#<- desensitized to meat

[kraniumet]

in funner news for me, the kitties love the fresh frozen raw minced meatball cat/kitten food I've begun starting them on. which is good because good for them 👍

[friendly-alien-fucker]

Yes I know he's hot yes I know it's nice to imagine him being a beast in bed but...I just can't stop thinking about how vulnerable a relationship with Thomas Hewitt would be...

Like my man's got seven flavours of trauma, to even get him to the point of actually feeling safe enough to touch let alone be with you is a long journey. And I'm convinced once you get him to this point, realistically, soft is all he'd want to be with you.

His entire life he's been seen as the strong guy, as an animal, and he's worked in a slaughterhouse long enough for him to actually view other people as animals. Not to mention that he's surrounded by people (especially Hoyt) who indulge this behavior. Who praise him for it. (Also yes praise is not a kink with this man, it's a requirement.)

With you he'd want to just be...human. To kiss and be kissed, to experience gentle touches and to actually believe the positive words said about him. And maybe he doesn't yet but he so, so wants to. (God, that scene where he gets out of the basement with the mask and luda tries to touch his face and he just...turns away)

Another thing I've been thinking about that's been pulling on my heartstrings is that because of his trauma, if he ever did get rougher with you and you were to actually scream in bed, this man would be horrified

Because at some point the screams of humans and the screaming of animals stop sounding all that different and never ever wants to think of you this way. Not you. Never you.

Just ugh.

I know not eeeveryone who's into TCM loved The Beginning, but it's my favorite movie of the franchise and I could go on about it for hours

[3-inch-doodles]

jerome introductions !!!!!

[hereticsgravesite]

.

[blujayonthewing]

[LAYS ON THE FUCKING FLOOR] MY MOM LEFT THE GRAVY AND BUTTERNUT SQUASH SOUP SHE MADE YESTERDAY JUST OUT ON THE STOVETOP OVERNIGHT AND ALL DAY TODAY AND THEN TRIED TO FEED IT TO US

[tacticalprincess]

cw blood kink, period sex🩸

könig who doesn’t just not mind period sex, but craves it. he’s overbearing and doting at the slightest inkling of a wince from you, at your side with chocolate and offers of massages for your back-aches. he really should be desensitized to all kinds of blood at this point, though you feel like he can sniff out yours from a mile away. the knowledge that you’re bleeding underneath your comfy clothes has his cock stiffing up in his pants, puppy dog-eyeing you until you convince him to let him fuck the cramps away. he flushes when you complain about how gross he is for liking it so much.

gets so engrossed in the sight of your sloppy, warm cunt coating his hard shaft in a pretty crimson sheen that he forgets this is supposed to be for you. loves how your face pinches up adorably in a mix of agony and pleasure while his cock knocks into your shedding, cramping uterus. you’re extra wet and docile for him - knees to your chest - the glide of his swollen shaft slippery and noisy, large hands pressing down on the bulge of himself in your tummy while he grinds deep inside your sweltering heat. you feel him twitch inside you every time your cramps make you clench around him, walls clinging to every protruding vein lining his thick meat. the notion of being inside you at such a vulnerable time has him shooting off inside you prematurely, but seeing his pearly cum leaking out alongside thick clumps of blood is enough to make him chub up all over again, ready for another round moments after pulling out.

[meattruck]

Honestly i think sakimi should just do a/i art (dataset of her own art ofc) so she can fulfill her business needs and start drawing for herself and start enjoying art again. and if she wishes to post it, she can provide more quality works for her audience while meeting the base needs of monthly drawings or w/e she does

[blkkizzat]

thinking of sucking honey off satorus long juicy d!ck

lmfaoaoaoa that was not what i was expecting coming to check my inbox but im already on demon time so lfg!!

so i headcanon that gojo loves lovingly picking at you, his lil wifey, like the man will just say the most out of pocket crazy ass never-been-touched-degen-ass-shit just to get a reaction from you or sneak up on you just to scare you so he can grope you lmfao. he especially loves doing this shit out of the blue when you are preoccupied with something else. he loves how your cheeks puff out and your face warms as you fluster and hit him as you shoo him off every time.

its one of the cornerstones of your relationship and he's been doing it for years. so he doesn't expect you ever to get desensitized to it enough to return his energy.

thats where he fucked up.

the next time he tries to fluster his cute lil wifey is when you are in the kitchen preparing a nice charcuterie board to take over to Utahime's soon cause all the girls were getting together to binge watch Love Is Blind.

Sneaking up behind you, Gojo wraps his strong muscular arms around you giving you a sloppy wet kiss on the neck before a firm pinch on your ass cheek as he reaches over you to steal some meat and cheese off your tray. "S'TORU!!!" You were so focused on making the presentation of your tray perfect you nearly jump out of your skin flinging the honey you were spooning into a small jar all over Gojo—all over Gojo's dick, to be clear.

the crotch of his pants now soiled with a large sticky glob of honey. not missing an opportunity to tease you Gojo pulls down his blindfold looking at you with his panty-dropping-pussy-dripping-inducing smolder.

"this honey ain't gonna suck itself off sugar lips, come lick this Bit-O-Dick baby."

"bet."

"huh?"

Gojo looks shocked and his blindfold falls down completely as you untie your apron, casting it aside.

"—babe!"

you don't respond with words only your hands when you force him back until his legs hit a kitchen table chair and you push him down to sit.

"good boy."

manspread, Gojo is clearly nervous, practically trembling in anticipation now. It was a joke! Sweating bullets and hands shaking Gojo mind is racing not actually thinking you would fulfill one of his life long fantasies of having your pretty mouth suck his dick off through his shorts. what is going on!?

nestling between his powerful thighs you look up at him with your bright doe eyes you innocently wet your lips. he had the perfect view of your cleavage, seeing just a sliver of your pebbled peaks when the front of your dress dipped lower. your soft hands snake up his leg to squeeze his inner thighs and spread them even wider almost to an uncomfortable stretch as the bulge under his pants visibly throbs through the material.

oh my god, you're actually gonna do this for him!

you haven't even touched his dick yet and its twitching like crazy.

"you ready, daddy?"

"i-i—er—yuhh..."

gojo can barely form words and they fumble out of him from him being embarrassingly hard. you'd see a patch of pre stain his pants if it wasn't for all the honey on his crotch. gojo's whole body is vibrating as he too eager for you to finally do something this fucking lewd for him. your mouth sensually opens to hover over his clothed cock. he can feel your moist breath puff over his length and its near unbearable. tongue extending out as you hover directly over him, gojo with his astute six eyes doesn't miss the small drops of saliva that bead on your sinful lil tongue, rolling down the tip to fall directly on his—

"—OOOH FUHHHHHHCK!!"

warmth spread over gojo's lap and you recoil back startled.

gojo literally came in his pants.

head tilted back his hips spasm up as he lets out a long shakey breath.

"whelp! i guess that's that then."

you hop up, dusting yourself off.

"—waiiiit huh!? babe!"

"nuh-uh toru i agreed to clean off the honey, that was my bad—you nutting yourself? that's your foul...although i have to be honest, i thought the peek you got of my tits would have done it, who would have thought it would have just been my tongue? you're a lil fuckin pervert, you know that babe?"

gojo looks more confused and forlorn as you return to finish packing up your charcuterie board.

"doesn't feel good to be teased now does it, baby? now that's really gonna stain if you don't go clean yourself up soon—sticky dick."

you laugh as you gather up your tray and head out.

leaving gojo to brood in your wake.

oh it was on now.

this was not supposed to turn into this lmfao. it just came out. lmfao also Bit-O-Honey is those old honey candies your granny always had in her purse. i had gojo say Bit-O-dick cause he sick like that fjehkfjhkfj.

gojo a menace. lock him up so i can finish these other fics lmfao. im not doing a pt2 to this lmfaooo it gotta end here plz—just imagine him tying you up and beating your doonies down when u get home as payback 😭

[the-s1lly-corner]

Calling various slashers pretty boy

Oh yeah we are cooking today

Characters: Jason Voorhees, Brahms Heelshire, Bubba Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt, OG Michael Myers

Notes: reader is GN, admin is writing this in bursts so any noticable difference in energy is due to that LMAO, written on mobile

CWs: blood mentions but it's very small

JASON

It takes him a while to believe you think hes pretty since it's so deeply ingrained in his mind that hes got a face only a mother could love

He doesn't reject the nickname, it just takes him some time to truly fully believe you when you call him pretty boy!

The first time he pauses for a moment before turning his gaze towards you... very intense stare

Absolutely melts into your arms when you pepper his bare face with kisses while calling him pretty boy

Hes careful not to smoosh you under him buts hes basically draped over your lap and pressing his face into your stomach

MICHAEL

Little to no reaction when you call him pretty boy, if there IS a reaction hes just the slightest head tilt as he stares you down

He doesnt care all that much, at least as far as you can tell... Michael... isnt the easiest to read

But you're more than sure that he would stamp it out if he didnt like it, so at least you have that going on!

Doesnt take his mask off around you at all so you dont.. actually know what he looks like... you sometimes wonder if he thinks you're just saying the term without actually meaning it

Affection with Michael alwaus feels a little one sided but you know he st least partly cares for you.. maybe..(/lh/hj)

BRAHMS

Oh look what you've done... now hes going to expect you to keep going-

Tell him just how pretty he is, what you like about his looks... he might even insist you call him Pretty Boy in place of his name!

Not that that he isnt going to return at least some of the energy, hes totally obsessed with you and hes not about to let you go feeling unloved

Call him pretty boy while the two of you are cuddling and hes going to grab your face and just.. stare intently..

Then saying you're beautiful in return, likely saying something specific about your face

BUBBA

No ones ever called him pretty boy before... let alone pretty..!

Totally melts when you call him that, pauses his work on whatever hes doing at the moment to process what you've called him before giving a soft giggle

He wants to show you how pretty he thinks you are, too, typically shows that by touching your face and tracing your skin, sometimes playing with your hair

Its... best not to call him pretty boy when hes working on carving up some meat, hes become desensitized to blood..

Unless you're okay with the upcoming mess!

THOMAS

The only person who's really complimented his looks, at least before you came along, was family members

Needs a minute to turn over what you said in his mind, and for a moment you may even wonder if you said something to upset him

Very gently takes your hands and traces them along the sides of his face, against his mask if hes wearing it

Then he holds your face in his hands... it's not a new piece of affection, he occasionally traces his fingers along your skin as the two of you snuggle

Hes going to be thinking about the name for a while, but hes not going to let it get in the way of his work and chores

[myster-tea]

I’m working on what would be Caedes’s statement to The Magnus Institute about him slowly going crazy from that god damn butchering job-

[therobotmonster]

Anybody remember when Velveeta ran all those ads telling people what queso dip was because somehow its existence was unknown to a demographically-significant portion of the populace?

Now we have to "Normalize ranch with chicken and meat?"

"Normalize Ranch?"

Ranch with meat isn't just normal. It's Hypernormal. It's been a standard condiment since the Clinton Administration. It's mayo for people who hate mayo.

RANCH FACTS:

They give you cups of it at wing places, you don't ask for it. You have to tell them to give you something else.

They do the same at pizza places, and also sometimes ranch replaces the red sauce.

Ranch is so American it invades food groups like its looking for oil.

I'm in Oklahoma. We still had dry counties up until the twenty-teens and even we've been dipping our pizza in ranch since videogames came in a plastic cartridge.

It's so basic we've gotten desensitized and we're mainlining Green Goddess and Blue Cheese just feel something.

If you have too much shame to put ranch on something, like meatloaf, that doesn't stop us. We just put the powder directly into the meatloaf.

The average Midwesterner is 17% ranch dressing by volume.

Ranch hasn't become a beverage yet, but it's still trying.

[dykedvonte]

MacCready being one of the few companions to not lose affinity if you eat people makes sense when you remember the fungus in Little Lamp Light grew from decomposing bodies. Like the kids weren’t eating people directly but they were eating people adjacent things.

Not to mention how the Lone Wanderer can trick the kids at LLL into buying “strange meat” to eat which is just human so it’s more likely than not they have just straight up ate people so he’s either very desensitized, knows what food desperation can do to people or feels he really has not ground to stand on since he was in the same boat whether he wanted to be or not.

[severepink]

Ancient Adam! My Design and some thoughts I had about situations/his thoughts.

Kind of a ficlet!

Adam felt a deep sense of anger that bordered on resentment when Eve began crying for the small bird he'd managed to shoot with the tool an angel had instructed him to make.

Somehow, his wife just seemed lost, unable to cope with the situation they'd been forced into.

Hunger gnawed within them both, thirst was ever present, but she would waste precious waters on empathy for a singular source of food he'd managed to find and hunt to sustain her ever growing stomach.

New life. That is what the angel had told him. New life that he was expected to propagate and care fore on top of feeding and sustaining himself and his life.

This creature would hardly be enough for Eve, unless he found another creature... Unless he refined this tool given to him, a tool Eve despised, they would die.

The resentment was only held at bay, because he could not afford giving into his anger. A life alone, a life without her, wasn't one he would have any strength at all to live.

-

The smoke from the wood made him more ravenous than he thought. He'd managed to find another animal, a much, much larger animal with horns and muscle.

He'd managed to strike it perfectly, the feather's he'd added to the end of the arrow made it fly just as the bird had.

Eve was better at breaking the animals he hunted down. He enjoyed resting, after a long hunt, and watching her delicate, intricate fingers work through the flesh and sinew with the knapped rock he'd created for this purpose.

She'd come a long way. It pained him, knowing she desensitized herself, the innocent care she'd had for the animals they'd once been so like, masked and hidden as they tried to survive. While he was gone, she attempted to forage. They continued moving further and further into lands that had green, not the same kind of green as Eden had, but green enough to sustain more creatures. More water too. She'd said she watched the animals to know what could be safe, but also rubbed the flowers, bark, and roots she found on her skin just to be sure when she tasted them to find something edible.

Some of the green she found, she added to the meats he'd caught. The scent, the taste, it was all compounded. As he sat there, his mouth rested against the bow. He gnawed at it, his stomach gurgling and growling, ever persistent in its hunger, only made worse by the long and arduous task of tracking and hauling an animal back to her. The latent energy and nervousness that came from their starvation made him huff out at the same time he plucked the string of his bow. He jumped at the vibration that touched his teeth and echoed out of his mouth, his honey brown eyes widen in shock. The noise alerts Eve, who seems panicked, before he plucks experimentally again. A mischievous smile crosses his face.

-

The blood on his hands reminded him of the first time Eve gave birth. It reminded him of the wound's he'd experienced when being attacked by the lions that prowled after the same prey he needed. Sometimes he could not look away from the blood, how it reflected in his mind, that shining, gleaming apple that'd torn him from his perfect home. The same, glistening, shining red that ever reminded him that he would die. Every death of every creature he hauled back to Eve desensitized him more and more. It was beginning to become fun, hunting these creatures down. Rewarding to wrap his beautiful, perfect, precious family within the hides of these terrible, fascinating beasts. Eve looked beautiful, the leathers she stitched hugged her curves and incited the ordained directive within his loins. He wished to see her grow large. Her stomach, her hips, her thighs. There should be more meat on her bones, more children inside of her, more milk in her breasts. More, more, more.

That would require more of him. More of them both. To sustain more mouth's to feed, he couldn't do it just by his bow alone. He also couldn't do it when Cain cried loudly into the night. The sound often attracted predators, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. Still he staid alert, bow in hand while his boy cried and his wife fretted. Eve had found a crop of small seeds that she harvested many of and ground up into a paste to layout before the fire. She'd done this a time or two, mixing it with her herbs. It tasted delicious, especially when paired with the animal fat. His stomach roared almost as loud as a lion, but he focused on looking at his wife while she rocked and tutted his son. She hummed some soft tune, she named them Lilith-Bai's, much to his distaste, anger, and dismay. He complained plenty, but she persisted, claiming it would scare off his ex-Wife and her fiendish, fallen angel Lucifer, protecting their son. A chord of spite was struck in him, as she sang to quiet their son. Lilith-Bai. He would join Eve, cradling his bow to his mouth and plucked at the string, allowing the vibrations to fall into harmony with his wife's soft singing. The sound echoed into the night and Adam lost himself to the sensation and peace, the noise of his stomach quieting under his focus on creation of sounds. After a while, he realized his son and wife had both gone quiet and a short-lived panic coursed through his heart. "Adam, don't stop playing," His wife admonished him softly from across the fire. His small boy, his tiny son, had his mother's eyes. Those eyes were focused and aware of him. "Cain stopped crying... He likes your noisy bow... It seems it's good for more than just murder," No matter how tired he was. No matter how much he anguished mentally at the loss of his original home. No matter his loss of peace. No matter the shame and embarrassment he felt. The pride that was stoked in his heart from seeing his small family, made every sacrifice worth it. They made living a life outside of paradise worth it.

[machveil]

I’ve seen Retired!Simon Riley headcanons where he opens up a blacksmith/iron working shop - custom knives usually, but I have a different thought! we know he used to work as an apprentice butcher at a grocery… what if he took that up again?

Retired!Simon Riley, who’s desensitized to gore after years of serving, has no problem butchering meat - and the muscle memory from working at that dingy grocery in his youth never left him. even at home, Simon has no problem cutting and trimming different cuts of meat for dinner

Retired!Simon Riley that goes hunting with Retired!Price for their own game - deer, hare, pheasant. potentially runs the shop with Price as partners, I feel like Price goes hunting anyways as a pastime when game season comes around. the two work together running the small location, popular amongst outdoorsmen and neighborhood dads that want to shoot the breeze with them while browsing the counter

Retired!Simon Riley that can turn his brain off and just work with a knife again - meticulously cleans and sharpens them so they’re in perfect condition. rather than owning a blacksmith shop, Simon’s shop works hand-in-hand with an already popular and local iron worker! they help promote each other’s business - the iron worker has a little ‘try-one’ display with smoked and cured meat cuts from the butcher, and Simon showcases custom knives from the blacksmith

[milkycarnations]

I've been bored and can only write for shit when I want to impress someone. Since y'all are putting out good shit all the time, I think y'all deserve to read good shit while you're busy working on your book. This is your fault for making me realize I have a knife thing via Helen. Enjoy my monarchs: @itsabee @13tinysocks

Here's a link if you want to read on Ao3, otherwise it's under the cut!

Brian x afab!Reader | Whet Your Appetite | 5k words

one-shot masterlist | mdni | cw: consensual as always, knife and bloodplay, gunplay but only briefly mentioned, exhibitionism but just a threat, cunnilingus, fear play, missionary, creampie, begging, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, sexual tension

   Thursday nights forced you into a nasty habit. 

       Perhaps “nasty” was a bit too strong; too harsh. Thursday nights grew into something shameful. Embarrassing. Your spontaneous behavior evolved into a habit you kept to yourself - because if anyone found out you’d simply die. Brian cooked on Thursdays for as long as you can remember, but everything started roughly two weeks ago. Two whole weeks of being far too horny for your own good. 

       That night, you sat across from Brian and watched him intently. From your seat at the kitchen bar, you eyed him as he wielded the knife. That was what killed you. It was a simple chef’s knife with a lengthy steel blade, perfect for sharp, quick slices. Over the couple of weeks that you watched him, it became clear that Brian was skilled. You watched as he diced an onion into perfectly uniform cubes. Now, after washing his hands, he was busy peeling carrots before cutting them into coins. 

       At first, you were only impressed at how fast he moved, slicing each coin precisely without hurting himself. That interest swelled until you became fixated. 

       Shifting your weight on the barstool, you leaned forward as you watched him prep. 

       Why did it feel so wrong to find it attractive - Brian cutting fucking produce? It made no sense in your mind, leaving you heavily embarrassed at how much it turned you on. He cooked again that Saturday. Again, on Monday. You had never given it much attention before, but now every time he pulled out the green plastic cutting board and the knife you were there looking on from the sidelines. Brian certainly noticed the change, but you were sure he had no clue as to why. It wasn’t like you could explain it to him. There was no way you could tell him the way he chopped up that red cabbage last night was sexy. Regardless, he accepted your company and sometimes chose to chat with you while he cooked. 

       After a while of trying to cope and pretending you didn’t like it, you came to a conclusion. It was all in his arms and the way his hand gripped the handle of the knife. It made his forearms flex and his biceps bulge out under his shirt. Once that first week ended, you only got worse. You were down bad and it was horrible. 

       That second Thursday, the four of you got lucky and ended up with some extra cash to spare. These days, it wasn’t often that you found someone with six hundred dollars cash in their wallet. You treated yourselves and Brian wanted quality beef cuts for dinner. He chose a stir-fry. Tim requested cold beers.        

       There, you sat pathetically as Brian cubed the raw meat, a light layer of blood speckling his hands and the knife and pooling onto the cutting board. It was fair to say you had become desensitized over the years - you had both killed people, oftentimes together. However, it had not clicked into your head until now that you enjoyed watching Brian cut into things. The blood was a bonus. You had realized that you’d never witnessed Brian do such a thing before. To be fair, wasn’t his style. Blades were more of a Toby thing. 

       That revelation made you even more confused because it forced you to come to terms with your attraction to Brian. You didn’t feel this way watching Toby do the same. You tested it and nothing came up. 

       On a mission with Toby two days later, you kept your eyes on him like a hawk. Enamored with the scene, he sliced and hacked away at the flesh with those hatchets. Skin and muscle split. Blood spilled and coated everything in vibrant, slippery red. There was nothing. Sure, you were full of adrenaline and the adrenaline always left you a bit tingly for hours after, but you decided that it did not relate to Toby. Sure enough, when Brian cooked that Saturday night - a quick meal hours after - it happened all over again. You could only feel so intensely needy with Brian in front of you and a knife in his hand. 

       From there on, you were obsessed. You ate dinner, scooping the pasta with freshly minced garlic into your mouth, and only thought of him. You took your second shower of the day that night and in the steam-filled bathroom, only thought of him. You lay in your bed, tucked under the covers, and only thought of him as you slipped your hand into your shorts. Holding back from moaning his name, you fingered yourself desperately with a heavy ache in your stomach. 

       It was your most shameful orgasm yet, cumming to a man who was sleeping in the next room over who had no clue about your weird attraction to him. Strangely enough, the whole situation was the first thing in years that made you feel depraved, and you had done some sick shit. You slept well through the night but woke the next morning with an obvious wet spot in your shorts. This time, you couldn’t fall asleep to ignore your racing thoughts. 

       As if a conversation with him weren’t awkward enough, now that you’d masturbated to the thought of him, you could barely stand to look him in the eyes. It was impossible to hide how strange you’d been acting and everyone was catching onto you. Toby gave you way too much space, practically avoiding you at all costs. He recognized how you were avoiding Brian and assumed you needed a break from everything going on in the house, including himself. Tim got way too close, assuming you needed help. Though he never asked outwardly if you were depressed, it became obvious when you found a plate of fruit cut carefully into stars and your favorite snack. Tim looked out for you more than before. 

       Brian knew that the attention was fixed only on himself, even though the others hadn’t noticed. However, he hadn’t quite pinned why. All he gathered was that it was between you and him. That led to today. 

       Exactly two weeks and three days after it all started. You had done the same thing nearly every night in a row, each time growing needier and downright lustful. In the morning, you showered in an attempt to wash off the thoughts from the previous night, which did nothing to help. The afternoon was quaint: nobody had plans, which made for a relaxing Sunday evening. You were lying in your room, the door cracked open, daydreaming about nothing in particular and enjoying the rare silence. 

       A knock rapped on your door. 

       “Come in!” you called as you sat up on the mattress. 

       Brian pushed the door in and shut it closed behind him. You hadn’t expected to see him, instead anticipating Tim to come in with a tray of snacks again. It didn’t take long for you to grow nervous. Brian walked up to the bed, his socked feet pattering softly against the hardwood floors. He paused right in front of the bed. 

       “Can I sit?” he asked, his hands hidden in the pockets of his sweatpants. 

       “Sure,” you managed to choke the words out and shifted to hang your legs off the side of the bed. Brian sat down beside you. 

       “Did I do something to upset you?” 

       Brian’s words hurt. It was obvious that he’d assume he did something wrong - you were avoiding him like the plague. Though, it was far from the truth and it wasn’t fair for him to believe it. Still, you couldn’t get yourself to tell him everything. 

       “No. You’re okay,” you spoke. 

       Brian shuffled for a moment beside you, “Then what’d I do? Tim said you’re acting fine around him and Toby hasn’t brought anything up. So I know it’s just me,” 

       You sighed. Was there a point in bringing up silly little lies to save your ass? You valued your relationship with Brian far too much to hurt his feelings over a crush, but you felt like a schoolgirl admitting it. Brian sat in silence with you the entire time, waiting patiently for you to respond. He was never a nervous person at all, but you could see him grow almost desperate as you thought of what to say. The right words never found you, so you spoke with little filter. Brian sat up a little bit straighter as you started. 

       “I think I’m attracted to you, Brian.” 

       The words fell foreign off your tongue. Brian didn’t respond. He hardly moved, but you gathered the courage to look him in the eyes. A wide smile spread across his face. Your face flushed with heat until your cheeks turned blistering hot. Brian either didn’t notice or refused to comment on it. 

       “You think?” he asked. 

       The tension broke once he talked. You breathed out a chuckle and let the anxiety shed away. 

       “Yes, I think,”

       No hesitation. 

       “Do you want me to help you find out?” 

       You wanted to scream. You wanted to squirm in your seat and kick your feet in the air, but you tried to play it off. Though you were mentally losing it, you simply smiled and looked away. 

       “I think I would like that,” you admitted. 

       Brian’s hand came out to touch you lightly on the knee, pulling your attention back to him. You looked his way to catch the hungry gaze in his eyes. Heart thumping in your chest, you glanced down at the way his hand flexed around you. It brought you back to the kitchen with that dumb knife in his hand. Between your legs, you grew more excited and could tell you were becoming wet. It made you ache - he hadn’t even touched you there yet and you wanted him. 

       “Is that why you’ve been watching me cook all of a sudden?” Brian smirked and gently squeezed. 

       It wasn’t why, but he didn’t need to know that. 

       “Sure,” you muttered, trying to subtly rub your legs together. 

       “That’s cute. I felt like you were a bit too interested. But I thought, hey, maybe you were bored.” 

       “You’re a good cook,” you complimented him back, trying to ignore what he said. You were too interested in what he did, but he didn’t have to know why. 

       “I’m curious, then. When did it happen?” he asked you, smirking. 

       You tried not to panic. You didn’t want him to find out the real reason why, maybe sometime in the future, but not now. 

       “I don’t know exactly when,” you lied. It was odd lying to Brian. He was an excellent liar and that set you on edge. It was obvious you weren’t telling the truth and it was evident he caught you in the way his eyebrows lifted as he smiled. 

       “You’re not so sure of yourself, you know.” 

       Quieting, you paused next to him as his hand trailed slightly higher. It made your stomach tighten. 

       “I wanna know what you were thinking when you were looking at me like that. Be honest.” 

       Brian’s words poured like honey. When you managed to meet his eyes, they stared deep into yours. He was an intimidating, coercive man and it was strange being on the other side of it. You froze in his touch, but he waited for you to speak. Outside the room, the sound of Tim starting dinner could be heard: pots and pans were moved and water was running in the sink. 

       “I was impressed,” you admitted. Brian pried further. 

       “Impressed with what? ‘Cuz it wasn’t the food. I saw you at the dinner table with your head in the clouds. Should’ve known something was up. What were you thinking about?” he repeated. 

       The pressure he pushed onto you was intense. You could only imagine what it was like to be on Brian’s bad side - a victim being threatened by him. 

       “I was thinking about the knife,” you finally came clean. This piqued Brian’s interest and his stare grew into something different. His hand now rested on your upper thigh and his body moved to face towards you. 

       “Keep going. Help me find out what this knife has to do with me.” 

       “I liked the way you held it.” 

       Brian chuckled at your response. Though he had caught on, he played along and continued to pry. It was clear he wanted you to say it out loud. 

       “What’s so special about me holding a knife?” 

       You were sure it was the thing with his arms and hands; the way he looked so powerful with it, but that was hard to explain without monologuing the past 2 weeks. You thought carefully about what to say and how to make sense to him. 

       “I guess the way you did it was just attractive to me,” 

       Brian took a big breath in. He had a way about him that was good at appearing disinterested, but the way he gripped onto your thigh was a major tell. He was into this as much as you were. He wanted it as much as you did. You thought about how much frustration you could’ve saved yourself from if you were ballsy enough to tell him earlier. 

       “You’re very special, you know that?” Brian’s face seemed to fluster pink down his neck. 

       Embarrassed with how he spoke to you, you shouted out, “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

       “It means, you’re into dangerous men. Especially dangerous men holding weapons, and you didn’t even notice. How long have you gone along feeling this way? If I knew you’d be ogling at me, I’d have teased you a bit more on our last mission.” 

       “Only recently,” you told him, “But the guns they don’t really do it for me.” 

       Brian looked down at you. It made you wish he were easier to read. 

       “How interesting. Perhaps it’s cause you want something a little more hands-on. Everyone knows that guns are cheating. Too impersonal, huh?” you silently nodded along, “But I like that. The fear of a gun doesn’t do it for you, you need the threat of a knife. Delicate when you want, but just as deadly when you let it touch the right places.” 

       Something thumped in your ears, the sound of your heartbeat, and the blood rushing to your head. You could feel your slick pooling in your panties and your legs slightly parted. Sweat dripped down your back, making you shiver harder as his hand traveled to your hip. 

       “But it’s my turn to be honest. I want to fuck you. So tell me, you okay getting a bit more personal?” 

       “Yes, please. Keep going,” you were shaking and your words came out as whispers. 

       Outside of the room, you heard Toby join the chatter and turn on the television. Though you thought Brian would shove you over and take you right there, he remained beside you and reached into the pocket of his jeans. As he pulled out his hand, you noticed the small pocket knife. He held it out in front of you and pressed a small button. The knife folded open with a click. It wasn’t anything fancy and it was a far cry from the eight-inch chef’s knife in the kitchen. It was black (including the two-inch blade) and it was clean - but it wasn’t like you could die of tetanus regardless. 

       “And do you mind if I use this?” Brian whispered to you, now closer than before. His breath was hot and it only made you more antsy underneath him. You had no idea he kept the knife on him, but it made sense. It looked more for utility than stabbing anyway.

       You shook your head. 

       “Tell me,” Brian urged you. 

       “No, I don’t mind,” 

       As Brian pulled the knife closer for you to look at it, you realized you’d never felt so dizzy beside him before. You were now throbbing as you waited, desperate enough to skip foreplay entirely. 

       “You like it?” he asked. 

       “It looks sharp,” it was true. The pocket knife had a more serrated edge than the chef’s knife, which came to a whetted edge across the entirety of the blade. The tiny black knife looked like it could saw into things. 

       Brian nodded in agreement, “You wanna see how sharp it is?” he said, running his thumb perpendicular across the blade. It made a chime as the metal ran across his thumbpad. 

       “Okay,” your face burned. 

       “Lay down,” he ordered you. You turned and swung your legs back onto the mattress and laid back to rest your head against the pillow. Stiff, you lay there with your legs pushed together and your hands resting on your stomach. Brian crawled over to you, the bed squeaking slightly under his weight. Breathing heavily, he sat above your legs and straddled you. At that moment, you felt like prey beneath him, but you knew he wouldn’t do anything you didn’t ask for. 

       A finger hooked your belt loop. 

       “You like this pair?” he asked you. 

       Confused, you looked down. Your shorts? They were stolen, but they were nice and fit you perfectly. 

       “They’re my favorite,” 

       With the knife still in his right hand, he unbuttoned your shorts and tugged them down. You helped him pull them past your ass and kick them out from your legs. Truthfully, you were still sheepish about being in your underwear in front of him. His fingers traced up your leg and danced along the waistband of your panties. 

       “What about this one?” he questioned. 

       “They’re old-” before you could finish your sentence, Brian eased the knife between your right thigh and the fabric of the panties. He swiftly pulled up and sliced the fabric. Tugging down the ripped cloth, he did the same to the other side, this time sliding in the knife from the top of the garment and slicing laterally just above your hip bone. He pulled the shreds of fabric off of you and tossed the destroyed pair onto the floor. 

       Closing your legs, you squirmed underneath him. The knife was held in his hands in a white-knuckled grip and it made the veins in his forearm pop. Your gaze drifted to the very obvious bulge in his pants. 

       “You like a little more than just me holding a knife, don’t you?” 

       As he asked, he fiddled with the hem of your shirt. Could you deny it? Both of you knew you had some kind of complex. 

       “I think so,” you answered. 

       Brian lifted your shirt to run the blade of the knife across your stomach. With a knife, Brian was capable of many things. 

       “You like the fear, too. You must, ‘cuz me and you both know how easy it’d be for me to gut you right now. I could get excited and slip. Then it’d all be over until you wake up again a few hours later.” 

       Moaning out, you felt yourself drip beneath him. That, you didn’t quite ping about yourself. Of course, you’d imagined Brian hurting other people with the knife, but never yourself. You were putting every ounce of trust you had into him. It strangely felt liberating, knowing you could tell him to stop or tell him to go further and he’d do it all for you. 

       “Don’t you agree?” he called out your name. Maybe he was onto something. 

       “Does it make you feel that way, too? Scared that you might lose control? Does it make you burn inside?” you turned the question back onto him and watched as he genuinely thought about it for a few moments. 

       “I’m a sadist. The thought of hurting you only makes me excited, but the thought of breaking your trust is something different. I’ll go as far as you want, but that means you have to say something if it’s too much.” 

       It could not get more perfect than that. You smiled as Brian pulled your shirt off, tossing it to the floor, and unclasped your bra before slipping it off. Instantly, your nipples hardened after being exposed to the cold bedroom. You felt vulnerable under Brian, still in his jeans and tee shirt. He continued to trace the blade across your chest with care, the chilly flat of the metal gliding over your nipples. Huffing out you clenched your hands into the bedspread. 

       “What about blood? Everyone in this damn house had a blood kink, but how do you feel about your own. Want me to see it?” 

       Trembling under his words, you nodded again before remembering to answer him properly. 

       “I like that. You can cut me a little.” 

       Brian smiled at this, but simply kept tracing the blade gently. He did so for what felt like many minutes before he shifted the pressure to the tip of the blade. It dug into your skin, but simply poked at you, not drawing any blood. You whined at the sensation as he moved the blade to your stomach, right beneath your breasts. Suddenly, you gasped as he sliced the blade in a small cut. It was swift and he was done before you noticed it had happened. The two of you watched as the blood trickled out. It was light, close to a scratch. You knew he was going easy on you, in case you changed your mind. 

       A heavy sigh rang out from above you. He enjoyed watching you like this, his cock pressing hard against your leg through his jeans. You doubted it was comfortable. This time, he grunted as he cut your flesh again. 

       “Why don’t you take your pants off?” you asked him. 

       “I want to fuck you but I don’t want to do it yet. The foreplay just started. Isn’t this what you’ve been waiting for?” he explained himself. 

       “Yes it is, but we can do it again - and I’m already wet enough I just need you now. Please.” 

       Your pleading came out meek and pathetic. You were sure you looked pitiful, but Brian seemed more pleased by your begging than he was before you’d started. 

       “Don’t worry your head over it. I’ll help you manage… but maybe if you beg a bit more I’ll change my mind.” his voice came soft and sweet but his words were far from it. Left hand pulling down, he reached to play with your clit. Moaning out again, you sounded like a wounded animal as he cut you while he rubbed, this time harder than the last. The slice left a stream of blood that trailed across your waist and met the bedspread. 

       “This help?” the circular motions of his thumb on your clit were skilled as if you’d taught him exactly how to do it. As perfect as it was, you wanted so much more. “Does it hurt?” he asked when you didn’t respond. 

       “It’s good,” you mumbled. It was hard to focus on anything but his thumb as he moved from circles to upward stroked, but the knife forced you back each time. His thumb stroked up, and your body bucked, shaking as you waited for him to do it again. Up again, and this time a small nick to the side of your left breast. The whine you let out was strangled and he stopped, leaning in close to you. 

       “You want everyone to hear you? ‘Cuz if so, I’ll open the door and invite them in. If not, you should be a bit quieter.” 

     When you whimpered this time, you pressed your lips tight together. You weren’t sure if Brian was serious about it - could that be his dark secret? Instead of playing into it, you shook it off. You’d bug him about it later. Right now, you were too focused on the way he kept snapping his thumb up and the way the knife returned - this time to your thigh. Shifting his weight, Brian moved down your body, his face close to your pussy. He was staring at it intently as he trailed the knife across your thigh and moved it inward. 

       Breath hitching, you tried not to twitch under his grasp. Yes, toying with the knife along your chest was dangerous, but there were femoral arteries in your thigh and not as much protection. Arteries spray - you’d make a mess on the bed and Tim would certainly get involved when he would inevitably find out you needed stitches from being alone with Brian. That would open a completely new doorway. It forced you back to what Brian said. You didn’t want anyone to know yet, so you sat still as he held the knife tight against your skin. 

       Instead of snapping up, this time Brian snapped his thumb down, trailing it across your entrance. 

       “You didn’t lie about being wet. You’re everywhere.”

       Holding the knife against your left leg, he played with the slick between his fingers before leaning in, propping your other leg up with his free hand. Teasingly, he took an experimental lick and laughed as your body tensed, but no noise came out. 

       “Just because we have to be quiet doesn’t mean you have to hide from me,” he said before sucking at your clit. 

       “I know,” you breathed out, “but I’m scared I’ll fucking lose it.” 

       Humming against you, he started to eat you out. You were near tears. It was hard not to cry out for him like a slut at this point, so you slapped your arm around your face and muffled your sounds. Brian knew just as well as you, so you also struggled not to shake too hard as he held the knife against your inner thigh. How could he know what you were thinking? How did he know that spot was what you worried about? 

       He sucked and lapped passionately like a dog, the sounds filling the room. He started moaning into you, each time louder than the last. You panicked. Though you were trying so hard, he was the one who was going to get you caught and he was doing it on purpose. As he moaned again, you pushed your entire body further into the bed and shot your other hand out to shove his face into your cunt. With the sounds he was making, it would be obvious that you were fucking, but he was fucking with you, so he moaned louder.

       The vibrations from his mouth made you cry out, the noise muffled by the crook of your arm. Hard, you gripped Brian’s hair and pulled on it. This time, he groaned out, but it felt less purposeful and more accidental. Once more, you tried not to buck your hips into him. 

       “Okay, really. Stop teasing.” you begged him, but he made no effort to move, “Please, I need you inside me I can’t take it anymore!” 

       Once the harsh whispers fell off your lips, Brian dropped your right leg onto the mattress and you let go of his hair. At first, you were confused that he still hadn’t pulled away, until he pushed two fingers into you at once. Arching your head back, you gasped. You could easily take one, but both were enough to stretch you a little bit. This far in, you were so wet and needy he could slip in without fingering you. Still, he began to work his fingers in and out. 

       “That’s not what I mean and you know it. Dammit!” 

       A tongue flicked across your clit. 

       “Just making sure you’re ready…” 

       “Fuck!” you choked out as the pressure built. The pace was quick and steady; you knew it wouldn’t take long. You were panting now and you took both hands to grab his face. Looking him in the eyes you begged again. 

       “Please, I want you to fuck me! I don’t want to beg for it anymore, I want your cock inside of me.” 

       Each word came out between gasps. Your entire body felt like a spring coil ready to burst back into place. Brian pulled his fingers out of you and tore the knife away, tossing it beside you. His shirt came off first, followed by his pants - which he barely managed to pull off. Once his boxers were out of the way, his cock sprung up. In the light of the bedroom, you could see the gleam of precum leaking from his tip. Grabbing onto your hips, he yanked you towards him. Without being asked, you bent your knees and held your legs in the air. 

       Pushing his body in between your thighs, he picked up the knife beside you and flashed it, placing it against your neck just as fast. He didn’t give you time to think about it before he pushed his dick into you. Leaning your head back, you whined; it was much better than two fingers. He set a harsh pace, fucking deep into you as he held the blade to your neck. His other hand grabbed your shoulder and pushed you into the mattress. 

       You were dizzy all over again. Fear. Your cunt clenched around him and he groaned, hardly able to keep his eyes open, but boy he loved the sight of you. 

       “Fuck!” you cried as your orgasm crashed around you. Though you felt it building, the release was sudden. With no warning, your pussy fluttered around him uncontrollably. 

       “Oh shit,” he breathed out panicked, and tossed the knife off the bed, away from your neck. It clattered on the ground and slid across the floor, hitting your desk chair with a ping . Gripping onto you tighter, he set a ruthless pace as he rode out his orgasm, pumping his cum into you. 

       With the two of you spent Brian collapsed onto you like a human-weighted blanket. Sighing, you closed your eyes. There was no way they hadn’t heard you, but for now, you would ignore it. Brian hadn’t caught his breath, but he was cocky, “So, did you figure it out?” 

       Smiling, you laughed, “Yeah and we’re gonna do that again.” 

       Arms wrapped around you and you sunk further. 

       “I still think you look hot with a knife in your hands.” 

       “I’m glad. Next time, you can help me figure something else out, huh?”

[schoenpepper]

'Til Someone Gets Hurt (Mean Girls the Musical)

Intro: You play a game with Floyd Leech. At the end of it all, you both get hurt.

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, not proofread, high schoolers doing things high schoolers should not be doing, do not imitate, Floyd Leech comes with a warning of his own, google translated French, bad words

A/N: Don't mind me just casually vaguely mentioning my oc see if you can spot 'em huehuehue

Masterlist

Yes, I look perfect

Ice Queen, that's what you see

It's what they all expect from me

But it's all show!

Go to school, they said. It'll be fun, they said. You're so gorgeous you definitely won't have a hard time fitting in with everyone, they said. You think to yourself as you jot down notes on paper, that if you ever found out who "they" were, you would push them out a window and watch them fall splat on the pavement into nothing but what was previously a meat puppet. Your eye catching good looks didn't mean shit back when you were being homeschooled by your parents in Africa, but Coral Shore High is not nearly as subtle in its staring as the monkeys and lions you used to talk to. You feel too many eyes on you and it makes you grip your pen tighter and wish to stab them all out one by one.

You thought humans had more decorum.

The fucking parakeets had more etiquette, that's for sure. Especially when you're making your way to the cafeteria and some girl trips (a little too obviously) right into your arms. She's all blushy and fidgety when you gently push her upright on the ground, and she thanks you and offers her number.

"Oh." You say with a blank stare. "We didn't have phones back in Africa."

"I could teach you if you—"

"Sorry, I don't have a phone."

With that beautifully blatant lie, you walk off to line up in the canteen to grab a tray of food, surprisingly more edible than movies portrayed high school food to be. You stand still and scout out which table is most optimal, and end up getting flagged down by some tall, champagne blond hottie with purple tips in his hair. He's definitely at least as attractive as you, so you think that he won't be slobbering all over you like the guys you sat with yesterday. It only takes a few steps for some wall to bump into you, teal hair and mismatched eyes and muscle and sharp teeth, leering down at you for only a second before marching off.

"Watch where you're walkin', shrimpy."

You don't appreciate the nickname, but you ignore it and go sit down next to the beautiful blond man. It's your lucky day because Vil Schoenheit is a model, full on desensitized from faces like yours. And he feels like a naggy mother with the way he grills you over your choice in food. He's kind, but it's hidden behind words so sharp they could stab you right in the gut. Rook Hunt is another handsome blond, if not a little unsettling when he fawns over your beauty in mixed French, and he gives off similar vibes to poachers your parents used to ward off in the savana. Epel Felmier is more cutesy than Vil's regal brilliance or Rook's off-putting handsomeness, but he threatens to throw hands when you say he's pretty.

Well, maybe you can fit in, after all.

Face it, you used me

You saw the sexy clothes

My supermodel pose

What did you know?

You should have stayed with the pretty trio instead wandering on your own. In your defense, you were just walking to class and minding your own business. Except, said class is in a building with the entire football field across the one you were in, and said football field has, regrettably, the football team playing on it. You feel nothing but disgust when the wolf whistles reach you, and absolute abhorrence when three guys with very punchable faces approach you with sly smirks, the rest of the team watching on.

"Hey sexy. You look like you could use some lovin'~"

You roll your eyes and keep walking. Surely, this is a clear enough sign of your disinterest, yes?

"Oh, playin' hard to get. That's hot."

"You're cute when you're mad."

"Baby, you wanna skip class with us and—"

You give them your best, and most charming smile.

Rook taught you that everyone deserves to see beauty before they feel excruciating pain. And you're sure, when your knee meets three different pairs of balls in succession, that the rest of the team sharply takes in a breath. "You wanna have more fun, boys?" You drawl lazily with a soft grin. "I have a little bit of time to play with you."

They don't answer as they curl up on the grass in pain. Satisfied with your handywork,  you go back to walking to your calculus class.

You don't notice trouble, but he notices you.

"Are you interested in them?" Jade asks, clad in comfortable casual clothes while sat on the bleachers as he hands Floyd a bottle of water. Floyd laughs and eyes his three teammates who were struggling to get back up. And then, inevitably, back to you. "See Jade, I thought it was just another shrimp. But now I think they're more like a sting ray." He licks his lips. "That's fun. I like fun. I wanna try 'em."

Jade chuckles along with him.

Was I a game to you?

Was I a way to be cool?

I truly cared

Was I the fool?

"You hooked up with who, now?"

Vil's gaze has a way of making you feel like every decision you've ever done is stupid. To be fair to him, however, this one certainly is. You grimace and take a sip of your energy drink, pointing at one of the guys practicing on the basketball court. Floyd shoots a three-pointer and grins your way, flexing his shoulders so that the scratch marks you'd left last night peek out of his jersey.

"How in the world are you so infuriating?! Do you know who that is?"

"I mean, I was drunk." You sigh. Vil looks at you like a disappointed parent while Epel and Rook look at you in shock. "Besides, it's just a hookup. I don't even have his number, I'll probably never talk to him again."

"Then why are we here at your behest?"

You feel your cheeks flush. "Because I wanted to watch basketball?"

Even you know your excuse is shitty, but it's not as if you could tell the trio to their faces that last night felt good and Floyd was really right up your alley and your hands missed the feel of his abs, right? The man seems really in the mood today as he effortlessly makes another shot, making you clap your hands slowly. You stop when you see the three glaring at you. "You certainly have a unique eye for beauté." Rook says lightly, and you're pretty sure he's just saying you have bad taste. "Floyd Leech, twin to Jade Leech, part of football, basketball, swimming, and volleyball, an athletic superstar with a rather dreary disciplinary track record erased by his parents. He's left handed, has had at least four previous relationships, has almost beat someone to death twice, and spent the night in juvie just before his eleventh birthday."

"Rook, how do you even know all of that?"

Rook smiles and puts a finger to his lips. "That is a secret. Still, he is not exactly a prime choice for a partner. May I interest you in some other options?"

"You may not." You sigh.

"Well, if Y/N says it was just a hookup, then it's probably the end of it." Epel smiles softly, and you almost feel guilty when you nod with him. Right before you get in your car to drive home, you get a text from Floyd.

[Floydie: my team totally saw ur marks on my back hehe]

[Floydie: u should do it again sometime jellyfishie]

It's fine for you

It's fine to flirt

It's fine

'Till someone gets hurt

'Till someone gets hurt!

You know it's just a game.

He knows it's just a game.

You're two high schoolers making high school mistakes, and you take it all in stride when you let him into your house. Your parents are off somewhere so you don't need to worry about getting caught, but what you do have to worry about is Floyd finding some weird house ornaments your parents love and playing with them. "Floyd! Stop it, that's not a toy." You take the vase from his hands and put it back on the counter. "If you touch another delicate item in this house that you could very well break I will kick you out, do you understand me?"

"Okay chill, clownfish. I won't touch."

"Good." You sigh in relief and lead him up the stairs to your bedroom. Is it a good idea to let your booty call into your home? Probably not. But there's a calculus exam tomorrow that Floyd hadn't studied for, and Jade warned that if he fails, he'll get suspended from all his sports until he can get his grades back up. You didn't know what that had to do with you, but Floyd insists you tutor him or he won't get you laid while he's suspended.

Rude.

"What about this one?" He points at another question on the textbook. The two of you are sitting on the floor, comfortably leaning on each other with your tiny study table propped up on the rug. You glance at the equation and point to the notebook in your hands. "That one is similar to—Floyd." You hiss out a warning when you feel his hand crawling up your thigh. "We're supposed to be studying, remember?"

He giggles, tracing his finger on the hem of your shorts. "But that's boring, right? Let's have some fun."

"No, Floyd, what if you fail your exam?"

He leans in closer to you. As his lips find yours, he pushes the study table away and your notebook along with it. "I lied to you, you know?"

"There's no calculus exam?" You huff.

"There is~ But I don't need your help to pass." He's toeing the lines you set, nudging your boundaries in his favor. "I just wanted to see your home! And your bed...and maybe you naked on it..."

You don't fight back when his hands are moving up underneath your shirt, only rolling your eyes and muttering under your breath. "This better be good, Floydie. And you better help do my laundry tomorrow."

He laughs again.

Feel my heart beating

I'm just like her or you

People forget I'm human too

Yes, they do that

Vil shouldn't have told you to join the cheer team, and he certainly shouldn't have forced you to wear the cheer uniform in the ungodly colors it has. You give him an unimpressed look, tugging on the edge of your crop top. "I look like a glowing neon sign at the door of a strip club. Or a toxic mushroom. Or a hallucination of someone who's high off Everclear and cocaine." You didn't think anyone would ever be crazy enough to pair traffic cone orange and cyan together, but somehow, the cheerleading outfit proves you wrong.

"It's...atrocious, yes." Vil nods.

You're shocked he has the audacity to agree with you when his cheer outfit is dark blue and cyan, an actually cohesive color combination.

"Ne t'inquiète pas, Y/N. You are beauté!"

You don't want to look at Rook who's sporting a neon green and orange crop top and skirt combo.

"Y'all look ridiculous." Epel drawls in his casualwear, pushing his hands into his hoodie pockets as he looks at the way the three of you are dressed.

You and the rest of the cheer squad are called to the field before the players arrive, performing a few routines to rally the audience. You don't really think you have anything to fear considering your school's football team is the best one in the state (and Floyd's probably left at least one person from each team they've ever played against a healthy dose of trauma), so all your focus is more on trying not to blind yourself whenever you catch a glimpse of Rook from your periphery. As you'd expected, the game is won all too easily with your booty call seemingly in just the right mood, and he runs towards you happily, spinning you around in his arms while your friends watch on in distaste and disappointment.

"Floyd, put me down!"

"Nuh uh, mandarinfish, you look so cute!" He smiles at you as he carries you. You sit on one shoulder and watch him celebrate with his teammates, grinning up at you occasionally. You give up trying to get back down.

"Did you cheer for me?"

In the football team's empty locker room, when everyone else is out in some diner ordering milkshakes as a trophy, you have one leg up Floyd's shoulder as the other one shakily wobbles to try and keep you upright. He's laughing at you but steadying you by the waist, squeezing the skin exposed by the uniform. "So flexible, hm~?"

"Floydie, fuck, stop teasing!"

He drinks in your whimpers and giggles. His hips roll against yours in a fluid, familiar motion, and the thin fabric you're wearing is not enough to stop the feeling.

"If you weren't cheering my name before, I'll make sure you scream it out now, okay?"

This is performance

This is all self defense

I thought you had the sense

To see through that

[Floydie💙: bettafish wer u at]

[Floydie💙: if u come to the party w some other dude istfg]

[Floydie💙: 😠]

Your first Halloween party starts off with a series of angry texts from your friend with benefits (you tell yourself you like him platonically, enough times for it to stick to your head). You chuckle and shoot him back a reply before going back to staring at yourself in the mirror. "I feel like this kind of costume should be illegal." You say to your friends waiting outside the curtain. You don't think white and green underwear with plastic robo wing attachments and silver boots count as a 'costume', much less clothing, but you have to admit that Vil's taste is still impeccable even when it concerns slutty halloween outfits.

It makes you look super fucking hot.

Not that you weren't already, but you're sure if he sees you like this, he'll drag you into an empty room and eat you like a free-for-all buffet. Not that you mind.

"Well? At least come out and show us."

You don't want to annoy the queen bee, so you step outside in your sacrilegious Buzz Lightyear mockup and turn around so they can inspect it. Vil gives an approving nod, Epel claps with an amazed expression on his face, and Rook spouts off some soliloquy about your beauty. You admire their equally slutty halloween fits; Vil dressed as Suicide Squad Margot Robbie's Harley Quinn, Rook looking like a cowboy stripper, and Epel as... why is he dressed in a giant inflatable apple costume? You shake your head and ignore the elephant (epelphant) in the room. "Anyway, this party's not really all that important, but Neige insisted we be there." Vil scoffs. "And he better have his jaw dropped to the floor with how much hotter I am than he is."

That's what he says, but upon pulling up to the party and thirty minutes later, he's less 'preening like a peacock' and more 'getting some cute guy's tongue shoved down so far his throat it probably reaches his esophagus as said cute guy is practically rutting into him in the hallway'. You swear you've never seen this guy in your life, but Rook assures you that Vil knows what he's doing (which you do not doubt) and pushes you along as you try to find Floyd in the sea of illegally drunk high schoolers. You assume a six foot hunk of muscle wouldn't be too hard to find, but you struggle for ten minutes and decide to just give up and text him.

[You: where tf are u]

[Floydie💙: thats what ive been asking dhfjk]

[Floydie💙: did u just get here]

[You: no i was watching vil get it on with some dude]

[Floydie💙: ew gross get ur ass to the second floor first room on the right]

When you get there, you find Floyd in a low effort zombie costume, sitting on the rails of the balcony with his legs swinging. He gives you a smirk and pats the space next to him. "You look real nice. C'mere." You sit next to him, making sure your plastic wings don't accidentally push him off the edge. "Whose house is this anyway? How did they get permission to throw a party this big?" You ask as you lean against his shoulder. His arm wraps around you and pulls you closer to himself. You find your legs swinging in the same pattern as his.

"Some guy."

"Not important?"

"No."

You chuckle at his words. You find him looking up at the stars, so you do the same. "The light pollution in the city's made the sky a little worse." You mumble softly. "In the savanna, the skies were always so clear. You could see every star shining brightly when it's night."

"That sounds real nice."

"It was."

"I wanna see it someday." Floyd hums. "With you."

You close your eyes and push his words out of your mind.

Was I too proud with you?

Was I too cold and forbidding?

And you chose her over me

Are you kidding?

Are you kidding?

The game's gone on for too long.

Your fuck buddy, somehow, is sitting next to you in the cafeteria. For two weeks now. Azul is at the head of the table, Vil is on the other head, Rook and Epel are on one side while you, Jade, and Floyd sit on the other. They all seem to be getting along well enough, and even Vil, who's always been against your less than stellar taste in men, seemed numb enough to the sight of Floyd practically sprawled over your lap as he nudged another spoon of his homemade lunch against your lips. "Come on, sea star, another bite? Just another one, please, I worked real hard on it for my little sea star, y'know?" You're helpless at the sight of his puppydog eyes and eat what he's offering.

"Yay~"

"This is vomit inducing." You hear Azul mutter under his breath, and to be honest, you might be a little inclined to agree if you didn't enjoy Floyd's company so much. Of course, it doesn't end at one bite. As you've done in the past two weeks, you set aside your bought lunch (that scrappy guy in the volleyball team can handle it) and finish Floyd's bento. You used to feel bad for doing so, but you found out on the first day it happened that he actually brings two bento boxes so that he can feed you before he eats.

"Good sea star, next week you can just not buy lunch!" He pats your head happily, and you nod along.

Have you been too close to Floyd?

You wonder as you walk down the halls, waving and smiling at acquaintances who call out their greetings. You know he's here again when the people around you start to shy away, faces like they've seen a monster. You don't blame them, you know Floyd has a reputation for being rather violent, if not just a straight up bully.

You've just never experienced it.

Not when he's studying with you, going to your cheer practices and screaming your name, chatting with you about random things for hours, bringing you food he'd cooked by himself, giving you little trinkets he said reminded him of you...

Your heart tightens.

He's a better player than you thought.

His arm is wrapped around your shoulder as he chatters your ear off about how he and Jade are going on a hike on the weekend. You listen intently, nodding along all the way to the parking lot. He walks you to your car and even opens the door for you. Your mind blanks when he leans down to kiss you (it's sweet, it's tender, it's so weird but you don't care). You give him a smile and shut the door before driving away.

You have two days where Floyd will be out of town with no reception.

Two days to clear your head.

Two days to reset your boundaries with him.

You wonder if two days are enough to remind yourself the words he'd told you in the beginning of your arrangement.

"Don't go fallin' for me, 'kay? That's boring. I don't like boring. The moment you get boring, I'll drop ya', capiche?"

"What if you fall for me?"

"Hah? Ain'tcha funny? I don't fall."

Right. He doesn't fall. Even if all his actions right now make it seem like you two are dating, it's all a trap. And you like him a little too much to just end it right there. You'd rather be his contractual fling than be that one person who caught feelings in an fwb situation, wouldn't you?

Poor little me

All trapped in this fabulous show

You could set me free

But if you're going, go!

Go! Oh! Oh!

[Floydie💙🥰😚: seashell have you been avoiding me]

You know Floyd's serious when his texts aren't a mess of shortened words.

[You: no??? just been busy w that math comp training]

Your excuse is bulletproof. Sure the nerds in the 'mathletes' team drool over you occasionally, but it's a small price to pay in order to get your head on straight. Two days with no contact wasn't nearly enough. In fact, it only cemented the saying 'absence makes the heart grow fonder'; indeed, when Floyd was gone, you only missed him more and more. You think that one of these days, you might just make a mistake and tell him the truth. But the thing is, Floyd doesn't need your love.

Floyd doesn't want your love.

Instead of stuttering and stumbling about in front of him, you choose to run away from your problems. Whenever you have free time, you cover it up with math training and tutoring in preparation for the competition. When lunchtime rolls around, you tell your friends you need to be eating with your teammates in order to foster a sense of camaraderie and cooperation (bullshit). After school, you tell Floyd he'll only be a distraction if he studies with you, and you really need to study for that math competition.

In short, that math competition has been carrying most of the load of your excuses.

[Floydie💙🥰😚: when i find you im going to shove you in the janitors closet]

[You: thats bullying, floydie]

[Floydie💙🥰😚: nah seashell imma fuck you in there 🙂]

[You: threatening]

[Floydie💙🥰😚: not a threat its a promise]

You hope he doesn't find you, really. If only because you still can't control your stupid heart around him, and every glimpse you catch of him is infinitely expanded in your dreams. You watched him for a little while during volleyball practice, and you had a very shameful dream regarding the volleyball court, an audience, and Floyd pushing you up against the net.

You put your phone down when Professor Crewel calls for your attention.

"There are only three days left until the competition, pups, so I expect all of you to be on your best behavior."

There's also only three days left before the Spring Fling, meaning, you can't attend the formal that has the entire student body buzzing. You voted for Vil as Spring Fling Queen, obviously. And Spring Fling King. He was in both categories so you did as a good friend would do and voted for him in both categories, as well as helping Rook spread the word for everybody else to do the same. You look down at your practice booklet to see Crewel's bright red 'good pup' and a 100 next to it. You'd rather go compete anyway.

Floyd in a suit might just make you melt.

"You're really not going? Not even after the competition?"

In your room, you pinch your phone between your ear and your shoulder as you flip through a textbook. Vil's voice is elegant as ever even through the speakers. "Nope, sorry Vil. You know my situation."

"Oui! We understand, Y/N." Rook chuckles in the group call. "It must be quite difficult being caught like prey in the trap of love, non?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"What didja' say?!"

"Rook!" You hiss out, slamming your book close. "I am no such thing."

"Please, Y/N, you underestimate Rook's perceptiveness." Vil scoffs. "Explain."

You groan. "It's nothing, alright?"

"Non! It is not nothing. Our dear Y/N has fallen madly in love with that Floyd Leech and is now on a mission to erase their feelings in order not to get hurt. Oh, the beauté of amour jeune et douloureux."

"Rook, shut up!"

"Y/N, is it true?"

You purse your lips. It takes you a few seconds to answer. "And if it is?"

"Then you have really bad taste."

"Whatever. Just please, if he ever asks you guys about me, just say I'm in training."

"He has been asking about you."

"What did you say?"

"That you're busy."

You nod and sigh in relief. A message pops up in your screen.

[Floydie💙🥰😚: seashellllll]

[Floydie💙🥰😚: i miss u ☹️]

[You: haha]

You almost send an 'i miss u too'. You don't, though. Because you're smarter than that, aren't you?

[You: i'll see u after the comp ok]

[Floydie💙🥰😚: not if i hunt u down first 😠]

It's fine for you

It's fine to flirt

And God, you're hot

Why do you even wear a shirt?

It's fine!

Damn, you're fine.

Damn, you're mine!

You're really good at this hiding thing.

(Of course you are, or Floyd would've found out about your feelings for him ages ago.)

Three days pass all too easily and he never even catches a whiff of you. You win the ICMT State Final Championship (sponsored by no one), and as you sit in the back of the van with your teammates all rowdy in celebration around you, you take out your phone and take a look at your messages. You're not surprised it's mostly Floyd.

[Floyd: wer u at]

[Floyd: coral]

[Floyd: i thought u wer gonna b at the sf 😐]

[Floyd: is ur stupid comp not done yet or wat]

[Floyd: i cant dance the waltz thing w no partner yk]

[Floyd: like halfway done rn]

[Floyd: r u not seeing my messages coral]

[Floyd: jade just called me lovesick lmao tf does that even mean smh]

[Floyd: can u reply when u get my messages]

[Floyd: pls]

[Floyd: did u win]

[Floyd: go win ok]

[Floyd: do u also think im lovesick]

[Floyd: r u avoiding me cus u think im in love]

[Floyd: if i promise im not will u come back]

[Floyd: what do u want me to say]

[Floyd: im sorry coral 🥺]

[Floyd: it just happened]

[Floyd: pls reply]

[Floyd: i miss u sm]

[Floyd: im sorry]

You hear your heart breaking in your chest.

[You: im not avoiding u]

You walk into the auditorium in your 'Mathletes' shirt and jogging pants, a gold medal around your neck. You look very out of place in the ocean of sparkles and sequins, but Rook quickly waves you over with him and Epel. "The crowning is just about to start, you have incroyable timing!" You watch the nominees on the stage as Crowley reads out a script from a cue card. "And the winner for Spring Fling Queen is... Vil Schoenheit."

You clap along with everyone when the blonde walks onto the stage and gracefully accepts the crown.

"And the winner for Spring Fling King... is also Vil Schoenheit."

Everyone claps louder as Vil chuckles on the stage, placing the other crown on top of the first one. He now has two sashes crossing over each other with two large bouquets in his hands. The principal cancels the 'King and Queen first dance' portion and invites everyone to waltz. Even as you stick by Rook and Epel's sides, you can feel a familiar gaze on you following you through the dance floor.

"Y/N."

It's Jade.

"Hi. What's up?"

"My brother has been quite, hm, mopey, lately. Would you happen to know anything about that?" You shrug.

He doesn't seem to believe you, and his smile doesn't reach his eyes. You swear his entire aura darkens when he speaks again. "I really do like you Y/N, you've made my brother so happy, and he's always such a joyful figure whenever I see him cooking for you in the kitchen. However, he's been quite distraught as of late, with neither appetite nor cheer since you've begun avoiding him in the name of your competition. Now that said competition is over, congratulations by the way, it is in your best interest to talk your problems out with Floyd, wouldn't you agree?"

People always said Floyd was scarier. You wonder if you can record Jade as he is right now as evidence to disagree.

"Jade, we don't have problems, okay? Floyd and I just want different things." You take a small step back with both arms raised up. "I'm just respecting his boundaries."

"Is that so? Then pray tell, what is it that you want from Floyd that you believe he disagrees with?" He tilts his head, grinning toothily. "Is it that you only wish to remain in your contractual physical relationship? Even so, you could at least reject him outright, yes? What good would it do either of you if the only thing you do is run?"

"No! It's the opposite. He doesn't want an actual relationship. That's what he said. He said if I fall for him then it's over and Jade, I don't..." You gingerly tug at his sleeve, forcing your tears back. "I don't want to lose him. If the only way I can have him is by having a no-strings attached kind of thing, then that's fine. I'll talk to him again, just, when I've finally settled my feelings, okay? Please."

He looks shocked by your words. 

Jade sighs and plops you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You don't struggle (because it's pointless), and no one in the crowd bats an eye (Floyd may be seen as scarier, but that didn't mean Jade was weak or angelic). He deposits you to the door of the parking lot and heads back inside the party, waving you off with a few more words. "He's at his usual spot, probably whining to the moon about you. Do fix him up for me."

And it's fine!

'Till someone gets...

Hurt! Hurt!

'Till someone gets hurt!

'Till someone gets hurt!

It feels like a walk of shame when you head towards Floyd's favorite parking spot. You're pretty sure it was supposed to be for faculty members only, but you don't believe that principal Crowley has any sort of dignity left for him not to sell a faculty parking space to a well paying student (you don't want to know what the Leech parents do, not now at least). You spot him easy, laid down on the top of his jeep in a crisp suit and tie that looked like it was ironed right onto his body. He's murmuring things you can't understand, but you really don't believe that he's 'whining about you to the moon', as his twin had claimed.

You knock on the side of the car.

When he looks over at you, you give him a smile and reach your hand towards him. "Get me up, Floydie?" With his help, you climb onto the roof and sit down next to him. He's staring at the stars again, but he's never let your hand go even once.

"Why were you avoiding me?"

"I wasn't avoiding you."

"Stop lyin'."

You purse your lips. You're never sure what to do in moments like this, when he sheds all his playful mischief. He seems like a completely different person. Not bad. Just so... different. And he doesn't seem mad (you'd have an easier time if he was), but the conflicting feelings swirling within his skin escape through him and taint you too. You do what you're used to doing with him; get physical. You turn to straddle his lap and lean in closer to him. Your legs are propped up on either side of his own as he leans back on his arms, palms flat on the roof the two of you are sitting on.

Your fingers grip onto his tie, lightly tugging. "Floyd." You barely acknowledge one of his hands resting on the back of your thigh. "I've just been so confused lately. I want you in so many ways and what we have right now? It just doesn't cut it anymore. So tell me off, okay? Tell me you want me to leave. But if you want me to stay then, tell me that you like me. Tell me that you want me. Tell me you love me."

Will he say the words?

Probably not.

This on and off situationship leaves no room for genuine feelings between the both of you. But you make it clear to yourself that this is last time. He can't play with you any longer, and you won't toy with him anymore. And if he doesn't say what you want to hear, then you'll let him go. It's so easy you can't believe you didn't do it forever ago. You keep your eyes trained on his mismatched ones of gold and olive and, even though you know he'll let you down, your heart pitter patters in a rhythm you've heard before. Floyd seems to be thinking your words over as his thumb rubs small circles into the cloth of your pants. You wonder if he's taking this as seriously as you are. Can he see a life with you? Does the thought of settling down bore him?

You can't think about it. If you do, you lose.

Force yourself up into the higher position and gain the upper hand, because the man in front of you is a vulture circling overhead for signs of weakness. If he finds it, he might just tear you apart. "Y/N." There's an unprecedentedly serious look on his face as his slanted eyes bore into you like they're picking you apart and deciding which pieces of you are worthy of keeping. "The moon looks beautiful tonight, doesn't it?"

You laugh.

So many months of pining and hopeless romance-ing has lead to this. You don't hear what you want.

But it's practically the same thing.

It feels rather anticlimactic. But he's swallowed his pride and admitted his mistake, at least, in your eyes. And if this is the closest you can get to him, the closest he'll let you get to him, then it'll do for now.

"Floyd."

You tug him by his tie until his lips are brushing against your own.

"It's the most beautiful moon I've ever seen."