced on it.

“Allison, get naked for me,” Emily said, grabbing some unfinished donuts off their bed from her midday snack. The food and Emily’s delicious naked body encapsulated Allison, demolishing any thought in her head like a trance. She reached for the hem of her shirt but realized it wasn’t at her waist; rather, it rolled up comfortably at the top of her belly. It was so, so soft and squishy, but how and when had it gotten so much bigger? Allison didn’t care, she disregarded the thought and looked at Emily, her thighs jiggling in unison with her stomach and tits. Emily raised the donut to her lips and brought her hand to Allison's womanhood. “If you like how huge and soft I am, why don’t you stuff me full of these fattening little donuts and blimp me up so you can fuck me more baby?” Allison was soaked and hurriedly grabbed the donut from Emily and placed it into her mouth. Emily leaned over Allison, her puffy tits hanging inches from her face while her belly pressed into her thighs. The warm, soft feeling of Emily’s body and her moaning while she devoured the donut was driving Allison crazy with lust. She tried to get up and grab another donut, but Emily leaned farther forward, shoving her fat, corpulent body onto Allison. The chair strained to hold both of their weight despite Emily not even fully on it. Emily finished the donut and grabbed another, taking a bite and then putting it to Allison's lips. “Why don’t you enjoy some too? You deserve it for making me such a fat, greedy cow.” Allison opened her mouth and finished the second donut, then a third, and a fourth. After a few more minutes of stuffing and stimulation, Allison came hard. Her belly was stuffed tight, and her head was dizzy from such an orgasm and sugar rush. Now she would crash and sleep for a few hours while Emily downloaded the camera footage and uploaded another video to make hundreds off of.

This cycle repeated for weeks and months. Emily fattening herself up and sneakily feeding Allison, priming her brain to crave food and sex just like she had to her. Allison lost motivation to finish her study, motivation to even show up to class, and spent her days making excuses and dulling her mind with Emily.

“I’m so tired, I’ll just take a quick nap,” Allison said, crawling into bed beside her large, soft, warm partner, falling asleep with her distended belly digesting a huge meal. “This report still has a few weeks left, there’s no use doing it now.” Allison thought, taking a large sip from the milkshake Emily had door dashed her. “God, I feel so bloated, I’m really overdoing it right now.” Allison would say as Emily shushed her and readied another bite. “Sometimes it’s worth oversleeping, waking up to your company, my fat cow.” Allison would coo while straddling Emily’s giant, flabby gut, her legs wrapped around her thick waist and dimpled, jiggly ass.

The excused continued for months while the two hedonists enjoyed their days shoveling down food, taking naps, and fucking constantly. As Emily ballooned further, Allison chased right after her, their bodies becoming softer, rounder, more fuckable. Cellulite dotted their huge asses and thighs, their stomachs went from stiff and hard from stuffing to jiggly and saggy, slowly creeping down their fat legs. Allison’s breasts remained firm and held themselves over her plump gut, but Emily’s had sagged and fought for space with her huge dome of fat she called a gut. Her stomach was so wide, it pushed her fat breasts further apart, peeking out from in between them. Emily was now 330 lbs and a complete cow, while Allison was 225 lbs and completely transformed into a happy fat cow like Emily wanted. Their joint content channel supplied all the money needed for bills and food. A new, bigger apartment and sexy outfits for videos came next, then sex toys and larger furniture to accommodate the two voluptuous women. Emily had finally won her battle, but remained far from stopping what she had started.

“Ooooh that feels so fucking good baby, fuck right there!” Emily huffed and grunted, her huge ass rippling and sending waves across her obese body. Her stomach touched the bed and she had two pillows propping her round face and fat tits off the bed. Allison was a sweating heaving mess, trying desperately to maintain speed while using a strap-on to plow into Emily’s bovine ass doggy-style. It was one of the few positions that could work for the two without their fat, lard-ripened bodies obstructing each other from pleasure.

“I can’t-huff, uhhhhhhghhh- go much longer, Ems.” Allison was nearing climax, but her out-of-shape body was failing her. “I’m too fucking fat for this shit, -huff- and I’m about to cum from the vibrator inside me.” Allison bucked wildly for a moment then collapsed on Emily’s giant ass and back, the strap-on penetrating deep inside Emily as they both climaxed simultaneously. Emily moaned loudly, eyes rolling back as Allison trembled, jiggling her whole body. “I think we’re getting too fat for this position, we need to figure something out, love.”

“I ordered something to accommodate us, don’t worry, Ally.” Emily huffed and grunted, breathing heavily despite having barely moved during sex. “Two fuck machines and two large funnels with a valve for opening and closing.” Emily giggled playfully, ready to fatten both of them beyond recognition.

#wg txt #feedee gainer #fat girls #fat piggy #wg fiction #wg writing #getting fatter on purpose #18 + content

1K notes · View notes

yahoo201027 · 10 months ago

Text

Vote 2024: Entering the second round of the playoffs of the 2024 season and after two weeks since the Wild Card...and the extra week because your boy needed a replacement battery for the laptop, we have finally made it. The Quarterfinals of the 2024 Battle of the Week Voting Tournament and a bit of a shuffle with the first two matches with this match to be one that will start things off. The defending champions Bob's Burgers with Louise Belcher on a ten-match winning streak since her championship run last year. The favorites to repeat as champions and the most loaded fanbase throughout the 2024 season. Going toe-to-toe against Cole Tillerman from Central Park after winning their first playoff win in franchise history, hoping to continue their Cinderella story and ready to face his biggest challenge yet, attempting to take down the defending champions. Who will win? You decide! Vote today! AND NO SPAM VOTING!!!

#bob's burgers #bobs burgers #bob’s burgers #the bob's burgers movie #central park #central park tv #central park apple tv #louise belcher #cole tillerman #cartoon #animation #vote 2024 #election 2024 #battle of the week #battle of the week 2024 #quarterfinals #match 1 #poll

0 notes

bluemousewithanxiety · 2 months ago

Text

listen, I love a big, built like a brick house, tall, broad shoulders, tattooed, bike riding, doberman/blackcat personality types (but are actually sweethearts on the inside), older, guy. I will yap till the cows come home....

but there is something about a TALL, soft mop of hair, soft hearted, stuttering, wears soft sweaters, a little shy, slutty little waist, wears glasses, that just makes my heart flutter so gently and softly....

NerdGojo! to me is like the perfect embodiment of this type of man.

NerdGojo! is 6"3, shaggy white hair always tossed to perfection, wears his usual well fitted pastel coloured sweaters to class, always pushing up his glasses with his knuckles when it slides down his nose, has his head buried in a textbook or his Nintendo switch, always on time, has the same routine every week and never strays far from it.

NerdGojo! is a little shy, and a little experienced and will admit that when you two started talking he is texting his friends to figure out what to say, is it the right thing to say? Should he have doubled texted? He texted you at 6am, are you even awake? Shit he didn't send a goodnight text yesterday? Oh god what has he done.

NerdGojo! would constantly be in subreddits trying to figure out the things to say, information to know (ex. tv shows, Iconic movies), what girls like in terms gestures. Do you like flowers? Chocolate? Nick-nacks? Do you have a favourite flower? man's low-key freaking out.

NerdGojo! will take a suggestion from someone online about having a note on his phone of everything you said you ever liked so he knows what to get you for your birthday and any special holiday.

NerdGojo! loves when you ask him for help, could be as simple as asking him to reach something on a tall shelf, helping you with homework, even with mundane tasks like grocery shopping. He will be pushing the grocery cart with a love-sick grin on his face while you scurry around collecting things on your list, he just loves making these small memories with you.

NerdGojo! would become invested in your corny dating shows, "trash" tv, anything that you watch on a regular basis that would be considered a guilty pleasure. He started off just walking by, saying that "they had no intellectual value and how they're made to just rot your brain", but 1 season later he is glued to the couch, mochi in hand, getting annoyed if you watch an episode without him.

NerdGojo! would be the type to do stuff unintentionally to make you swoon, like grasping your shoulders lightly to move you in front of him when he sees someone speed-walking with them looking at their phone.

NerdGojo! on a busy day using public transit and people are just pressed up against one another, if you're both standing, he will stand behind you with one hand on the upper bar and one around you so you don't get crushed or bumped into. When he gets a little bit more comfortable with you, he will innocently offer up his lap when sitting after hours of walking so you can rest your feet.

If you tell NerdGojo! that sometimes when you carry stuff in your arms for long periods of time your upper back will hurt for the rest of the day he will just start carrying your luggage, purse, groceries, whatever it may be without question. He doesn't want to see you in pain and it gives him a chance to puff out his chest and put his arm workouts to use. So he's content on doing something so insignificant to most, but means the world to him.

honestly, I feel like NerdGojo! would be the type to write you hand written letters, with corny love poems, filled with your favourite quotes, stuff he saw that reminded him of you, and will actually go through the effort in going to the post office, picking out a cute stamp, and have them send it your address without saying anything to you and just waits for your reaction.

If you ever told NerdGojo! that you had a local stray cat you saw outside your house/neighbourhood and how you always stop to give it head scratches before you came to class, he will literally start carrying cat treats in his bag when he comes over.

NerdGojo! would melt the moment you first said, "Satoru." He looked at you like you held all the stars in the night sky together in a beautiful mosaic.

NerdGojo! when he realizes a few weeks in that, no matter how much he overthinks, no matter how much he thinks he's fucking up...

You will always be waiting for him to catch up, your eyes will light up when you make eye contact with him in a crowded room, you remember small details about his favourite video games, you will rub his back softly while he shrimps over his computer, you will take his glasses off his head when he accidentally falls asleep at his desk, you will always be listening like he's the only one in the room, and so much more.

NerdGojo! is someone who allowed his fears of people taking advantage of him, lying about their intentions, not only from seeing it in his family, but just the horror stories he see's online and with his friends. Initially thinking that he would be content being alone romantically, he's done it his entire life, what's another 80 years?

But, through spending time with you, NerdGojo! was able to put his guard down and realize how full his heart feels everyday with you, and how a life without you wouldn't be as bright.

#blue writes 📝#nerdgojo!#gojo satoru #JJK x reader #JJK AU #satoru gojo x reader #I NEED this off my chest real quick #Gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader

481 notes · View notes

heartyluv · 2 months ago

Note

Hiiii I have a little request/inspo for you if you would like it 😚🤲🏽 As I was reading your camboy fics (I am obsessed btw), I couldn't stop thinking about reader being the one who maybe has an onlyfans or sells things like her panties for money 👀 And perhaps caleb is her #1 fan because we all know he loves panty sniffing. Then maybe a dash of his usual yandere/stalker tendencies ensue because he believes he's the only one of your fans who truly appreciates you. Idk, maybe there's nothing more to explore here, but I needed to share with you bc I know you will pick up what I'm putting down

- @asiatic-apple

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆ لا ⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺‎

Note: Thank you for the lovely idea. I hope this meets your expectations!

Creds to @/omi-resources & @/anitalenia for the dividers!

Rating: Explicit - !!Minors DO NOT Interact!!

Warning: Smut, Caleb basically pays to sleep with you, He’s a little bit of a creep LOLL, Panty fucking, He’s been in your apartment without your knowledge, Sex on camera.

Word Count: 2,708

Summary: Caleb is obsessed with his precious camgirl.

Stalker!Caleb/Camgirl!Reader

Finding you fundamentally changed Caleb’s life. He never thought he’d be the type of man to pay for the things he’s paid you for, but here he was, almost ten grand deep, paying you to see the most beautiful things he’s ever had the luxury to lay his eyes on.

When he found you, he thought you were a simple content creator, just a pretty girl who likes to do live streams for fun. When someone initially starts looking through your page, they find you reacting to movies and tv shows, playing popular video games, and even showing tips and tricks on how you take care of your hair.

He thought you were cool, but you didn’t do things he thought he’d be interested in watching. Until he found the tab that said 18+ Only - Must Pay To Enter. That was what hooked him like a hungry fish. And you weren’t cheap, he liked that. Just to enter was $100. He wasn’t ashamed when he put his card information in without hesitation, because he was gifted with the glorious sight that was you.

Videos of you playing with your pretty pussy, using toys and your fingers to please yourself, and images of you bent over, spread open, was what captivated him. He’ll never forget the first time he joined your explicit live. People were gifting you so much cash—hundreds.

Your highest payment was almost two grand, and he understood why anyone was putting money in your pocket just to see you come. He’s never come so hard in his life when he watched your slender fingers slip in and out of your wet hole. The way you bit your lip, the way your eyes rolled back, the way you creamed so beautifully… he needed more.

He didn’t give a damn how much anyone was paying you. They would never, ever, appreciate you the way he does. They would never value such beauty and art like he did with you. And because of that, he has to keep you.

So he took it upon himself to find where you lived. Being a colonel offered him access to technology to be able to easily do things like this. And when he found that you lived only forty five minutes away, he knew the universe was hitting him in the face with destiny.

The first time he came to your home was when you posted an announcement, saying you’d be gone for the next two weeks for a quick family emergency. It was absolutely perfect, and he spent time in your apartment like it was his own. Getting inside was incredibly simple, too. With a simple summon of his gravity evol, he was turning your lock and stepping inside.

He only went during the night time after he got off work and drove nearly an hour every time to be able to figure out who you were. He found all the information he needed; pictures, birth certificate, important documents, journals. He knew you. All he needed was for you to see him so that the relationship he craved could come into fruition.

During his visits, he found your stash of toys that he frequently watches you come on. He even saw the light pink pillow he paid you to hump for $800 while you moaned his name, something he paid you an extra $50 to do. He ended up humping that same pillow himself in your bed his first night, smelling your essence and becoming terribly aroused at the fact that he was in the same place that you fill that hot cunt with everything but him.

After he found your empty laundry hamper, he frowned to see that you took it upon yourself to wash your clothes before you left. But then when he discovered your pantry drawer, all bets were off. He took two pairs for himself, rummaging through the rest to see the red lace pair that you wore before you peeled them down your soft legs to rub your needy clit against the material of the pillow.

He jerked off with that same pair for three days before they became an unusable mess. The way the lace material glided against his cock, the image of them squeezing against your fat pussy and sinking into your pillowy lips was all he needed to come hard and fast every single time.

Caleb was addicted in a way that motivated him. He ended up paying you for so many private videos that he became your top contributor. You knew him by name, but you didn’t know him. And he wanted to change that.

So when you returned from your trip, he proposed an idea to you that he was taking a risk on, but he figured it was the only way to put himself in your life without you suspecting anything.

Sending you a message, he said: Hello, beautiful. It’s Caleb. I want to ask you for something that I know will make you hesitate, but for you, I can be a patient man. I want you so much. It’s in a way that even I can’t understand. So, I’m offering you $5,000 to let me fuck you. I will make sure you have all my information, as well as recently completed tests. Your safety and peace of mind means that much to me. I’m waiting. I always will.

When you read it, you were absolutely thrown off. But you were intrigued, most of all. You’d never been paid by a fan with so much money all at once, nor has any of them had audacity to ask you for such a thing. You should be disturbed, unnerved. But your pussy was throbbing in your pants at the thought, at his…confidence.

So, you sent him a reply and you said yes. He sent you the money immediately with interest. And like he said, all his information was sent to you, down to his address and test results to confirm that he was clean. You did the same out of courtesy, but you had to admit. This was a lot. But it was a lot in the sense that you couldn’t help but find out what would happen.

You let him come to your apartment and sent him directions. It was silly to Caleb, in fact it made him smile. He knew how to get to you three different ways without navigation. He would always know how to get to his pretty girl.

And when he saw you face to face for the first time, he didn’t know what kept him upright, but he thanked it because his knees almost buckled at your gorgeous face. His breath grew ragged as he stared you down. From the tight t-shirt and shorts to the way your doe eyes looked up at him, he knew that you would always belong to him. And you didn’t even know it yet.

“It’s so nice to see you,” he said softly.

“Likewise,” you smiled. Caleb had sent you a picture of him before you agreed, but it didn’t do him any justice. This man was ethereal. “Please, come in.”

Was it crazy to let a stranger in your house to fuck you? Absolutely. You knew that. But Caleb wasn’t a stranger. You’d find that out soon enough.

“I’m sorry,” you huff out a laugh once he’s inside and you shut the door. “I don’t mean to be nervous. I just don’t exactly know how to go about... starting? I’ve never done anything like this.”

He looks around the familiar space, loving how you don’t know a fucking thing. He wonders if you’ve smelled him in your sheets or noticed your missing panties yet.

“It’s okay,” he assures. What he really wanted to say was that he knows. He’s read your journals and learned that you’re more shy than you are extroverted.

“Would you like me to help? I’m more than happy to make your pussy wet,” he says lustfully with hooded eyes.

Your eyes widen, thrown off by the filthy words from a man who looks and seems like a sweet puppy. You clear your throat, not trusting your voice to speak for you and just nod.

He walks up to you, his muscles rippling beneath his white shirt. You look up at him as his hands start to feel on your plush body. If only you could read his mind, you’d understand how fucking ecstatic he was right now.

Feeling you for the first time was like winning the lottery. He couldn’t stop the soft groan that came out of him when he felt how your plump ass filled his strong hands, how you gasped when he pulled you close to inhale your scent that he already knows so well.

Vanilla and a mix of lavender. He ended up buying the same bottle of perfume you love and kept it at his house for when he missed you.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks sweetly.

“I’d like that…”

He kisses your jaw first, using your ass to push you into him as if you couldn’t be any closer. You feel his cock, but only a little through his jeans. And he’s hung—thick.

“Thank you for letting me be here,” he bites your ear. “You don’t know how special you are to me.”

You don’t say anything, whimpering at the soft smooches he trails down the side of your neck. You honestly just think it’s sweet talk and lust, but for him? This is love.

When he finally sticks his tongue in your mouth, all the gentleness he intended to use is gone. He’s ravishing you, making you lose your breath as he sucks on your lips like a sweet treat. He bites them, licks them to soothe the pain, before doing it all over again as you cry into his mouth.

“Where’s your phone?” he mumbles against your lips.

“What?” you ask frazzled.

“Your phone. So we can stream this for your page.”

“Caleb…” you take a moment. “I don’t know if that’s—”

“Let me fuck you on camera, baby. Please.. I’ll make you feel so good. I want everyone to see it.”

“This isn’t a game. For your safety—”

“I don’t give a fuck about me. Just tell me yes..” he cuts you off, and pleads as he plays with the hem of your shirt.

You find yourself succumbing to him often, more than you’d like to admit because you bring your phone to him and he props it up on your kitchen counter that has a view of your couch.

You’re so wet that you can feel it with every step you take. You start the live for him and he’s so happy to see the hundreds of people flood in, enjoying their curiosity.

iluv2cum: Who is that?? 👀

ForDaFanss: Is this a surprise collab?

here4fun: Omg, is this your boyfriend?

Go0nCr3w: SURPRISE LIVE!?!!?

With you two in frame, he doesn’t waste anymore time. He’s about to show everyone who you belong to and his cock is more than ready.

You whimper as he flips you, bending you over the back of your couch. Your hips sway side to side, whining when the cool air wisps against your wet pussy when he tugs your shorts and panties off. He makes you come out of them completely, taking the panties and bringing them to his nose. Your pussy clenches when you look behind you him to see him deeply inhale the baby blue lace like your scent gives him life. This is what he was looking for.

He puts them in his back pocket, undoing his belt buckle and zipper to get his cock out. He’s never been so hard.

He slaps your ass with his length, the echo and sting of colliding flesh making you leak. You feel him bring himself between your lips, moving back and forth in between them without slipping inside.

You gasp. “Holy fuck…You’re big...”

He smiles, letting the tip touch your clit to make your back arch. “Push back for me, baby. Let me in.”

You toot your ass up and push back like he wants. And as your hole is being stretched by his fat cock, when you hear how soaked he’s really made you, you cry out so loud that you’re sure you’ll get a noise complaint.

Pushing into you for the first time is what he can only equate to heaven. This is going to be his for life.

He’s not gentle, he can’t bring himself to be. He grips your hips hard as he watches his cock get covered in your juices, watches how he effortlessly slides in and out of you.

He looks at the phone to see the mass influx of likes and fluttering hearts across the screen. Knowing that they’ll never get what he’s keeping makes him fuck you even harder.

“You suck me in so fucking good,” he coos. “I knew you would. I knew you were made for me.”

“Yes…” you whimper as you grip onto the couch. “Fuck, right there, Caleb…”

“You feel me in your stomach, don’t you? That’s where I’m meant to be. Deep inside you,” he rolls his hips so you really feel every inch. “We compete each other. It’s about time you found that out.”

Your tits press against the couch, the rough thrusts making your hard nipples grind against it beneath your shirt. He’s captivated at the way your ass bounces against him, showing how good you take him like you’re supposed to be.

“Arch it more for me, pretty,” he guides you, pressing his palm to your back. “Take your cum, let me put it where it’s supposed to be.”

His commands make tears form in your eyes as you get ready to take his load. You’ve never felt a cock like this, never felt such power like him. “Caleb…I’m gonna come…”

“I know,” he says breathlessly, stopping for a moment and spitting where you’re connected, watching how his saliva mingles with all the fluid. Then he’s moving again as you clench over and over to suck him back in. “Let me take you there. I’ll be the only one doing it from now on.”

The way he talks like he owns you should scare the shit out of you. Instead, it makes you match his thrusts as he pulses deep inside of you. His fat tip kisses your cervix over and over and over, and when he presses his hand on the back of your neck to keep you down as you take him, you finally come.

“That’s it,” he grunts. “Let them see who makes you cream.”

The way he takes you is being captured for so many to see, and that’s exactly what he wants. No more will you be alone—because he’s here.

You scream his name, grabbing the couch like it feels impossible to ground yourself. When his thick cum spills into you shortly after, you feel how it leaks down your inner thigh as you shake from the intense pleasure.

He gently rocks his hips to push his cum deeper and all that’s heard once he stills is both of you breathing heavily. He pulls out slowly, making you hiss and miss the way he filled you. He then goes to grab your phone to see that the views went from hundreds to thousands, more than he’s ever seen when he watched you. He flips the camera so they get a good shot of your leaking hole.

“This is mine,” he whispers, running his thumb down your lips and smearing his spend. He grasps his cock that’s still half hard, using the tip to rub it all around like he’s staking his claim.

“Fuckk..” he says deeply as some of it leaks to the floor. “If she didn’t know it before, she knows now. And so do all of you.”

He abruptly ends the stream, leaving everyone wet, hard, aching, and confused.

“I meant what I said.” You jolt and cry at the overstimulation when he puts his cock right back inside of your raw and sensitive pussy.

“You and I own each other. Thank you letting me in. Because now,” he leans down and kisses your shoulder.

“You’re never getting rid of me.”

#love and deepspace #love and deespace smut #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace caleb #caleb smut #caleb x reader #caleb x you

434 notes · View notes

hamzahsbiggestfan · 4 months ago

Text

bf!hamzah x gf!reader headcannons `✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:

bf!hamzah who is your #1 supporter and is soso proud of any accomplishments you make, no matter how small, he will take you out to dinner to celebrate

bf!hamzah who will carry you if you two are walking and your feet start to hurt

bf!hamzah who knows you more than you know yourself, from your favorite movie, down to your favorite pair of socks

bf!hamzah who will do everything he can to cheer you up if you’re having a bad day, imagine him running you a bubble bath and when you get out he already has a pillow fort set up with all your favorite snacks for you guys to binge watch a new tv show. omg

bf!hamzah who is so proud to be your boyfriend, trying to show you off in every way possible

bf!hamzah who could listen to you talk for hours and will stay attentive to the things you say, even if what you’re saying is half nonsense, he loves when you tell him about your day or even random lore about something you saw on tiktok, he just loves knowing that he’s the first person you come to when you need to rant

bf!hamzah who will always be down to build legos with you, even if it takes you half the day and you had to restart twice cause you kept messing up

bf!hamzah who will not shut up about you, no actually. when he’s filming with martin and you were at home or working, he will take every opportunity he gets to talk about how much he misses you

bf!hamzah who will buy everything for you even tho you can afford it yourself, don’t even try opening your wallet around this man

bf!hamzah who will show his love and adoration to you in every way possible, whether it’d be kissing every inch of your face or holding your hands when you’re in a crowd

bf!hamzah who will always give you updates and send cute little pictures of red and blue if you’re not home with him

bf!hamzah who never lets your flowers die, will get you a new bouquet every week and make sure he picks out a different variation every time (never neon flowers)

hiiii guysss! i had so much fun writing this and i still have so many more ideas so let me know if you want a part twoooo

also send fic requests cuz i’m in my writing grind :pp

735 notes · View notes

awhhayden · 4 months ago

Text

GOD BLESS YOUR DADS GENETICS ⋆˚࿔ [PT.1]

CONTAINS : [ fem!reader x dilf!james x son!sam ]

DISCLAIMER: I do not condone cheating, this is fictional and all characters are 18+ [ NO INCEST ]

꩜.ᐟ You had been dating Sam kelly for six months now. You were always over at his house lounging around in your tiny pjs and skirts. Sam lived with his father James kelly, Sam’s mother left when Sam was very young. James had always enjoyed teasing you and poking fun at Sam. You couldn’t help but enjoy both of their companies…

꩜.ᐟ Sam Kelly, who’s house you have practically lived at for the past Six months, who would give you soft kisses in bed, and would rub your back until you fell asleep. Sam Kelly who would show you his favorite comic books and let you play Taylor Swift as loud as you wanted on his brand new stereo set.

꩜.ᐟ James Kelly, who’d wake you and Sam up with pancakes and bacon, who’d carry you upstairs to Sam’s room after you fell asleep on the couch whilst Sam was at work. James Kelly who’d let you pick out a cheesy romance on movie night and act like he wasn’t interested but was secretly invested, James who’d roll his eyes and smile and hand you his credit card to go grocery shopping for the house.

꩜.ᐟ Tonight you lounge on their couch, Your legs dangling off the edge as you lay your head in Sam’s lap, Sam munched on a bag of chips whilst you both watched the TV, Suddenly the front door clicked open and James walked around the corner into the living room and tickled your feet, you yelped and snatched your legs up “James!” you squealed, he laughed his deep hearty laugh and wiped his dirty hands on his work jeans “I ordered pizza kiddos” he said. James always ordered you guys pizzas on Fridays, “Sausage?” Sam asked rasing his eyebrow, “You know it” James winked his eye.

30 minutes later the three of you were sat in the living room, Pizza and soda in hand scrolling on Netflix. “Oh! can we watch That one?” you asked excitedly pointing to yet another Romance movie. “What?! No! you picked last week!” Sam objected. You gave him a pouty look. James cleared his throat, “How about this one? we will meet in the middle” James suggested. “Fine by me” Sam shrugged, you nodded.

Torwards the end of the movie you were dozing off, Sam got up from the couch “I’m gonna go smoke real quick” he leaned down and pecked your forehead before walking out the back door. You snuggled into the arm of the couch sleepily. James sat in the recliner sipping his beer, eyes on the TV screen. You yawn and stretch, James glances over at you and laughs “Tired Princess?” he asks raising an eyebrow. You stand up “Yeah Yeah,” you wave him off as you head up the stairs “Goodnight James” you yawn once more, He looks up the stairs “Goodnight sweetheart” he calls after you.

꩜.ᐟ late in the night James woke up. He yawned and stretched before standing up and stepping into his slippers. He rubbed his eyes before lazily walking out into the hallway and towards the bathroom. Halfway through the hall he stopped dead in his tracks. Was that?…he thought to himself. “Oh Sam mhm” he heard you moan quietly yet softly. James took a step forward to Sam’s bedroom door.

the bed was creaking slightly. Your soft moans and whimpers could hardly be heard, but James heard them. His face reddened and he took a step back. His palms were sweating and for the first time in a long time, James Kelly was flustered. He hurried to the bathroom and quietly shut the door. It wasn’t enough. Your soft moans could still be heard. James leaned forward palms on the sink trying to ignore the betrayal in his pants. He looked in the mirror and saw his flushed expression. He splashed some cold water on his face.

James’s mind was racing he flipped the seat down and sat down on the toilet. The growing tent in his pants was obvious and he groaned. James hesitated before he reached his hand down in his pants. He wouldn’t be able to sleep like this. He leaned his head back and palmed himself. Another moan could be heard from behind the wall and James sighed as he stroked himself again.

Before he knew it he was stroking himself in time with your moans. Faster and faster. He imagined your pretty face, your soft skin, your concentrated face as you chased your high. He imagined it was him on top of you with you withering and moaning beneath him. It only took a few more strokes before James quietly groaned as he released himself onto his stomach.

as he cleaned himself up your moans had stopped and he assumed you guys had finished. He splashed some cold water in his face once more and looked at his reflection ‘what the hell is wrong with me?’ he thought in shame and disgust. You were his son’s girlfriend for crying out loud. You were 20+ years younger than him. You were to soft. Too sweet and innocent for someone like him.

꩜.ᐟ the next morning you awoke to the smell of pancakes and the bed next to you empty, You scurried out of bed and hopped down the stairs. “Hmm yummy” you commented as you walked into the kitchen. Sam was at the table eating a plate, “Sammy, why didn’t you wake me up?” you pouted at him. He grinned “I know better than to wake sleeping beauty” he teased. James was at the stove flipping pancakes.

He quickly plopped them down onto a plate before turning around and handing it to you without a word. His expression was something you couldn’t place. You took the plate before walking past him to the butter and syrup. Your shoulder brushed his arm and he quickly stepped back and cleared his throat, “I..um- I’ve got to get to work. See you later Sammy” James said patting Sam’s shoulder before walking out the door without another word. You arched a brow “What’s up with him?” you asked Sam as you poured syrup on your plate. Sam shrugged “I guess he didn’t sleep well” he said taking another bite.

and indeed he didn’t….

ahh kinda nervous about this series! not sure where it’s going yet but let me know what team ur on so far…

TAGLIST: @anakinstwinklebunny @fredswrite @divineani @speaknow-sw @nikiloveshayden @haydensheartt

ask to join!! <3

675 notes · View notes

fallstaticexit · 2 months ago

Text

Chapter 2

a slice of life gameplay comic about friendships, love, acceptance, grief, and remembering to always enjoy the whims of life.

Volume 1 Chapter 2 - Coming soon

Woooooo , I'm back! (kind of!) If you've been following my posts the past week or so, I've been sharing some world building as I recreate the following worlds for my gameplay: Brindleton Bay, Newcrest & Glimmerbrook (with goals to do Willow Creek and Oasis Springs at a later time).

The inspiration for this save came from a creative burnout where I began playing other games and watching tv shows and movies (and touching grass). Lost Records Bloom and Rage, Life is Strange, Yellowjackets, School Spirits and the such has inspired this save and made me want to create a big open world from a small town perspective where everyone knew everyone and the lore runs deep.

I’ll share more soon, but I still have some work to do on the world and the town. Can’t wait to give an official tour! I almost want to make a YouTube video for how much story I TOOL’d in this save lol this will be 100% gameplay driven refashioned into story shared in comic book format.

#h.a.g.s vol 1 #hags gameplay #brine bay #sims 4 comic #sims 4 simblr #ts4 simblr #sims 4 stories #sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 legacy

481 notes · View notes

capuccinodoll · 5 months ago

Text

The boyfriend act, part 1: "The one with the proposal" Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!reader SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter summary: The journey from Dallas to Austin is tense but tolerable, as you and Frankie do your best to ignore the mutual disdain simmering between you. But everything derails when a chance encounter with Harry—your ex—and his fiancée pushes you to tell a spur-of-the-moment lie. Frankie’s reaction makes it clear he’s not on board. WC: 14.3k

A/N: Okay, here's my new baby! And I fucking love it! I hope you enjoy this story as much as I've been enjoying writing it. Also, just a heads-up: I’ve taken some creative liberties with the characters. While this story is inspired by the ones in Triple Frontier, it barely follows the events of the movie, and the characters themselves aren’t portrayed exactly as they are in the film. PS: I’d love to hear your thoughts—your feedback means so much to me! Knowing what you think truly motivates me to keep going. So don't hesitate and let me know <3 Also, if you want to be on the tag list, let me know. And don't forget to follow capuccinodollupdates for notifs :)

When Santiago’s message arrived, you read it three times, as if repetition might change the words or soften their impact.

[Santi]: Hey bubs, mornin. I’m really sorry but I won’t be able to come get you. I’ll meet you at home later tho. Frankie will pick you up, same time as planned, don’t worry:)

The words seemed to pulse faintly on the screen, a quiet disruption of the neat plan you’d constructed in your head.

Frankie. He wasn’t your first choice—or your second, or third. If you were honest, he didn’t even make the list.

That morning had started with a sense of calm, a kind of orderly anticipation. The steady hum of the fan in the corner of Emma’s room, the cool sting of the shower water, the first sip of coffee, sweet and bitter all at once—it all felt like the clean slate of a well-prepared day. You’d zipped your suitcase shut, placed your carry-on by the door. Nothing left to chance.

You’d take the bus. Predictable, unremarkable. But Santiago had insisted earlier that week, his voice crackling through the phone with a kind of rare, unguarded enthusiasm.

“We can stop for lunch, you know? Like we used to do with dad. Maybe even take a detour if we find somethin' cool,” he’d said.

You’d been leaning against Emma’s kitchen counter at the time, a glass of wine in one hand, a cube of cheese in the other, and your phone between your cheek and your shoulder. Emma raised an eyebrow from across the room, silently prompting you to explain.

“Everything okay with Yovanna?” you teased, your voice carrying just enough edge to feel like a joke, even though it wasn’t entirely one. “Or is this an excuse to run away for the day?”

“Fuck you,” he laughed. “I just want to spend time with you. It’s been ages since we really caught up. I miss you like hell.”

That stopped you. He wasn’t wrong.

“Okay,” you’d said, your voice softer than before. “I miss you too. I’ll wait for you then.”

And now, this. No Santiago, no shared lunch or detours. Just... Frankie.

You sat back against the bed frame, rereading the message one last time. Frankie will pick you up. Frankie will pick you up. Frankie. Frankie. Fucking Frankie. The disappointment felt sharper than you wanted to admit.

You let the phone fall to the bed beside you, the screen dimming as it landed.

Emma lay stretched out next to you, her head tilted toward the TV, where an episode of Friends played on low volume. It was one of those episodes you both knew by heart. The one where everybody finds out.

The blue light from the screen washed over her face, softening her features, making her eyes look brighter than they really were. Without looking away, she reached out and hooked her arm around yours. She’d done the same thing when you were teenagers, sharing the lumpy couch in your parents’ living room, giggling over something trivial while your mom cooked dinner in the next room.

“What happened?” she murmured, as if she could already sense the shift in your mood. The laugh track bubbled in the background, filling the space between her words.

“Santi’s not coming. He sent Frankie.”

“That Frankie?”

“I doubt he knows any others.”

“How convenient,” she said, her voice low with mockery, though her arm squeezed yours gently. “Well, call me when you get there. And try to be nice to him, if you can manage it.”

Emma turned her head slightly, just enough to glance at you out of the corner of her eye. “And don’t take too long to come back and visit me, okay?”

“You could always visit Austin, you know."

“It’s more fun if you come here. You get to be a tourist,” she said, with that breezy logic she always used to disarm you. “I already know Austin. That’s not so exciting.”

You snorted, more out of habit than disagreement. She wasn’t wrong. Emma rarely was.

The rest of the evening passed in near silence, broken only by the low murmur of the television. Another episode of Friends, then one of The Nanny.

At some point, Emma shifted closer, resting her head on your shoulder. Her breathing slowed, deepened, a steady rise and fall that seemed to sync with your own. She didn’t say anything, didn’t need to. There was something about her presence, her weight against you, that felt like a reminder—you were understood here, even when you didn’t have the words to explain yourself. She wasn't just your best friend, she was your sister.

The sharp blare of a car horn shattered the calm. You flinched, your body instinctively tensing, the warm cocoon of the moment dissolving in an instant. Emma didn’t stir much, her eyes still closed, her arm still draped over yours. You nudged her gently, tapping her arm until she groaned softly and sat up, squinting against the glow of the TV.

“I think he’s here,” you said.

Emma stretched in one graceful motion, her arms arching overhead before she bent down to grab the bright lavender Crocs she kept by the bed.

“Come on, I’ll walk you out,” she said, her tone casual, but there was a softness to it, an unspoken understanding that made the impending goodbye feel heavier.

Outside, the heat clung to you immediately, the air thick and sticky, humming with the faint buzz of cicadas. Your gaze landed on the car parked in front of Emma’s house, and something in you tensed. It wasn’t Santi’s car, of course, and it wasn’t Santi standing there waiting.

Frankie was leaning against the hood, arms crossed, his whole posture radiating impatience. He looked as though he’d been sculpted there, his bored expression so exaggerated it almost felt theatrical. The heat shimmered in waves around him, but he didn’t seem to notice—or care. He wore a rumpled gray shirt that looked like it hadn’t been ironed in weeks and a pair of dark sunglasses, their reflective lenses hiding whatever was going on behind them. The cap was familiar, too; plain, worn, the same style you’d seen him wear before, though this time in a faded gray that matched his shirt.

For a fleeting, irrational moment, you thought maybe this was all a mistake. That Santi might suddenly appear, stepping out from behind the car or walking up the driveway with that easy laugh of his, telling you it had all been a joke. But the driveway remained empty, and Frankie, noticing you, straightened up.

He started walking toward you as if he were pacing himself for an obligation he didn’t particularly want to fulfill. His movements had the casual indifference of someone who would rather be anywhere else, but was too resigned to argue. What a dick.

“Where’s Santi?” you asked as you approached, the question coming out sharper than you’d intended.

Frankie didn’t answer immediately. He simply closed the distance between you with unhurried steps. Then, without a word, he grabbed the suitcase from your hand. The gesture caught you off guard—not because he took it, but because of how mechanical it felt. He didn’t look at you, didn’t acknowledge you in any meaningful way. It was as though you were just an extension of the bag he was moving, an obstacle to be dealt with as quickly as possible.

“He couldn’t make it,” he said at last, his voice flat, almost dismissive.

He hauled the suitcase toward the trunk and tossed it in with a thud that seemed louder than it should’ve been. The sound echoed briefly, underscoring his lack of finesse. He slammed the trunk shut with a single decisive motion and turned back toward the driver’s seat, his body language broadcasting that he considered the interaction over.

“But he didn’t tell me anything about it.”

Frankie paused, his hand on the car door.

“It was a last-minute thing.”

Before you could respond—before you could even begin to untangle your frustration into something coherent—he opened the door, slid into the driver’s seat, and pulled it shut behind him with a force that made the air shudder.

You turned back toward the house. Emma was watching from the porch, her arms crossed loosely over her chest. Her expression hovered somewhere between curiosity and bewilderment, her head tilting slightly as you approached.

She hugged you tightly, holding on a beat longer than usual. When you pulled away, her eyes searched yours.

“I’ll call you when I get there,” you said, though you weren’t sure what the call would entail—whether you’d laugh about all this, or vent.

Her lips twitched into a faint smile.

“I love you so so much,” you added. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I always do. I love you too. Take care and call me as soon as you can."

She stepped back as you turned toward the car, your feet dragging slightly with each step.

Now, an hour and a half later, the car sped steadily toward Austin, the scenery blurring into a series of indistinct shapes. Frankie hadn’t said a word since you’d left Emma’s house, and the silence had settled in the car like a heavy fog, pressing down on you with every passing mile.

You’d considered speaking—several times, in fact—but every potential conversation starter you thought of seemed pointless.

What was there to say to him? You barely knew each other, and what little you did know felt more like a series of grudges than shared history. The only things you had in common were your mutual love for Santi and, apparently, your mutual irritation with each other. Neither felt like enough to bridge the yawning gap between you.

You stared out the window, the dry, flat landscape sliding by in endless monotony, like a movie stripped of plot and color. Pale beige fields stretched into the horizon, broken only by the occasional cluster of power lines. The sameness of it all seemed to lull the world into a kind of dull, static hum.

The only relief came from the music spilling softly from the car’s speakers. The sound was tethered to Frankie’s phone, resting in the cupholder beside him, the screen glowing faintly every so often with an incoming notification he didn’t bother to check. A Fleetwood Mac song began again, its familiar opening chords filling the silence for the third time since you’d left.

You shifted in your seat, glancing at him from the corner of your eye before turning your attention back to the road ahead.

“Do you like this song?”

“I think so.”

“It’s played three times already.”

“It’s a good song,” he said softly, his voice low enough to be mistaken for an afterthought.

You turned back to the window.

He hadn’t said it to be defensive—just matter-of-fact, like the song itself was reason enough. You folded your arms across your chest, the seatbelt digging slightly into your side.

Then, your mind wandered back to Santi, to the message that had upended your day. What had he been thinking? Of all his friends, why send Frankie?

The question rolled over in your head, each repetition more insistent than the last. Was it an oversight? A logistical decision made in haste, without considering how you’d feel about it? Or was it intentional?

That idea sat uneasily with you, gnawing at the edge of your thoughts. He knew how strange things felt between you and Frankie. Hell, everyone knew. They’d all been there, witnessed it firsthand—the arguments, the uncomfortable silences, the way your personalities seemed to clash as naturally as oil and water.

The possibility that Santi might’ve chosen Frankie on purpose—maybe even as some misguided attempt to force you into tolerating each other—bothered you more than you wanted to admit.

You shifted again, suddenly restless, as the car hummed along the empty stretch of highway, the silence between you growing heavier despite the steady background of Fleetwood Mac.

Over the last few years, Frankie had been a fixture in your life, the way someone else’s shadow might be—not yours, but unavoidable. Being your brother’s best friend meant your paths crossed often enough, though you both seemed to approach these encounters with mutual disdain. You didn’t like him, and he didn’t bother pretending to like you. Disgust was the word that came to mind when you thought about how he looked at you. Not exaggerated or theatrical, just a cool, unflinching disgust, as though he found something about you fundamentally wrong.

The last time you’d spoken more than a handful of clipped, perfunctory words to each other was in Santi’s kitchen a few years ago. That was the breaking point. The fight. It wasn’t dramatic, not really—no yelling, no slammed doors—but it was the kind of exchange that changed things irreversibly. After that, you decided you didn’t want to think about him, let alone look at him, ever again.

And that was the end of it. You stopped trying to explain. You'd come to accept that to Santi, Frankie was probably nothing like how you saw him. You weren't sure what it was about him that rubbed you the wrong way, but you knew that with your brother, Frankie surely couldn't be as unpleasant as he was with you.

So, you ignored him. Every time you saw him, you made sure your gaze passed over him like he was just another fixture in the room. And he did the same. It was as though you were two people occupying the same space, but never truly sharing it.

Why on earth, then, had he agreed to come and pick you up?

Finally, he broke the silence.

“We'll stop for lunch.” His gaze flickered to you for a brief second, enough to make sure you had heard, before returning to the road. “I haven’t eaten anything all day. Do you mind?”

You were starting to feel the pangs of hunger yourself, but you didn’t let that soften your response. You couldn’t.

“No.”

Frankie nodded. He turned his attention back to the road.

His calmness was maddening.

Fifteen minutes later, the engine turned off and you looked over at the driver's side, half-expecting Frankie to say something—anything—but he was already in motion.

Before you could open your mouth, the door swung open, and he was out of the car, his body moving with an urgency that seemed to come from some invisible force, as though he were escaping the confines of the vehicle. For a moment, the empty passenger seat seemed to expand, making the car feel smaller, quieter.

You stayed there a second longer, watching as Frankie made his way across the parking lot. His steps were steady, almost too casual, as if walking away from you might somehow erase you from the moment entirely.

He didn’t look back, didn’t pause to see if you were following. And honestly, you weren’t in any rush to do so. There was no reason to catch up with him. He clearly didn’t want you there, and you didn’t want to be near him either. This trip wasn’t about you; it was about doing your brother a favor.

The parking lot was modest, just enough space for the few cars scattered about. It wasn’t anything remarkable, just a typical lot for a small, unassuming restaurant. The faded lines barely marked the spots, and you counted five cars parked across the patch of asphalt. The windows of the restaurant were perfectly clean, and you could see people inside. A couple of families were chatting animatedly at their tables, and a few solitary diners were hunched over their food, their focus far from the simple meal in front of them.

With a sigh, you walked toward the entrance. Above the door, the sign Jimmy’s buzzed softly in red neon, its glow a little too bright for the evening light. Next to it, a yellow arrow with tiny, flickering bulbs pointed inside, inviting anyone who passed by to come in. "Eat here!"

You pushed open the door, the bell chiming brightly above your head as you stepped inside. The rush of cool air from the air conditioning met you instantly, a welcome contrast to the heat that still clung to your skin from the car. The coolness was almost too sharp, sending a slight shiver down your spine as you paused just inside the doorway.

Your eyes took a moment to adjust to the softer light inside. The diner was small, but it had a cozy, familiar feel, with colorful walls and a few tables scattered around. The noise inside was a comfortable hum, punctuated by the occasional clink of silverware, low conversation and the music in the background.

It didn’t take long to spot him. Frankie was seated at the bar, absorbed in the menu in front of him. His posture was casual, but there was something about the way he held himself, his shoulders slightly hunched, that made it feel like he was a little too withdrawn.

You walked toward him slowly, the sound of your footsteps softened by the tiles beneath you. And you were just about to sit next to him when he looked up, his gaze meeting yours briefly before returning to the menu.

His voice was flat, almost bored as he spoke.

“Go find a table.”

You frowned, taking the menu from his hand without a word.

His gaze didn’t follow you as he stood up, stretching slightly as he rose from the bar stool. There was something about his movements that made you feel like you weren’t really a part of whatever was going on.

His shirt clung slightly to his back from the heat of the car, the evidence of sweat still visible on his skin, and you couldn't help but notice the fine hairs on his arms standing on end, a subtle sign of the sharp contrast between the stifling heat outside and the chill of the air-conditioned room.

“I’m goin' to the bathroom. Be back in a sec,” he added casually before disappearing down the narrow hallway to the right.

No expectation of a response. No glance to see if you were still standing there, just a simple statement. Okay. He was gone before you could offer anything in reply.

You were left standing there, the laminated menu in your hands, a slight weariness creeping in.

With a sigh, you turned on your heels and began scanning the room for a table. There was still at least an hour and a half of travel left, plus however long you'd spend eating.

Why hadn’t Santi given you a heads-up? You could’ve taken the bus or the train, something that didn’t involve sitting in a car with anyone but him. But no, that wasn’t even an option, apparently.

You spotted an empty table near the back, next to the window, and as you walked toward it, the decor around you caught your eye.

The place had a playful, nostalgic vibe. Framed posters of Grease, Fame, Footloose, and Saturday Night Fever hung on the walls. It was all very upbeat, almost theatrical, like a movie set. The tables were red and white, and a jukebox stood in the corner.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the quiet murmur of the restaurant, and your name echoed in the air.

You froze, the sound ricocheting in your chest, followed by a rush of emotions you didn’t want to acknowledge, let alone feel.

Slowly, you turned to face him, every step feeling like it took an eternity.

“Harry,” you said, the name falling from your lips like it belonged to someone else. Your lips tightened, a familiar mask of politeness slipping over your expression, one you wished you didn’t have to wear. “What... what are you doing here?”

His smile was instant and disarming, his surprise clear, and his happiness so genuine it made your chest tighten.

The last time you saw him, three months ago, it felt like a lifetime ago—a goodbye steeped in heartbreak. You’d clung to him, tears soaking his crisp white shirt as he whispered reassurances: “It’s okay. You’ll be okay. I care about you.” But the words he didn’t say cut deeper: he cared for you, but he loved her.

It had been a casual fling, no strings attached—or so you told yourself. Then came the day he confessed: he was in love with Lisa, a friend you’d never met. They were getting married. His words felt like a gut punch, but his excitement betrayed him. He was happy. You weren’t.

You tried to be strong, to tell him you were fine, even as you broke down. Because you loved him, and you couldn’t bear the thought of him with her.

And now, here he was, smiling like nothing had happened, curiosity in his eyes—oblivious to the wreckage he’d left behind.

In front of him, Lisa was sitting with a big bright smile.

You’d seen her face before, her perfectly curated Instagram photos, her flawless smile that could have been lifted straight from a movie. But in person? She was even more striking, the kind of beauty that didn’t need filters or captions. The kind of beauty that made everything around her seem insignificant, that made you feel small just standing next to her. Her presence was magnetic, the sort of thing that pulled your gaze despite every instinct telling you to look away.

Suddenly, the air conditioning hit you like a blast of cold, sharp enough to make you flinch. But then again, maybe it wasn’t the air conditioning. Maybe it was just your body freezing in place, rigid with surprise and something much harder to define.

“What are you doing around here?” he asked, pulling you back from the tangle of thoughts you were trying so hard to keep at bay.

You blinked, trying to center yourself, but it was like you had forgotten how to breathe properly.

“We’re... I’m just passing through, heading back to Austin,” you said, your voice sounding too steady, too rehearsed, even to your own ears. “I went to visit Emma.”

“Ah, Emma. How is she? Is she still in Dallas?”

“Yep.”

The silence hung between you, thick and uncomfortable. You could feel it stretching, wrapping itself around your words, making them heavier than they needed to be.

Finally, you exhaled, the air coming out in a slow, resigned sigh.

“What about you guys? What are you doing around here?”

You didn’t really want to know, not at all.

“Lisa’s grandparents live in Waco,” Harry said with that wide smile of his, the one that always made you feel like you were watching the world tilt on its axis. “We went to take the invitation to them personally and I met the rest of the family while we were at it.”

You didn’t smile. You couldn’t.

“Right, right. How cool. You must be so excited—a summer wedding, then?”

You’d known for weeks—September 13th. The invitation, with its sparkling gold lettering, had made your stomach churn. You buried it under junk mail, unable to face seeing him so happy, so certain of what he had.

But you couldn’t say that, could you? You couldn’t tell him that the mere thought of them together, of their future, felt like a knife to your chest. So you forced a smile, a tight, lifeless thing, and let the conversation carry on.

"That's right," Harry said, laughing as his gaze flickered to Lisa, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Even though we wanted to enjoy the early days of fall, Lisa wanted to get married around summer, mostly because of her parents. They got married during summer too."

Lisa laughed softly, the sound like a note held too long, then spoke:

"It's not just that," she said, her hand resting lightly on Harry's. You found yourself looking away. "Everything looks more beautiful during this season, doesn't it? Even the days last longer."

Her voice was thick with something you couldn't quite place—familiarity, maybe. Or maybe it was love.

Harry’s eyes shifted to you, seeking something. Approval, maybe. He didn’t say it, but it was clear. His look said: Don’t disagree.

"That's true. Summer is beautiful," you replied, feeling the words slip out too easily, forced through your teeth.

"We look forward to seeing you there," Harry said. "We haven't received your confirmation—you’re going, aren't you?"

How could he ask that, not see how unnatural this felt? But Harry wasn’t cruel, just unaware. You’d never told him you loved him, never made your feelings clear. To him, this was normal. He thought you’d be fine.

“I... um—”

“Don’t worry about going alone,” he said. "You always meet people at weddings."

Heat flooded your face, burning like a slap. The words stung, but his obliviousness made it worse. You wished the ground would swallow you whole, or anything to escape.

Instead, you laughed.

"Ah, no, that’s not it," you lied. "That's covered."

“Oh, is it?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow, his interest piqued. He leaned forward, a relieved smile crossing his face.

"Sure," you said, forcing a confidence into your tone that you didn’t feel. "I’ll... I’ll go with my boyfriend."

Harry's eyes widened a little, and then the smile appeared again—this one more genuine, more curious. He tapped the table, an excited gesture that made your stomach twist.

“You don’t say?” he said, his voice rising in pitch. “And who’s the lucky guy?”

You wanted to crumble. You wanted to say nothing.

As if by some celestial miracle, you saw Frankie emerge from the hallway, his attention absorbed by the screen of his phone, scrolling, unaware of anything around him. His timing was perfect, and relief washed over you, as if fate had sent him. He wasn’t supposed to be here, yet there he was—a lifeline in the chaos.

For a moment, he seemed to glow, his familiar, worn cap catching the harsh lights like a crown. You’d never been so glad to see someone. Then his eyes met yours, and his expression shifted—confusion flickering as he took in your frantic stance, the mess of emotions written on your face.

Before you could stop it, before you could make any sense of what was happening, a smile stretched across your face—too wide, too fast, like a reflex you hadn’t been prepared for. It was probably a little too sharp to be anything but forced, but you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t help anything.

"Frankie," you said, the words tumbling out with more enthusiasm than you intended. "This is Frankie... Frankie, my boyfriend.”

You weren’t sure what you were doing, but it didn’t matter—you needed to make something clear.

Frankie tensed beside you, glancing your way, trying to read the situation. His eyes met yours, and you silently begged him: Help. Please.

For a moment, he studied you, his gaze flicking between you and the couple. Then, as if something clicked, his expression shifted to understanding. He realized what he had to do and adjusted instantly.

"Right," he finally said. "I’m Frankie."

Harry extended his hand with a practiced smile, warm but a touch too bright. Frankie hesitated, his gaze shifting from Harry’s hand to your face, brow slightly furrowed as he tried to assess the situation—or his role in it.

You stepped closer, tapping his waist lightly, a subtle signal to act. He blinked, refocusing, and finally took Harry’s hand. But in his eyes, there was a flicker of discomfort, one only you noticed.

“Frankie,” Harry said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I'm Harry.” Then, he nodded enthusiastically, dropping his hand back to the table. “And this is Lisa."

Lisa smiled, her gaze bright and almost blinding.

“Nice to meet ya, Frankie,” she said, her voice the epitome of warmth, her charm effortless, her presence just... perfect. Oh my God, just stop it!

Frankie finally turned his attention back to you, though it wasn’t immediately clear if he was still processing the social niceties or deciding how best to carry this conversation forward.

His voice shifted slightly as he spoke again.

“Same here,” he said, his tone unfamiliar to you.

He moved closer, just a bit too close, slipping his arm around your waist with ease, sending a flutter through your stomach. His hand rested lightly against your side, his palm warm at your back. You froze, unable to focus on anything but the pulse of his touch, the way he effortlessly played the boyfriend role.

It felt wrong, uncomfortable.

Confusion and relief mixed inside you, unsure if the relief came from the act itself or the distraction it provided from the situation.

"Well," Frankie broke the silence. "Sorry to interrupt, but we need to leave soon. I want to make sure this beautiful woman gets some food before we go—otherwise, she goes bad."

You blinked, momentarily taken aback.

Harry chuckled. “Yeah, I believe you. That’s the main reason we stopped. Though I’ll admit,” he added, glancing down at the table with a mock grimace, “I was the one really starving.”

The awkwardness of the moment barely registered for Harry. He seemed to think everything was going smoothly, unaware of the small cracks in the facade that were threatening to show. Frankie, however, was more aware than anyone, and you could see it in his eyes.

Frankie gave a short, almost amused laugh, pulling his arm back from your waist with a light tap.

“Yeah, I’m sure you can relate,” he said. “Keeping your lady happy, that's what it's all about, isn't it?”

You tried to smile, but it came out thin, tight. Your legs became weak.

Harry’s laugh was light. He buyed it.

Frankie straightened up slightly, offering his hand to Harry in that careful way that now seemed practiced, even though it hadn’t been moments ago. The way he was acting felt like an entirely unfamiliar version of him. Thank God.

“Okay, thanks for the chat, but we bett—”

"Yeah, of course," Harry interrupted, still upbeat and completely oblivious to the tension. "It was nice meeting you, Frankie. Take care of her, alright? She's... well, you know. A special one."

Frankie’s smile stiffened, the edges barely moving as he gave a short nod. His eyes flicked to you for a fleeting second.

"I will," he replied. "I’ve got her covered. Don’t worry. She’s in good hands."

“Bye, Harry,” you said, turning to him with a friendly but somewhat distant smile, your hand lifting in a wave. “And you too, Lisa. Good luck with the wedding!”

Lisa smiled warmly. “Thank you,” she replied, her voice smooth. “Let us know if you're coming."

“Yeah. Hope to see you at the wedding. You too, Frankie,” Harry said, just before you thought about starting to walk to the table at the back of the place.

Frankie looked confused, and looked at you for an answer, or for you to say something.

"Sure," you said, taking him by the arm, ready to leave. "We'll definitely be there!"

You moved in silence toward the booth, Frankie's hand resting at the small of your back, guiding you like an automatic reflex.

The low hum of conversation in the restaurant seemed to fade as you both reached the table, and you were strangely relieved that the high backs of the seats shielded you from Harry’s view.

He dropped into the seat across from you, his presence as loud and brash as ever.

When you looked at him, it struck you how quickly he'd reverted to the expression he always wore around you: furrowed brows, lips pressed into a thin, almost unnatural line. It wasn’t clear if it was annoyance, confusion, or just him being him.

“I’m so hungry,” you said, flipping through the laminated menu. “I really want a burger, and some fries.”

He didn’t reply immediately, his stare heavy on you. Then:

“What the fuck was that?”

You sighed, closing the menu and flattening your hands on the table as if bracing yourself. His face was a familiar mix of wide eyes, creased forehead, and that particular grimace that always made you feel like you’d said something wrong.

You shrugged. “My ex.”

“Okay? And?”

“And that’s it. Nothing else.”

Frankie leaned back with a dramatic exhale, the leather of the booth creaking under him. He shook his head in disbelief, his jaw tightening.

“Since when am I your boyfriend? Last time I checked, I was doing your brother a favor.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you said quickly, cheeks warming. You picked up the menu again, trying to will your face back to neutrality. “Thanks for playing along, anyway.”

He sighed. You glanced up, and sure enough, he was staring at you, his fingers drumming a steady rhythm on the table. Not impatient, exactly. Calculated.

“You’re not going to tell me what the fuck that was?”

You ignored him, letting the embarrassment swirl hot in your stomach as you fixed your eyes on the menu. Burgers. Burgers. Burgers. Burgers. Fries. Onion rings, maybe.

“Hey,” he said sharply, snapping his fingers in front of your face.

You blinked, snapping your head up to look at him.

“Oh, are you talking to me?”

Frankie gave you a look so exaggerated you almost laughed, except you knew he wasn’t joking.

“Who else would I be talking to? You think I’m out here monologuing? Who are you, fucking De Niro?”

“Hey!” you snapped, slamming the menu down on the table. The sound echoed between you, a sharp punctuation that sent a ripple of air across his forehead, lifting the dark strands just slightly. “Don’t talk to me like that, Francisco. Who do you think you’re talking to? We’re not friends.”

He snorted, the sound sharp but oddly soft at the same time, pulling off his cap and placing it on the seat beside him.

With a low groan, he ran a hand through his hair, fingers catching briefly in the strands. His gaze found yours again, his posture seemingly relaxed but betraying a subtle tension. You could see it in the way his shoulders didn’t quite settle, in the way his eyes didn’t blink as he studied you.

“I know, we’re not friends. But I just lied for you. Why? Who was that? And why are you acting so weird?”

Before you could answer, he straightened in his seat, leaning forward slightly. “No, wait. The real question is: why are you acting weirder than usual?”

You folded your arms, leaning back until you felt the booth press into your shoulders. Your gaze flicked to the front door, the thought of walking out taking root in your mind. Leaving felt easier—safer. Honestly, you’d rather trudge all the way back to Austin on foot, the heat and endless asphalt blistering your skin, than sit here and explain yourself to Frankie. He wouldn’t care. Worse, he might care just enough to make you regret opening your mouth.

When your eyes returned to him, though, his expression surprised you. Serious, yes. But not angry.

You sighed, the sound shaky as it escaped your chest.

“It’s my ex.”

“Yes. Your ex. I got that part. And?”

“And his fiancée.”

“Aha,” he nodded slowly. “Why did you lie to them?”

You swallowed hard, the pulse in your neck thudding too loudly in your ears.

“Because...” Your voice wavered, and you hated it. “Because... Um, he told me I might meet someone at the wedding.”

Frankie blinked, his confusion shifting into something closer to disbelief.

“What?”

“God,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as heat crept up your neck. Your hands dropped to your thighs, fingers curling into the fabric of your jeans. “We dated for four months, and he broke up with me to get engaged to her. Then he invited me to their wedding. When I said I’d go, he told me not to worry about showing up alone, because I’d probably meet someone there.”

Frankie’s mouth opened slightly, but no words came out, so you pressed on, a flush of anger sparking under your skin.

“So, I panicked,” you admitted, your voice sharpening. “I told him not to worry, that I’d bring my boyfriend. And then you showed up, and it just—it made sense in the moment, okay? That’s it.”

“It made sense to you to say I was your boyfriend?” he asked, his tone incredulous. “You couldn’t have said I was someone else? Made up something better?”

“No, it didn’t occur to me! I panicked, okay? I’m sorry! What was I supposed to do?”

He stared at you for a moment, his face a mix of annoyance and bafflement, before leaning back again. You could see the wheels turning in his head, though whatever he was thinking, he wasn’t about to share it with you.

You sank deeper into your seat, glaring at the table like it might offer some kind of solace. But all you could feel was the mortifying heat of his gaze, still fixed firmly on you.

Frankie scratched his forehead, his fingers dragging slowly down to his chin, where they rested briefly before falling to the table.

“Okay,” he started. “So, you dated this guy for three months—”

“Four months.”

“Right. Four months. And then he left you to get engaged?”

“Yeah.”

Frankie leaned back, his posture deceptively relaxed.

“You’re telling me he cheated on you, and you’re still planning to go to his fucking wedding? Are you out of your mind?”

He propped his chin on his left hand, elbow planted firmly on the table, and his gaze locked onto you. There was something in his expression that made your stomach twist—a combination of pity and incredulity that made you feel stupid.

“No, he didn’t cheat on me,” you replied, lowering your voice as you leaned forward slightly, not wanting anyone else to overhear. “We weren’t in a serious relationship. We were just... casually dating. He was always in love with her, but they couldn’t figure things out. I knew that. He told me.”

Frankie’s eyebrows lifted, his disbelief evident.

“He told you he was in love with another woman, and you still kept dating him?”

“No,” you shot back, frowning. “He told me after a while, around the time we broke up. I would never date someone who was in love with someone else.”

“But you were in love with him, weren’t you?”

There it was. That tone. The one that suggested Frankie thought he had you all figured out, as if your life and feelings were nothing more than a series of obvious moves on a chessboard he could read from across the room. He was so infuriatingly arrogant, so sure of himself.

You narrowed your eyes, but the involuntary twitch of your eyebrows betrayed you.

“I had feelings for him,” you admitted.

Frankie tilted his head slightly, his lips quirking into a half-smile that made you want to smack him.

“Okay, let me make sure I’ve got this straight: this guy you casually dated for four months left you for another woman, got engaged, invited you to the wedding, and you, still hung up on him, agreed to go but invented an imaginary boyfriend so you wouldn’t have to show up alone. That about right?”

“I’m not in love with him,” you snapped, crossing your arms defensively and shaking your head.

“I don’t believe you."

“I don’t care what you believe."

“You want to know what I think?”

“Are you deaf? I just told you I don’t care.”

“I think you’re crazy for going to that wedding. Do you want to torture yourself or something? Are you a masochist?”

The word slipped out like a dagger, his eyes narrowing as he studied your reaction, his face drawing closer, his voice almost a whisper.

You exhaled sharply, a mix of frustration and disbelief, biting your lower lip as you turned to look out the window. The distant hum of cars on the road outside felt like the only thing grounding you in the moment.

When you looked back at him, your voice was steadier, quieter.

“We’re friends. Things between us ended well. Why wouldn’t I go to his wedding?”

“So he broke your heart, and you’re still going to his wedding. Got it.” Frankie leaned back slightly as he said it.

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, anger mixing with a deep, familiar embarrassment.

“Why the fuck do you care anyway? I already told you everything. Make fun of me all you want, but stop interrogating me and leave me alone.”

Frankie’s eyebrows lifted and a slow, sarcastic smile spread across his face.

“You got me involved in this, remember?”

“It was just a little lie, that’s all.”

He let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head.

“Well, you didn’t think it through,” he said flatly, reaching across the table to grab the menu you’d abandoned. He straightened it out in front of him, his fingers smoothing the creases, and his eyes scanned the options with an air of exaggerated focus.

For a moment, you thought he might actually drop it. But of course, he didn’t.

“I wonder what he’ll think,” Frankie said suddenly, “when he sees you show up to the wedding alone.” His eyes stayed on the menu. “You should’ve come up with something else. Be more witty next time. Or, I don’t know, just don’t go to the wedding. That works too.”

Oh.

Your stomach churned at the thought, the weight of it pressing down on you as your mind raced through the possibilities.

He was right, of course. What were you going to do? There was no way you could actually show up to the wedding now. You’d have to turn down the invitation at the last minute, make up some absurd excuse about why you couldn’t make it. Or maybe you wouldn’t say anything at all. Harry didn’t deserve an explanation. He wasn’t entitled to one.

The silence stretched between you. You didn’t answer him. What could you say? You felt silly, even ridiculous, sitting there, replaying the moment over and over in your mind.

Of all the places in the world, did you really have to run into Harry here, in the middle of the road, with Frankie of all people?

None of this would’ve happened if Santiago had come to pick you up like he was supposed to. If he’d warned you he couldn’t make it, you would’ve saved yourself the humiliation. You wouldn’t have had to deal with Frankie’s smirking face or his infuriating commentary.

You stared at the table, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of it. God, why did everything have to turn into a mess? Why couldn’t things just go smoothly for once?

Frankie didn’t seem to notice—or care—that you hadn’t responded. He flipped a page of the menu, his expression unreadable now, as if he’d already moved on.

With your appetite nearly nonexistent, you ordered a burger. It sat heavy in front of you, unappealing and far too big. You nibbled at it slowly, methodically, as if chewing it down might somehow help you swallow the rest of your humiliation.

Across the table, Frankie made quick work of his own meal. He ate like someone who hadn’t seen food in days, the kind of eating that could make anyone watching feel small.

When he finished—barely ten minutes in—he leaned back in his chair and fixed you with a look. Not an outright stare, but enough of one that you could feel the weight of his impatience.

You didn’t care.

Instead, you turned your attention to the fries on your plate. Picking up each one with deliberate slowness, you savored them, your gaze drifting toward the window.

Outside, the road stretched on endlessly, shimmering in the summer heat. Frankie sighed, low and exasperated, every few minutes, but to your surprise, he didn’t rush you.

When you finally stood to leave, Harry and Lisa were nowhere to be seen. Relief swept over you like cool water. If you’d had to exchange goodbyes with them, you were sure you’d lose every bite of food you’d managed to stomach.

You followed Frankie out to the car. And once inside, the tight, enclosed space of the vehicle made your skin crawl.

You clicked your seatbelt into place, but the snugness of the strap across your chest only added to your discomfort.

For a fleeting moment, you considered bolting. What if you just opened the door and threw yourself onto the hot, sticky asphalt? You’d roll a little, maybe scrape a knee, but at least you wouldn’t be here.

The car started with a low rumble, and Frankie turned up the music without a word. The sound wasn’t loud enough to drown out your thoughts, but it added a layer of noise.

Your gaze shifted to the scenery blurring past the window. You rested your forehead against the cool glass, welcoming the breeze coming in through the lowered window. The air smelled faintly of gasoline and sun-warmed earth.

Frankie drove in silence, his hands steady on the wheel. His thumbs tapped along to the rhythm of the song playing faintly in the background—Rebel Yell by Billy Idol.

You stared at the horizon, but your mind kept circling back to him.

He probably thought this whole situation was hilarious. You could see it in the way his eyebrows had lifted earlier, the way his lips twitched with incredulity every time he asked about Harry. He didn’t need to say it—he thought you were foolish, and maybe you were. You felt it, deep in your chest, that heavy, sinking shame that told you he was right to think so.

What the hell were you going to do?

Not going to the wedding wasn’t an option, not unless you wanted Harry to think you were still upset—or worse, that you still cared. But going? Going alone? That wasn’t an option either. You could bring someone else, maybe. But who?

Harry knew all your friends, and you didn’t have many male ones left who weren’t married, taken, or entirely inappropriate. Your brother’s friends? Sure, because that would work out great. Another one of Santiago’s buddies, strolling in on your arm. You ran through the list in your head. Will? No. Ben? No.

It was hopeless. Every scenario felt more humiliating than the last.

God, you wished you could disappear. Or better yet, transform into something simple and unbothered. A worm, maybe. Worms didn’t have exes. They didn’t have weddings to dread.

You were spiraling, and it must have shown on your face because Frankie spoke up, his voice breaking through your chaotic thoughts.

“We’ll make a stop to fill up the tank, okay?” His tone was casual, distracted, as he turned left into the gas station lot.

“Sure,” you mumbled, barely lifting your head.

The car slowed to a stop, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. For a moment, the world outside felt steadier than the one inside your head.

You followed Frankie out of the car, your steps slower and more hesitant than his easy stride. The heat pressed down on you, thick and relentless, but he didn’t seem to notice.

You lingered by the passenger side, arms folded across your chest. Your gaze flitted to the gas station shop, where shelves of snacks and cold drinks promised brief relief from the sweltering air. For a fleeting moment, you considered going inside, maybe grabbing a soda, or even just standing under the blast of an air conditioner. But then you thought about how much longer that would draw out this journey. The idea of extending your time in Frankie’s company, even by a minute, was enough to keep you rooted in place.

So you waited, watching him in silence. He moved with the kind of efficiency you’d expect from someone used to things like this—mundane tasks, long drives, solitude. He didn’t rush, but he didn’t dawdle either. He glanced at you once as he replaced the nozzle, his expression unreadable, and then he climbed back into the car without a word.

You followed suit, settling into your seat and pulling the door shut with a soft click.

The miles ahead stretched out endlessly, yet the closer you got to Austin, the more your thoughts swirled. You cycled through possibilities, none of them good. Each option felt like another layer of embarrassment, a new way to showcase just how deeply you’d tangled yourself in this ridiculous situation.

Eventually, your mind settled on one solution—a compromise of sorts, though it was far from ideal. You turned it over and over, weighing the risk against your pride. It felt heavy in your chest, but the closer you got to the city, the harder it became to ignore.

Finally, as the familiar outline of Austin came into view, you forced yourself to speak.

“Frankie.” You turned to look at him, your hands fidgeting nervously in your lap.

He didn’t take his eyes off the road. “What?”

“You know,” you began, cautiously, “Santi loves you a lot. You’re one of his best friends.”

“I know.”

“And you must love Santi too, right? I mean, you’d do anything for him.”

At that, he glanced at you, his brows knitting together in confusion. The kindness in your voice must have thrown him off.

“Of course I love him,” he said slowly. “What do you want?”

You smiledr, tilting your head. “Why do you think I want something?”

“Because you’re smiling at me like that,” he shot back, returning his focus to the road. “And it’s creepy. Stop it. You’re scaring me.”

“I just think that it was really nice of you to go all the way to Dallas to pick me up. You didn’t have to, you know. I could’ve taken a bus or figured something out. But you did it anyway. You did me a favor today, and I just—”

He cut you off with a dry laugh, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. A bead of sweat had formed there, glistening in the harsh afternoon light.

“If you want to call it that.”

“I mean it,” you insisted, leaning slightly toward him. “You didn’t have to do this. You could’ve said no, and I wouldn’t have blamed you. But you didn’t. Why?”

His grip tightened on the wheel, and he shot you another quick, sidelong glance. His expression was guarded.

“I dunno. Because Santi asked me to. Because I had nothing else to do. Does it matter?”

You pursed your lips, staring straight ahead as your thoughts spiraled. Why were you nervous? It wasn’t fear—definitely not fear of him. But still, there was something about Frankie that unsettled you, something sharp-edged and unyielding in the way he looked at you, like he could see more than you intended to show.

“I think you should come to the wedding with me,” you blurted, the words tumbling out before you had the chance to second-guess them. As soon as they were out, you snapped your gaze away, focusing intently on a crack in the dashboard as though it held the secrets of the universe.

“What?”

Frankie’s tone wasn’t as surprised as you’d expected—it was more amused, like he thought you’d just said something profoundly ridiculous.

“You should come to the wedding with me,” you repeated, forcing yourself to look at him this time.

He turned his head briefly, his eyes scanning your face, trying to decide whether you were joking or if you’d completely lost your mind. Finally, he clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“No,” he said flatly.

“Frankie.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“What’s the matter with you? Did you hit your head or something? Have you completely lost it?”

“No, just hear me out,” you said, raising a hand in what you hoped was a calming gesture. He shot you a wary glance but didn’t interrupt. “It’ll just be a favor—a small favor. I swear, if you do this for me, I’ll give you whatever you want. Wathever. Um, well—not whatever you want,” you corrected quickly. “Something reasonable. Something human. Please.”

Frankie snorted, a small, incredulous smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re asking me to pretend to be your boyfriend at the wedding of a guy who dumped you? And you’re the sister of one of my best friends?” He shook his head, laughing quietly.

You sighed, the weight of your desperation pressing down on you.

“Santi will understand. He will. And it’s not like I’m asking for much—just come with me for a little while. We don’t even have to stay all night. Just long enough to…” You trailed off, realizing how pathetic you sounded. “Just long enough to make it believable.”

“Sorry, no,” Frankie said firmly, cutting you off. “I’m not getting dragged into your drama. And honestly? I think it’s stupid for you to go to that wedding in the first place. What are you trying to prove? My answer is no. Invite someone else.”

Frustration burned in your chest, rising up to your cheeks as his words landed. You could feel your face heating, both from embarrassment and anger.

“I can’t invite someone else. You’re my boyfriend, remember? That’s what Harry thinks. He saw you. They saw you. And you did a pretty good job pretending to be nice to me today—can’t you do it one more time? Just this once?”

“No—”

“I’ll do anything you want. I mean it. Any favor you can think of. Just name it.”

Frankie tilted his head, giving you a skeptical look.

“I’m not interested in any favors from you,” he said bluntly. “I don’t need anything.”

“Then do it for Santi,” you said, desperate now.

Frankie laughed at that, a low, disbelieving sound that only irritated you further.

“What does your brother have to do with any of this?”

“He’s your best friend,” you said, leaning toward him slightly, like you could will him to understand. “And you love him. And I’m his sister.”

“Uh-huh,” Frankie said, still smirking. “So?”

“So, doesn’t that mean you should help me?”

Frankie’s laugh grew louder, his shoulders shaking slightly as he glanced at you.

“You’re really reaching now, aren’t you?”

He turned to look at you then, his eyes narrowing slightly as they met yours. There was no malice there, but the firm set of his jaw told you all you needed to know—there was no convincing him. He understood the weight of your request, the quiet urgency stitched into each word, but it didn’t sway him.

“I’ve never asked you for help before,” you said, your voice softer now, almost brittle. “In fact, I’ve refused your help plenty of times. You said I was childish, remember? Well, fine. Maybe I’m being childish. But now I’m asking. Just this once.”

He shook his head slowly.

“It’s not the same thing. And you are being childish. Like I told you—no. The answer’s fucking no.”

You blinked hard, swallowing against the sting of rejection that settled heavy in your throat.

“Okay, fine,” you replied, the word clipped, your voice devoid of emotion. You turned your face away from him, angling it toward the window, not wanting him to see the look on your face—humiliation, maybe, or something closer to defeat. “Thank you.”

Frankie sighed, long and low, his hands flexing around the steering wheel as though he were squeezing the last ounce of patience from himself.

The silence that followed was thick, broken only by the low hum of the car and the faint thrum of your pulse in your ears.

The rest of the drive passed without a single word exchanged. You stared out the window while Frankie focused intently on the road, his grip on the wheel tight and unyielding.

When the car finally pulled up in front of your house, the relief that washed over you was immediate and overwhelming.

You reached for the door handle, your fingers trembling slightly, and stepped out into the humid air.

Frankie followed, moving around to the back of the car with the same mechanical precision he’d had all day. He popped the trunk and pulled out your suitcase, the effort seemingly as uninspired as when he’d loaded it hours ago.

He carried it to the door and set it down, his movements brisk, almost dismissive. You stood there, arms crossed, your body angled away from him, unwilling to meet his gaze.

“That’ll be all,” he said finally, his tone flat, his sunglasses obscuring his eyes on your face.

“Thank you,” you murmured, barely audible. “I’ll let Santi know I’m home.”

“Good.”

You didn’t look up as he turned back toward the car. You didn’t watch him leave, but you heard the sound of his door slamming shut, the low rumble of the engine as he drove off.

As the noise of his departure faded into the distance, you stayed rooted to the spot for a moment longer, the weight of the day pressing heavy on your shoulders. The heat prickled against your skin, and your head ached faintly, a dull reminder of how much you wanted this day to end.

You grabbed the handle of your suitcase, pulling it inside as the silence of the house enveloped you. You needed a shower—cold water to wash away the heat, the frustration, the embarrassment of it all. You needed to be alone, to let the day dissolve into nothingness behind a locked door.

Nearly two weeks slipped by, lost in the haze of your routines and the background hum of self-destructive thoughts.

What were you going to do? Probably nothing.

You wouldn’t go. That was the easiest answer, and maybe the only one that made sense. What choice did you really have?

Still, Frankie’s words stuck in your head, gnawing at the edges of your resolve. What are you trying to prove? he’d asked. And after a few restless nights, staring at the ceiling and replaying the conversation, you realized he was right. You did want to prove something—to Harry, to yourself. You wanted him to see you happy, radiantly happy, at his wedding, as though it didn’t touch you at all. You wanted to seem light and unbothered, the kind of woman who could be at her ex’s wedding without flinching.

Except you did care. Of course, you cared. You hated that you cared. And you hated Harry for putting you in this position.

How could you not be upset? The man had left you only a few months ago, and now he was marrying someone else. It wasn’t normal—none of it was. But you couldn’t shake the question gnawing at the back of your mind: why did you have to be the one left hurt?

And Frankie. You’d hated the way he’d looked at you when he said it; What are you trying to prove? What the hell were you trying to prove? like he couldn’t believe how foolish you were. If you hadn’t wanted to see him before, you definitely didn’t want to now. You resolved to talk to Santi, to tell him how uncomfortable the trip had been—without blaming Frankie, exactly—and to ask, kindly but firmly, that he warn you if Frankie would be around in the future.

It was humiliating, this whole situation. But you were sure about one thing: you never wanted to see Francisco Morales again.

The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving your kitchen in soft shadows as you stirred sugar into your coffee. Your gaze stayed fixed on your laptop, on Harry’s wedding invitation glowing on the screen. You’d read it so many times it felt permanently etched into your mind. But now, you’d decided. You weren’t going.

Your finger hovered over the trackpad, guiding the cursor to the “RSVP not attending” option. You paused, just for a second, your chest tightening. Then, before you could click, the doorbell rang, sharp and sudden, making you flinch.

Setting the mug down, you crossed to the window, peering out at the sidewalk. The sight below made your brows knit together.

That couldn’t be right. Surely, you were imagining things.

You slipped on a pair of shoes and headed downstairs, opening the door without much thought.

“Francisco,” you said flatly, his name sitting awkwardly on your tongue. “What are you doing here? Did something happen with Santi?”

He dragged a hand over his mouth and shook his head.

“Can we talk?”

“About what?”

He looked different somehow. Neater, you thought, though you hated yourself for noticing. His hair was slightly shorter, his beard more trimmed than usual.

He sighed, long and heavy, like he’d been forced into something he didn’t want to do. The sound made you laugh, a sharp, derisive snort. As if he had the right to be irritated. He’d shown up unannounced, at night, on your doorstep. If anyone should feel fed up, it was you.

“I’m going to help you,” he said finally.

“With what?”

“With your ex.”

“What?” The confusion on your face deepened. “Harry?”

Frankie glanced to the side, as if checking for onlookers, before returning his gaze to you and nodding.

“Are there other exes you need help with?”

His question was thick with sarcasm, and you rolled your eyes in response.

“Well, I don’t need your help anymore. But thanks,” you said quickly, your voice tight, as you began to push the door shut, inch by inch.

Then his hand was on it, stopping you.

“Wait,” he said, and this time his voice was different—tinged with something almost like desperation. “I’m serious.”

You paused, narrowing your eyes at him through the gap.

“Why would you help me? You were very clear the other day. There’s no point in me going to the wedding.”

“True, there’s no point,” he said, his gaze steady on yours. “But I know you well enough to know you’d love to go anyway. To show Harry how great you’re doing. Am I wrong?”

“You’re wrong,” you shot back instantly, too quickly.

Frankie sighed, the sound dragging out like he was trying to buy himself time. He glanced away for a second, then back at you, his expression suddenly resolute.

“I’ll do whatever you want,” he said.

You blinked at him, stunned into silence for a moment.

Then, with a raised brow, you asked, “Are you sick? Do you have a fever, Francisco?”

You brought your hand up toward his forehead, but he flinched back dramatically before you could touch him.

“What are you up to?” you asked, pulling the door open wider, suspicion laced in your tone.

“May I come in?” he asked finally, his brown eyes soft and glinting, almost boyish.

You hesitated, studying him for a few beats, letting the curiosity outweigh your disdain. Then you stepped back and opened the door fully, sealing the moment with the soft click of the latch behind him.

Frankie climbed the stairs ahead of you, pausing at the top to wait as you opened the door to your apartment. He stepped inside, scanning the space.

Your living room was warm, cozy but cluttered—books and mugs scattered across the coffee table and nearly every other available surface, interspersed with pens, pencils, and random odds and ends. Behind the sofa, the kitchen was visible, small but functional.

You stood back, watching him take it all in. His expression was unreadable, but you imagined him silently judging the chaos. You almost wanted him to—let him think it was messy, or that your style was lacking. You didn’t care.

He didn’t belong there, in your space. Everything about him seemed incongruous with the world you’d built for yourself—his presence like a mismatched puzzle piece, forcibly shoved into place where it clearly didn’t fit. He was out of tune with your reality, standing in the warmth of your living room like he’d wandered in from an entirely different life.

You crossed to the kitchen island, where your half-drunk coffee sat waiting. Sliding onto the stool, you gestured at the one across from you.

“Have a seat.”

Frankie hesitated but eventually sat down, his movements stiff and reluctant, like he’d rather be anywhere else. His expression was tight, uncomfortable, like a vampire catching the faintest whiff of garlic in the air. His eyes landed immediately on your laptop, still glowing with Harry’s wedding invitation.

“I see you’re taking the wedding well,” he said.

You sighed audibly, refusing to take the bait.

“What do you want?”

As you waited for him to answer, you lifted your coffee to your lips. It had already cooled, the bitterness more pronounced now that it was lukewarm.

Another thing he ruined for you, you thought bitterly. Your fucking coffee.

“I’ve been thinking—”

“Congratulations,” you cut in, deadpan.

Frankie’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, dark and unamused. He didn’t even blink, just stared at you like he was waiting for you to get it out of your system.

You shrugged, feigning indifference, though the weight of his gaze made your skin prickle.

“I’ve decided I’m going to the wedding with you,” he said finally.

You raised an eyebrow, lowering your mug to the counter.

“You decided? I thought you didn’t want to go with me.”

“I don’t,” he said. His fingers brushed the edge of your laptop, tracing a line along it.

“But you’re still here.”

Frankie exhaled slowly, leaning back slightly.

“I’ll help you… if you help me.”

“If I help you? With what? Don’t tell me you’re finally going to therapy,” you blurted out, a half-smile tugging at your lips.

Frankie straightened in his seat, his back stiffening like you’d just landed a verbal jab. For a moment, it looked like he might get up and leave—walk out and never look back. But instead, he stayed. He clenched his jaw, his eyes locking on yours with a determined, almost defiant look.

“I had dinner with my family tonight,” he began, his voice measured but tense. “With my mom and two of my sisters—”

“Is that why you look like that?” you interrupted, tilting your head.

“What?”

“Like you finally took a bath,” you said, your smirk widening.

Frankie exhaled sharply. “Can you shut up and listen to me for a second? I’ll be brief.”

You held up a hand as if to say, Fine, go on.

“They’re nice, my family, but they won’t leave me alone,” he said, his tone growing more frustrated. “All through dinner, they kept asking me these awkward questions, trying to convince me to go on these dates they’ve been setting up with their friends’ daughters or coworkers or whoever.”

Your smile widened, thoroughly amused. “Why? Why don’t you just go? Come to think of it—”

“No,” he cut you off, his voice sharp. “I already agreed once, and it was a disaster. I’m not doing it again. And I’m not about to get into that with you.”

“Good,” you said, leaning back slightly. “Because I’m not interested.”

Frankie sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair.

“Every time I see them, for over a year now, it’s the same thing. They won’t leave me alone. And look, I get it. They’re trying to be helpful. But I’ve had enough.”

Your curiosity piqued at that. “What happened a year ago? Why?”

Frankie’s face tightened. “That doesn’t matter.”

The dodge only made you more curious, but you let it go, watching as he leaned forward slightly, his hands gripping the edge of the counter.

“The point is,” he continued, “I got fed up. So tonight, when they started in on me again, I told them to back off. That I didn’t need them setting me up on dates because… because I already have a girlfriend.”

His words hung in the air for a moment, their weight sinking in.

Oh.

“Oh,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your eyebrows lifted just enough to show your surprise, though you tried to mask it.

Frankie shifted in his seat, his gaze falling to his hand resting on his knee. He shook his head slightly, a faint, almost imperceptible motion, as though he was trying to block out whatever he feared you might say next.

“Funny,” you said, your voice light with mockery. “And your mom believed you?”

When he looked up at you, his expression darkened.

“Hardly,” he admitted, his tone sharp. “I don’t even think I convinced her. That’s why I need your help.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly, as though creating space from whatever absurdity was about to come out of his mouth.

“You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?”

Frankie nodded once, curtly. “My mom’s birthday is in a few days. She’s turning sixty. She’s having this big nice party, and she told me she wants to meet my girlfriend then.”

You crossed your arms, still trying to gauge whether or not this was some elaborate joke.

“When’s the party?”

“Next Saturday.”

Your eyebrows shot up, and your lips parted in disbelief.

“Francisco,” you grumbled, the word low and heavy. “That’s in three days.”

“I know,” he muttered, matching your tone. His jaw tightened like he was already regretting the entire conversation.

“And what did you tell her?” you demanded. “What did you say when she asked?”

Frankie’s hand moved to the counter, his fingers drumming once before he let them still.

He hesitated, and then, in a resigned voice, said, “I told her yes. That I’d bring my girlfriend to her birthday.” He paused, meeting your gaze. “So she’d finally leave me alone.”

You pushed back from the stool, standing in one swift, exasperated motion. Your hands flew to your hips, your whole body radiating irritation as you glared at him.

“Oh, so you just assumed I’d help you, didn’t you?” you snapped, your voice loud in the otherwise quiet apartment. “What if I said no?”

“I knew you wouldn’t say no.”

You let out an incredulous laugh.

“My God, what’s wrong with you? You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

He didn’t flinch, though you could see his patience thinning in the slight twitch of his brow.

“I know you well enough to know you’ll say yes.”

The sheer audacity of it made you want to scream.

Frankie rose from his spot, his movements deliberate and quick. His footsteps echoed as he crossed the room, closing the space between you with purposeful strides.

He stopped in front of you, standing taller, looking down at you with an intensity that was hard to ignore.

“I know you want to go to the wedding,” he said, his voice firm. “I know you asked me to go with you, and you were persistent. And anyway, I think you owe me.”

You blinked, incredulous, a small laugh escaping your lips despite yourself.

“I owe you?”

Frankie’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he took a small step closer.

“Don’t forget that the only reason you didn’t make a complete fool of yourself in front of Harry was because I decided to help you. I played along. If I’d wanted to, I could’ve exposed you in front of him and his fiancée. I could’ve made it worse.”

“Thank you so much, Francisco, you're a fucking angel,” you spat, your tone thick with sarcasm, though the incredulous smile on your face betrayed how absurd it all felt. “What do you want me to do? Give you a hero of the century award?”

Frankie’s expression didn’t waver; he was dead serious. “No. Come with me to my mom’s birthday and we’re even.”

You froze for a moment, processing his words, the sheer audacity of them making your heart skip a beat. This was beyond ridiculous.

"You're fucking crazy! Are you serious?" you demanded, unable to hide the disbelief in your voice. "It’s not even close. Harry’s my ex something, nothing more. And you’re asking me to go with you to a family event, full of your relatives, and you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend in front of all of them?”

Frankie’s eyes flicked upwards, his impatience seeping into his expression. He rolled his eyes.

“It’s not like we’re getting married,” he said, dismissive, his voice tinged with frustration. “You’re exaggerating. It’s not the first time I’ve taken a girlfriend to a family thing. What are you, fifteen?”

You crossed your arms, giving him a skeptical look. “I don’t know, by my standards, introducing a girlfriend to your family seems like a pretty serious thing.”

Frankie exhaled through his nose, clearly growing more insistent. He looked at you with unwavering intensity, his gaze now pointed, as if trying to break through the walls you were building between you and this ridiculous proposition.

“I’ll take care of that,” he said.

You weighed his words in your mind, the absurdity of the situation tangled with a strange sense of reluctant curiosity.

“Are you really going to accompany me to the wedding?” you asked, your voice quieter than you’d intended.

Frankie nodded, a reassuring, almost teasing gesture, as though he was certain he had already won.

“I’ll help you catch the bouquet and everything.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, here you are, still going with me to that wedding.”

Frustration rose in your chest, pooling in your throat like heat. You bit down hard on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress the rush of emotion that threatened to spill over. How utterly insolent. How impossible.

“Fine,” you finally spat out, barely containing the anger simmering beneath your words. “I’ll help you. But you’d better make my time count, Francisco.”

He flashed a half-smile, the kind of smug, self-satisfied smirk that made your fingers itch to slap him. You wanted to say something else—something cutting, something that would make him regret this entire conversation. But you couldn’t.

Instead, Frankie reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and tapped the screen a couple of times before handing it to you.

“Give me your number.”

You took the phone from him with a swift, almost startled motion, your fingers brushing against his as you punched in your number. The action felt mechanical, as if you were moving through a script you didn’t want to follow. When you handed it back to him, you watched him tap the screen, adding you to his contacts. His fingers moved quickly, but you couldn’t catch the name he gave you. It was probably something ridiculous, something that made you cringe even without knowing it.

He didn’t say anything, just slid the phone back into his pocket, and turned to head for the door. But before he reached it, he stopped and looked at you, his eyes meeting yours once more.

“I’ll text you,” he said abruptly, almost as if it were a last-minute afterthought.

And then, without waiting for a response, he opened the door and left, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the quiet stairs. You stood there, still staring at the empty doorway, the weight of his words hanging in the air long after he was gone.

With one click, you confirmed your attendance.

tags: @darkheartgatita @joelmillerisapunk @nandan11 @whirlwindrider29 @onlythehobi @diabaroxa @yellowbrickyeti (a few of the tags aren't working, idk why, fix it tumblr!!!!)

beautiful divider by @saradika-graphics 💗

646 notes · View notes