#zero acknowledgement of the fact that he fucked up

[lundenloves]

DAD SIMON AND THE 141 VISITING TO CHECK THE KID OUT FOR THE FIRST TIME PLAPSSLSLSPSLSLSK AND HE GETS SO JEALOUS WHEN OTHERS HOLD HIS SWEET BABY PATOOTIE PRINCesss

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Anon, I may have strayed from your original thoughts a little. I hold my hands up. At this point, he has been back and had time with her already this is just 141 meeting her. And it's very? Thought-provoking? Possibly not how you imagined? Alas, voila.

Having a newborn allowed for zero quiet. Nothing of the sort was even imagined, sleep was out the window and tiredness was the new trend. It became tougher when Simon had to go back to work, leaving you behind with a long apology and his credit card. What was the card for? You weren’t sure, but made sure it was used like fuck. £17.32 on McDonald’s delivery didn’t seem as painful with his money.

And that’s exactly what you were doing, happily. Baby sleeping on your almost bare chest with a haul of food around you in bed. It was only seven but you had no reason to be up and about, and the reality tv wasn’t going to catch up on itself.

In fact, you were about to reach the episode climax of Love Island. Someone had been mugged off and the producers were keen on making a drama of it, issuing a re-coupling. But. Right before you could skip the credits and fast-track to the next episode, the bedroom door swung open and you screamed. Waking your daughter who naturally began to cry.

"Fucking hell." You frowned at Simon who had quickly shut the door behind him upon seeing you. He wasn't due back till tomorrow. "Scared me.” The scold in your voice was one he ignored, picking up a milk-stained shirt from the floor.

“Put something on, christ.” His voice gruff as he shrugged his jacket off and reached for another t-shirt after wearily tossing the other back to the floor, holding it out. “What, Me?” Black-painted eyes narrowed at you upon holding his child out to him, asking for a trade.

“No. The other person in the room.” You deadpanned, widening your eyes in silent effort for him to take her. “Yes, you.” He did as told, looking down at his daughter blankly. “What’s the rush anyway.”

Although, your question was answered by a loud echo of laughs from downstairs. “All of them?” In reference to the only three men it could be.

“I didn’t agree.” He met your eyes, holding the baby back out to you for the brief second you passed him. Sauntering out to the hallway before he had called your name stiffly, eyes pleading relief of the absolute fucking threat that was his baby. “Take her.”

“You’re fine.” You waved a hand, walking downstairs with him reluctantly following.

It was a shame really, you couldn’t help but snort at the way he held her so high up his chest. “Don’t let Johnny hog her.” Was the only instruction you gave, wandering through to the kitchen where his unit were stood.

“Alright?” The Scot rubbed your shoulder in greeting, “Solid birth n’ all that?” His brows furrowed in genuine care although the question was worded oddly.

“Solid. Johnny.”

He tsked, clutching a hand to his opposite bicep. “Tends to be like that, ae.”

“Speaking from experience?”

He laughed although his eyes fell from yours to over your shoulder. Price held his hand on your back in acknowledgment, his eyes softening with a nod your way. “Christ.” He muttered at the sight in Simon’s arms, taking his hand back and removing his hat. “Congratulations.”

Gaz wrapped an arm around you, leaning his head atop of yours on his shoulder. “It’s mad.” He said more to himself than anyone else, catching eyes with Soap who for once was lost on what to say.

Simon’s eyes were stuck on the baby in his arms, refusing to look up and see the group reaction. Her small hand reached upward, and his finger met her halfway, face unchanged as she wrapped her hand around it. No one said or did anything, only Price who took a step forward to pat the lieutenant's shoulder. The moment was tender, and understood by everyone as such a thing even by Johnny who crossed his arms over his chest and contrastingly pout his bottom lip out to you. “You wanna hold her?” You spoke to him, crossing the space to Simon who had finally looked up. 

“Go on, then.” He pushed his jacket off, hanging it on the back of the kitchen chair. Simon’s eyes met Soap’s, a look of trust, threat and relief spread across his face when you had prompted him to hand her over. “Just a wee thing, ae?” He comfortably took her from Ghost, gently bouncing her and smiling when she had cooed.

“Tiny.” Gaz added, looking to Simon who shifted in his spot - looking around the room, finding comfort in anything other than the tiny being. He was still so unsure of himself. Arms crossed together over his chest in anxious replacement of the tac vest he would usually slot his thumbs into. “Fresh to the world.” 

“Five weeks old.” You looked at Gaz. “Brand. New.”

He shook his head at the idea of a baby, looking to Price who was subtly enough fixated on his lieutenant. “How’re you doing, Simon?” He asked firmly, in a tone Simon wouldn’t ignore or sigh at, one he recognised as important. A tone of order.

“Fine.” He kept it brief, locking eyes with Price who nodded slowly. 

It was hard to read Simon. Period. Even after years being with him, you still couldn’t predict the way he was feeling or what he was going to say about a situation. He distanced himself from his daughter the first few days, intentionally waiting until you woke to sort her out instead of facing himself and his past in the form of the harmless baby.

His allowed paternity leave wasn’t granted extension of more than a week, therefore he left you. And admittedly, although he wouldn’t ever say it, he was glad to get some time away. It had only been a week and he was already itching to be alone, no words you spoke could comfort him. Only the mindless living of a deployment. His desired remedy. 

Ghost was dead silent that whole mission. The unit knew why, although they were tightly instructed by Price to keep their mouths shut. Not to even ask about the kid. So they didn’t, not until today, when it was brought up by the man himself. “Ask about the kid, then.” He said gruffly, unlacing his boots and stomping his feet wide of each other, eyes darting between the three men opposite him.

“She alright, yeah?” Soap asked, receiving a dull nod. 

“We’d love to meet her sometime.” Price continued cautiously, looking to Simon who then nodded, eyes dropping to his boots. There was a moment of silence before he had spoken up in answer to Price, elbows rest on his knees, hands clasped together and rubbing against his mouth. “You don’t live too far from base do you?”

“An hour.” He cleared his throat, “I live an hour away.” 

“We could stop by,” Price was the one to suggest it, dipping to reach a bag behind Soap’s drawer. “This is, from, us.” He rubbed the back of his neck, holding the small gift bag out to Ghost who only looked up at it. 

“I’m going home tonight.” He said matter of factly. “Just.” A sigh. “Tail me and hand it in to her, she’ll appreciate it better than I will.” Soap smirked at Simon’s falsified reluctance, a hidden invite into his lieutenant's domestic life was on the table and of course he jumped at it. 

And you? You knew Simon had given a skeleton of an invite. It was obvious. 

So now, as your daughter had been passed to Price from Gaz, it felt oddly comforting to you. For Simon, you couldn’t tell as much from the way he was constantly sighing and moving in his spot - obviously discomforted by the idea of his unit being in such an intimate space of his but it was blown over by the end of the short visit. “She’s going to be tall.” Price tilted his head at the baby, thumb swiping across her small arm.

“Oh aye.” Johnny nodded, nudging Simon who stared down at her. “Think she’ll have your eyes?” His efforts granted a shrug from the man next to him.

“The colour keeps changing, but,” You caressed her head in Price’s arms, “They are his shape.” The tone of your voice warming Simon enough for the thought of a smile, the side of his lip curling just enough. 

Gaz nodded to a bag Soap had left on the counter, “There’s some stuff. We didn’t get much time.” He reached for it, holding it out to you. The purpose of the trip.

“And there’s a card with some money.” Johnny added, “See yous’ round the New Year for the wee yin.” The bag had generic baby gifts inside, although it swelled your heart to think of three large military men shopping around for each thing inside

And the card was a treasure in itself, one you would certainly keep, handing it to Simon so you could hug Gaz and Soap, receiving a kiss to your cheek from Price after taking the baby back. “Maybe see you lot closer to Christmas?” You asked, bouncing your daughter when she had begun to stir.

“Course.” Price nodded to Simon, following the other two out the door. You heard them talking about the baby from the threshold, watching as they piled into their respective cars and pulled off with waves and a single salute from Soap. Because, Soap.

Simon sighed once the door was shut, looking down at you. There was something between warmth and sympathy in his eyes, wrapping an arm around the back of your neck and kissing your temple. “You putting this up?” He mumbled, holding out the card before pressing his thumb and pointer finger together against his daughter’s tiny feet in sudden affection. 

“On the mantel for now, probably.” You rubbed his arm, following him through to the living room. 

There was new lightheartedness around him after they had left. Like having his unit meeting his daughter was somehow a weight that had finally been shrugged off after the fact. Even prodding a few more kisses than you would usually receive from him. His brain worked in mysterious ways, although you were not complaining. 

Not now anyway.

simon 'ghost' riley taglist: @vamppxncess @freakonfilm @crowbird @misshoneypaper @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @abbugadu @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @mistydeyes @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkjoequinn @gressseyy

[creepy-friday]

PLS PLS PLS I NEED MORE PROXY THINGS I KEEP REREADING THE OLD ONES AND U WRITE SO WELL

Sure thing!I noticed a lot of people are rereading the old ones so I promise I will come back with more ideas!

Female!Proxy toughts Headcanons for every creep of the mansion

Warnings: foul language, suggestive themes, violence

Masky thinks he should've been in your place.He wants your attention but at the same time hates your guts.Always wants to pick a fight with you,maybe he's in such a contradiction with himself because your personality softened his sharp edges making him confused.

Hoodie acts all buddy-buddy with you when the two of you aren't on duty.He doesn't hide the way the tension rises from other people's perspective when he talks to you.He's simply curious about who you truly are,an individual like you in such a fucked up place and in such a high position is..intriguing to say at least.

Toby follows your orders and values your presence the most out of the other proxies he's biased. Because he's been taken advantage of many times,your humanity sparked his hope,he thinks that in you he can actually find something heart warming in this hell hole.

Cody is a little annoying at times.Since you didn't shove him off he deeply thinks you're into him,that's why he keeps on inviting you to see the dangerous shit he's creating.

Kate uses every chance she has to imply that you have sexual relationships with the proxies.She's isn't jealous nor wants to take your place,she simply sees herself as slightly superior since she's been here before you.

Jeff has personal issues with every resident near him,including you.He doesn't think of himself as highly as Masky tough.All the mocking and tantrums are because he doesn't belive your good intentions.

Ben is a fucking menace and fucks with your head since he knows you can't physically hurt him.He thinks you're by far the most interesting creep to watch.

EJ respects you.He thinks that you are disgusted by him almost as he is of himself given your role as a demon hunter.His insecurity made him give up any reason to try to talk to you.Watching from afar he knows you're one of the few residents that are still human by heart.

Liu has a very high opinion about yourself.You already proved to be a good person to him when you took EJ's side in an argument with Masky.He would make conversation with you whenever you two are around.

Sully might act like Liu around you so that he can see more of you.Just like other creeps,he fantasies about having a hand to hand spare with you.He talks to you like you're a pice of meat sometimes but he acknowledges your strength.

Slenderman's presence is being known by his general sickness to the other creeps but the fever is high and tormenting when it comes to you.It's clear that he favors you and the fact that he chose you as his watchdog is enough to bring your confidence skyrocket.

Jane watches you from afar.She thinks you're a good fit to be a leader.Surprisingly,she agreed with your every decision and never had anything to add or to take.

Zero is jealous of you and your high status.She despises your guts and would team up with anyone to put you down or to shame you.She's a bitch but I bet she would fuck you tough.She's the "do I want to be her or be with her?"

Clockwork likes how a woman is top shit and she treats you as an equal.Might ask you for your opinion and expects you to listen to hers as well.She thinks you're a good leader.

Nina adores you.You genuinely had a good impact on her mental health and looks up to you.She would be shocked if you would hurt her in any way,after everything she went trough all she needs is a friend.The choice is yours.

Sally thinks that you are really cool and wishes you would take that mask off more often.Since you don't brush her off like the others she's looking forward to talk to you when you're not busy.Confidently slips tea parties invites down your door.

Bloody Painter is mostly indifferent to the power dynamics in the mansion.Sure,he will be respectful to you since that's in his personality but he's apathetic to anything that isn't "aesthetically pleasing".He judges a book by its cover and the ghoul-like design on your mask makes him believe you're no different from the creatures you encounter in the forest.Misunderstanding at its best

[predestinatos]

we so lowkey - OP81

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader (x tiny bit of charles at the beginning)

summary: "the game is called truth or dare for a reason" | 5k words. warnings underneath. MINORS DNI.

tags: smut, sort of stoner!oscar, jealous charles to drive the plot, college student reader, dirty talking.

warnings: drugs (weed), cigarettes, (consensual) unprotected sex, backshots, a lot of dirty talking, oral (male and female receiving), double orgasm.

notes: sorry for the delay, i have been on a writing slump (ignore the fact that this is 5k words long...) and trying to enjoy my last days with my bf before he leaves on erasmus!! but i hope you guys like this one. lmk your thoughts and thank u for ur patience always!

"I am not getting drunk today" you said, putting your foot down. "I can take tipsy, but not drunk" your friend laughed at your comment but nodded in agreement, both of you acknowledging the fact that you had to calm yourselves down now that exams season approached. "It's just a small get together either way" your friend replied, shrugging. your clothes scattered across your clean room, an off-putting contrast you couldn't avoid. "You know a 'small get together' usually means at least 30 people" you applied lipstick in front of your closet mirror as you observed your friend through it. "He's here" your friend whispered as you entered the living room of the dorm room heavily decorated with alcohol and LED lights. She needn't say who she was referring to, for the name sounded forbidden yet that's what made it so enticing. grabbing yourself a drink and glancing around the room, you realized it really was a rather small group. it seemed comprised of around 20 people, the girl to boy ratio very balanced. if you didn't know better, you'd say this was planned. the first sip of alcohol touched your tongue and you swallowed happily, moving slowly to the rhythm of the music along with your friend. "Will you hate me if i leave you for a second?" she asked, lips close to your ear in nervous secrecy. you merely looked at her brown doe eyes and smiled, the best answer you could give her. You were both in college for more than grades - you were there for the full experience. the regrets, the bodies, the hands, the flirting, the waking up with a headache - it was all part of this phenomenal journey that lasted around 3 years, and you'd enjoy every single one of them. so as she left to go talk to someone, you knew you'd be fine. Of course you would, because as if he was waiting, Charles approached you, all strong perfume smell and smug attitude approaching you. "Didn't know you were coming" his eyes look down at you as he remains close but without touching you, daring you to make the first move. "Me neither, or I wouldn't have come" you spat, eyes shotting up at his, expression unchanging and unaffected, almost please with the reply. cocking his head to the side he brought his hand to your chin, stroking it softly yet teasingly. "You were never good at that when it comes to me" he said, clinking his plastic cup against yours, mocking you in a frustrating yet attractive way. you we're supposed to be having fun, fucking around and getting to know how other bodies fit in your bed, yet for the entirety of this year Charles Leclerc had been the one fulfilling that duty. It frustrated you, how you were so addicted to how he felt and made you feel, how the two of you had more than chemistry, creating friction during lectures and letting it all out during the night.

You weren’t exclusive, nor did you discuss feelings – something the both of you appreciated, since this back and forth between you two was pleasurable enough and it had absolutely zero strings attached. Breathing in deeply, you decided to simply strike him back the way you two enjoyed “what can I say, I’m a good actress.”

He exhaled through his nose with a smile that recognized your humor and your momentary win, a ‘touché’ leaving his lips in perfect French, attractive enough to make you take another sip of your drink in order to focus on something else.

Minutes pass with the music blasting and you and Charles going back and forth between dancing and teasing each other, your mutual attraction clear to everyone around. Yet, after a while, the volume lowered as someone announce “truth or dare! Everyone gather in a circle on the floor please!”

Everyone complied – easily so, given the fact that there weren’t that many people in the room, making it extra personal and giving everyone a chance to talk and meet each other, something you didn’t particularly do. After around 2 minutes, everyone sat enthusiastically, talking to each other with slightly lightheaded giddiness that only came after the right amount of drinks. To your left sat your best friend, side eyeing you disapprovingly at the person to your right – Charles. “Way to meet new people” she said, ironically. Pretending to be mad wasn’t her forte, as she laughed slightly at your predictableness and you shrugged, “c’est la vie!”  “And now you’re speak French?”

The host – a beautiful girl with the most amazing curly hair and prettiest eyes you’d ever seen, sat down and clapped her hands, an “alright!” coming out of her exhale. “We will spin this bottle twice: first chooses truth or dare, second gives the truth or dare. Be interesting, please!” she explained, causing everyone to laugh excitedly.

The bottle spun, landing on a boy who you were sure had had a thing for your friend for the longest time. “Dare” he decided as the bottle spun once again, landing on Charles. “I dare you to text ‘I miss you’ to the 6th person in your contacts” he said smuggishly. Everyone ‘oooh’ed as the boy grabbed his phone and searched for said contact. “Fuck-“ he exhaled, frustrated, “it’s my ex.” Charles merely laughed as he said “those are the rules!” nonchalantly placing a hand on your upper thigh without even a glance. Before you could ask, the boy’s voice exclaimed “done!” as he showcased his screen to everyone in a circle, the hand on your thigh disappearing as fast as it arrived.

A couple of rounds went by, you asking one person about their shittiest sexual experience and more drinks being poured as people kissed each other after being dared to, when, around the 9th time, the bottle landed on the dark brown eyed boy you and your friend always found adorable. His name was Oscar, and he usually kept to himself, coming to these get togethers and hanging out with his own friends shyly, occasionally smoking but never getting too drunk or too high. “Truth” he said, his voice deep and sweet like a caress, contrasting with the way he fidgeted nervously in his seat. For the second time, the bottle landed on Charles, who rubbed is hand in a mockingly villainous way. “Oscar… Who in this circle have you had fantasies about?”

Oscar instantaneously blushes, hand running through his hair nervously with a shy smile across his face, revealing an adorable set of teeth that made you smile as well. “Fuck’s sake…” he exhaled softly, before downing his drink quickly in order to provide him with some confidence to reply. “I’m gonna regret this” he repeats, everyone jokingly complaining about the suspense he was creating. “I’m sorry in advance, Charles” he exclaims, before his arm lifts towards you and your eyes cross. Still bushing but with a darker expression, almost as if reviewing some thoughts he had, his gaze pierced yours making you feel as if he could show you his own thoughts. Everyone ‘oooo’ed once again, clapping and drinking, despite Charles’ body tensing slightly as he said “sorry for what?”

Oscar merely shrugged, “for anything”, an apologetic smile showing up, one you couldn’t ignore.

The game lasted only a few more rounds until the small crowd distracted themselves with each other, getting up to get more drinks and not returning due to slightly drunk forgetfulness. However, even that small amount of time was enough to feel the palpable tension whenever Oscar’s eyes crossed yours, a quick glance away and joke throwing making you almost believe like you had imagined everything. His nonchalant persona combined with the knowledge that he had thought of you in other contexts drew you in, the same way your instant shyness and inability to look away only intensified his desires.

The boy next to you, however, was tenser than you had ever seen him, despite his great attempts at hiding it. Even before you could confront him about it, Charles’ excused himself, claiming that he had an exam first thing in the morning. Eyebrows furrowed, you knew that wasn’t true, but he merely kissed your cheek goodbye and closed the door behind you.

You were frustrated. In more ways than one, your body still very much coherent to take things lightly and carefree. Your leg shook up and down nervously as your best friend sat next to you in a couch, talking to an attractive girl she had her eyes on for a while. Tapping her shoulder lightly, you motioned the ‘gonna smoke’ sign with your hands, to which she smiled in recognition.

Opening the closest window to the balcony that oversaw the city, cold air hitting your lungs, you let your back hit the wall and let out a much needed breath. Grabbing a cigarette, you placed it between your lips as you searched for your lighter, the closeness of the relief imminent in your veins. The technicolor lights shone bright, cars moving like fireflies dancing to the rhythm of the song.

It was white noise that calmed you, the muffled sound of the music restarting in the house as you took more drags of your cigarette. You were so immersed in the sheer act, as if it was a meditation technique, that you barely noticed the light brown haired boy opening and closing the window, placing himself next to you, with a respectable distance between your bodies.

“Have some light?” he asked, and you jumped at the sound of his voice, the realization he was there. You nodded and handed him your lighter, and he thanked you as he lit up a perfectly wrapped blunt. “Sorry, by the way” he exhaled, along with the smoke that got out of his mouth, eyes roaming through the landscape in front.

“No problem, I get startled easily” you replied, admiring his side profile. His features were both hard and soft, eyes shining brightly in such a relaxed expression it mesmerized you, the way he let out a soft chuckle at your response. “I’m not apologizing for that,” he started, filling his lungs once again. “I’m apologizing for earlier.”

This time, he turned his head towards you, and you noticed his flushed cheeks, slight embarrassment still showing even as his body and mind relaxed. “For saying you fantasize about me or for saying sorry to Charles?” you asked, daringly. It had offended you, hurt you, even, that he had apologized to Charles as if the guy owned you, as if that answer needed to pass some sort of approval from him before becoming valid.

Oscar merely shrugged, “both, I suppose.” His eyes seemed a bit sleepier already as they rather shamelessly roamed your body, followed by his head resting against the wall as he looked up. You felt the tension, electrifying both your bodies already, shivers invading your body – maybe from the cold, maybe from the sheer presence of his indifferent frame.

“Was it true?” the question hung the air for a few seconds after it left your lips, your cigarette now almost over. “Depends on if you want it to be true or not,” a dazed giggle mixed between his words.

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t” you crossed your arms in front of your chest after putting out your cigarette in the ashtray next to the balcony. His gaze turned to yours, lowering towards your chest before moving back to your eyes. “The game is called truth or dare for a reason” he answered, leaning sideways against the wall so he could look at you fully.

You rolled your eyes at his sarcasm, though you couldn’t deny how attracted you were to how he played out this nonchalant persona, the indifference contrasting with his words making your body burn.

 “And that,” he started, the hand holding the blunt pointing towards you, in a upwards and downwards movement. “That’s exactly why I have them.” Confusion invaded your mind as you failed to understand what his words meant, although his brown eyes remained on you as if revisiting every thought he ever had. “What?”

“You’re a tease without even realizing it,” he started, closing the distance between you a bit more, eyes glued to your lips as if fighting the urge to kiss you. “Describe them for me” you whispered, using your closeness to your advantage.

“How about I show you?” he whispered back, breath hot against your ear as his index finger ran along the exposed skin of your neck. Though you tensed, feeling your entire body respond to his suggestion, mouth watering, you wanted to play a bit more.

“What about ‘sorry, Charles’?” you mouthed, irony laced all over your smirk as you looked up at him lustfully. Oscar’s gaze scans the inside of the apartment quickly, more figuratively than literally, before turning back to you. “I don’t see him here now, do you?”

His index finger brushed your chin, forcing your gaze towards yours once more. “If I were him I would’ve made sure you only craved me.”

“How?” your voice was hoarse and breathy, your thighs slowly clenching at the need for touch. “Let’s just say my name would be the only thing you’d be able to utter.”

Your eyebrows raised and your breath got stuck in your throat as his lips brushed against you. You felt almost embarrassed at the effect his words and demeanor had on you, requiring little to no touch to get a reaction out of your entire body. This was not the Oscar Piastri you knew from a couple of shared classes, who sat at the back and always left first, who remained in his own zone at parties, interacting with a couple of closest friends. The fact that he was showing a more daring, direct and sexual attitude towards you felt like a compliment, exclusivity being silently attributed to you.

“Didn’t take you for such a fuckboy” you commented, almost as if making sure that this wasn’t actual his usual move, something everybody knew but didn’t talk about, a party trick he commonly used. He chuckled slightly, so close to you that you could see his throat bobbing up and down in though and feel his scent – some very light perfume that faded slightly due to the smell of the joint he was now finishing. “And I’m not,” he smiled, “I just know what I want. And I’ve been wanting you for so fucking long…” he trailed off, his eyes scanning every inch of you with lust, dropping to your lips for a few seconds longer than anywhere else, before returning to your eyes.

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours, ravenous and hungry for you. Your hands were on his soft hair, tugging it ever so slightly as his tongue teased yours and his breathing increased. Gripping your waist, Oscar pinned you against the balcony wall, the people on the other side of it disappearing from both of your minds as soon as you touched. His kissed matched him so well – so careless yet not aggressive nor bad, just confident and slow paced, as if possessing all the time in the world to enjoy every part of you. You couldn’t help but moan at the novelty of it, how different he was, how his touch left your body burning with freezing need for more.

His lips curved into a smile upon hearing you, an aroused gleefulness displayed in between kisses, fueling an ever growing necessity inside both of you. One of his hands rose to your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek sweetly, that touch so opposite from his grip that claimed you as his for a moment.

As soon as that moment came, it went away, his face distancing from yours, one of his hands attempting to fix the mess you had made of his hair. “I need you so bad right now” he whispered, cursing to himself at the loss of composure he ensured he had built. You merely stared at his disheveled look, frustrated desire written across his body as his brown eyes seemed to darken as time went by. You did not dare to speak, afraid no words would come out, brain foggy from sharing the absolute same wish as his: to continue what you started, to finish it completely.

“My dorm room is literally right above this one” he said after a few seconds, steading his breath in order to seem calmer, more relaxed and casual about the clear tension between you. You knew what he meant and knew he wouldn’t be elaborating any further. Knew he would simply go to his room and wait, watching tv as if you showing up – or not – wouldn’t influence much of his night. Like whatever was happening wasn’t happening, like he didn’t just say he needed you.

You replied with a nod as he opened the door and climbed inside, knowing that when you entered that kitchen he wouldn’t be there anymore. You waited a few more minutes, smoking another cigarette as you considered your options, tried to clear your head and think rationally, yet it was hard as every part of your body ached for more of him, your legs weak just from the kiss you shared on the balcony. Finishig your smoke, you climbed inside the kitchen, where people remained unaware of what happened outside, as if you belonged to two different channels that now intertwined.

You searched for your best friend, wanting to let her know where you were going, reassuring that she needn’t worry but that you’d be just one floor above in case she needed something. Finding her was harder than you thought, minutes passing with you growing more nervous at the prospect of Oscar having given up on you, thinking you had done the same with him. Had he more options? Was he this open with every woman he found attractive? These thoughts clouded your mind as your eyes crossed with your best friend’s and she ran towards you. Tipsy, but not drunk. Good. You both filled each other in on what you had missed during the short time you weren’t next to each other, promising to be close if any of you were in need. Her good luck wink gave you all the approval you needed to leave that dorm room and head towards the upper floor.

The floor vibrated with the music underneath – Oscar wasn’t lying when he said it his room was right above – every beat pulsating with energy that matched your own beating heart. Your nervous hands knocked on the door, your mind too aware of your stance, wondering what would be considered normal in a situation like this. But all those thoughts evaporated your mind as the door opened and you were greeted with the mesmerizing view of the boy you had just made out with.

His hair was slightly damp, indicating that he had taken a shower, or was in the middle of one, as you noticed some droplets running across his smooth skin and a towel lazily wrapped around his hips. You felt hypnotized by his slight smirk and unpreoccupied appearance as he step aside to let you in. “Was starting to think you wouldn’t come” he commented as he pointed towards the sofa in the middle of the apartment, sitting casually next to you. “Hence the look” he continued, giggling slightly.

You were too aware of how naked he was and how little he seemed to care about it. He kept a comfortable distance between you, as if allowing you to stand up and leave were you to change your mind. But that wasn’t even an option to you as his eyes landed on your lips, lingering in there before he gently shook his head and looked up at the ceiling. “God, you have me wrapped around your finger” his tone was half joke, half truth, as if he couldn’t believe it himself, how you seemed to so effortlessly produce such an effect on him.

“Well, I was promised something” you shrugged teasingly, your confidence growing as you realized how much he craved you, how this was something he actually wanted for a while. With your comment, his eyes shot back to you, and his body quickly followed, hovering above yours, droplets of water falling delicately on your face as he looked down at you, hands placed on each side of your head. You couldn’t help but bite your lip hungrily, crossing your legs tightly trying to relieve some of the need you were feeling.

Oscar’s eyes remained on your face as he stopped your legs with his own. “No” he whispered with assertion. “You want me to show you want I imagine doing to you, then you’ll have to play your part and look pretty while at it.”

You were shocked at his words and actions and how they affected you, making it so the only thing you could do in response was nod. Your eyes wanted to wander to where the towel threatened to unwrap himself, but Oscar’s soft finger lifted your chin towards him. “Eyes on me” despite it being a command, his voice indicated anything but that. It was calm and reassuring, confident but not cocky.

His thumb grazed across your lower lip, fondling it gently before opening your mouth subtly. He inserted his index and middle finger inside your mouth, pushing smoothly against your tongue. You took it upon yourself to wrap your lips around them, sucking on them, your tongue playing with his skin as you maintained eye contact. “Fuck” he cursed, muscles trembling from trying to keep his position and composure.

After some seconds, he removed his fingers from your mouth, replacing them with his own lips, hungrily possessing you. As he did this, causing your brain to go lightheaded and register little to nothing at all apart from his touch and tongue caressing you, his hand slid down your exposed stomach to the inside of your jeans. Your arms were around his neck, trying to pull him closer despite the impossibility of it – but you needed more. More of him, of his touch and of his body on yours.

His finger caressed your clit softly, satisfying your needs in part, but simultaneously leaving you more frustrated. You couldn’t help but whimper, trying to grind against his teasing hand, hips moving almost instinctively, which caused a sensuous chuckle to leaving his lips. “You sound even better than what I imagined,” his finger dipped lowered towards your entrance, teasing it, playing with your own desperate hunger. “And you’re wetter, too.”

You moaned at his words, and despair invaded your brain, your hands rushing to unbutton your pants and giving Oscar all the liberty of movement, a silent plea for the feeling of him inside you. Your walls clenched around nothing when he pulled your top up, revealing your exposed breasts. His eyes lingered on them as he tasted you, placing his fingers in his mouth while his other hand removed the towel from around his waist.

Finally, you thought, throwing your own jeans on the floor, red lace panties covering little to nothing of the lower half of your body.

His erection sprang free as he dropped the towel as well, the tip glistening with pre cum, its entire length throbbing. His hand wrapped around it as he took the entire sight of you in, eyelids revealing a drunken thrill as his breath became more irregular.

“I thought about this so many fucking times” he started, not with longing but with a primal urge to have you, a matter-of-fact tone in his voice that caused your whole body to erupt in need. “Come here”

Oscar positioned himself on his knees at the edge of the couch, continuously stoking himself as you moved towards him on all fours, not daring to look away from the sheer sight of him. Pulling your hair, he directed your face towards his erection, pressing it against your lips. You opened your mouth and enveloped him slowly, savoring the salty taste of him as your tongue explored his length. Each one of your caresses made him groan and sigh in pleasure, your head bobbing up and down underneath him.

The sight of you was beautifully overwhelming to him, especially as you started grinding your hips against nothing at all. “Fuck, if I knew you wanted it this bad I would… I would’ve done this earlier” he struggled to say, mesmerized at how your eyes looked up at him, ecstasy-filled.

You moaned against his cock, vibrations traveling throughout his body as he jerked his hips up, deeper into you, more than what you thought possible. You teared up with the suddenness of it, though it made you dizzy with pleasure.

That pleasure was short-ended as his hand pulled your hair softly, an indication for you to stop. As he removed himself from inside your mouth, a string of saliva connected you both, your lips now swollen and red, shiny with spit.

Oscar lowered himself in order to kiss you while laying you on the sofa once again, his mouth leaving wet marks all over your body until it reached the area underneath your bellybutton. He blew softly on your skin, and goosebumps invaded your body as he pulled your underwear down and off of you, hands now placed around your thighs, opening them with fervor. Before you could register the coldness hitting your now exposed skin, his face buried in between your legs, licking you softly as his damp hair touched the skin on your thighs.

The warmth of his mouth contrasted with his still-wet hair, your mind clouded by wanting to wrap your legs around him and the instinct to pull away from the cold. He grinned against your wet pussy before sucking your clit, your hands flying towards his hair, pushing him against you.

“So needy…” he whispered, readjusting himself so he could bury two fingers into you and keep his attention on your clit, devouring you. His tongue sent your body into frenzied shivers, his name escaping your lips incoherently. His fingers intensified their pace, sliding in and out of you and curling inside you. “Fuck, you taste so good” he mumbled, “and my name sounds so good when you whimper it” he now looked at you intently, analyzing your pleasure with so much attention it almost made you blush – were your cheeks not red due to the heat of the desire. It was all so much, so much you couldn’t focus on it all, your body erupting into an orgasm, walls pulsating around his fingers, his gaze adoring your body and all of its movements.

Your chest rose and fell almost as fast as your heart beat, and you giggled, actually giggled, from how lightheaded you felt. “I need to see and hear that again” he stared, more than asked you, although he remained in place, only his hand slowly pulling out from inside you, covered in your juices. He wasted no time in wrapping it around his own erection, now even more visibly hungry for something – someone. You.

“Please” he pleaded, suddenly looking so greedy, so needy and desperate. For some reason, this reignited the desire within you, and although your body was still recovering from the intoxicating orgasm, you were ready to do it all again.

“Do I keep going in your fantasy?” you asked, voice hoarse and breathy. His eyes widened slightly, the pace of his movement as he worked himself up increased as he nodded. “Then why are you asking me?” you told him, the fact that you consented implicit in your tone, your legs spreading apart for him to gawk at.

He barely needed two seconds before positioning himself between your legs once again, the tip of his cock rubbing against your entrance. “You’re soaking” he tried saying, stumbling across some vowels due to his own excitement. “I don’t know if I can last much” he slowly entered you, savoring as every inch buried deeper inside you, “you drive me fucking crazy.”

Your eyes rolled the back of your head at how he filled you up, at his praise as he did so, at how good he sounded when incoherence and pleasure laced his words. His hips moved, at first in a slow, consistent, pace, which quickly changed after some seconds, along with his breathing.

His eyebrows furrowed as your nails dug into his back, the sudden pain feeling so thrilling when mixed with the pleasure of being inside you. “Turn around” he said, pulling himself out of you for less than a second, giving you only time to lay on your stomach with your ass in the air.

That position allowed for him to go even deeper inside you, to hear you scream in pleasure as your own hand touched your clit in desperate need for more release. “You like that?” he asked in between breaths, knowing he could barely hold it any longer.

You tried saying the word ‘yes’ but even that failed you, your vision cloudy and your head foggy as you felt him close to release. His moans increased in loudness and intensity, your name being one of the few coherent things he could say before pulling himself out of you and orgasming, his cum spread across your back.

You couldn’t do anything but succumb to your own pleasure erratically, the simultaneous nature of your orgasms driving you into your own craziness.

Your body collapsed on the couch as his pressed tightly against you, both of you trying to gather your thoughts. Lying on his back, his head now looking at the ceiling, Oscar turned to you softly. “Want to sleep over?”

Your plan was not going to work.

[abrunettefangirlnerd]

Panic

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Prompt: Rafe has been clean for months but a call from your boyfriend has you both worried he will relapse.

Warning: Mention of drugs, anger, negative self-talk, Ward

The trees pass me in a blur as I speed down the road to the Cameron’s estate. Rafe’s choked up voice plays on repeat in my ear and I pray I get there in time. His dad is showing once again that Sarah is the preferred child and that no matter what Rafe does that will never change. All that boy wants is to make his father proud and he can’t get so much of a “good job” from him. Nothing else can make my blood boil faster than that man’s negligence toward his only son.

               Rafe called and I could tell that something was wrong immediately. His voice was strained, showing that it is taking all his effort to not break. It didn’t take long for it to. Rafe could never keep anything from me, like the fact he’s worried about relapsing right now. Him being upset is more than enough to have me coming over, but my urgency is from the possibility of him falling to cocaine. I need to get there before he gives up the fight and heads over the Barry’s. He has been 6 months clean, and neither of us want him to throw it away.

               My car barely stops before I grab the key and race inside. I don’t mind the weird glances from Rose and Ward in the kitchen. A little extra furry races through my veins before being replaced once again with concern. If I had more time, and wasn’t warned by Rafe against it, I would be fighting Ward right now in his own home. But my main priority is my boy that is hopefully still upstairs in his bedroom.

               I knock twice but don’t wait for a response before opening the door. My eyes quickly trace each corner of the room before zeroing on him sitting on his bed. His legs hang off the bed and his head is in his hands. Rafe doesn’t move to acknowledge that I am here, he doesn’t move at all.

               I slowly make my way to him, trying my best not to startle him. Getting down on my knees before him I whisper his name and Rafe’s eyes shoot toward mine. They are red and glisining, the surrounding skin swollen due to the salt from is tears. I feel a rip where my heart should be and fight back my own tears at the emotional pain and turmoil he is in. I bring my hand up to the side of his face and softly lean my forehead against his own.

“I’m here,” I whisper not trusting my voice. “I got you.”

               Rafe’s fingers squeeze my hips as he slides to his knees before me. I repeat my words and he begins to aggressively shake his head against mine. I feel him slip away from me. Grabbing his head between my hands I force him to look at me. His eyebrows are scrunched together. Breathing uneven as he momentarily stops to stifle what I assume is a sob. There is a slight quiver of his bottom lip, but his eyes focus on mine and don’t move.

“Rafe baby,” I take a deep breath and calm my nerves. “I can’t imagine what you are feeling. He has no right to treat you the way he does.”

“I’m a fuck up.” His voice cracks.

“You are not a fuck up.” I brush my thumb against his cheek to catch a stray tear. “You are Rafe Cameron. You have a little sister who loves you. Guys that look up to you. There is a whole life in front of you. You’ll make mistakes, and it’s okay. It’s part of it. I do it too. But you are Rafe Cameron. Love of my life. You are not a fuck up.”

               Rafe‘s eyes pierce mine for a moment longer before his body crashes into me. His head presses into my shoulder as that long-suppressed sob emerges. It shakes both of our bodies as we cling onto one another. Rafe wraps the entirety of his arms around me as mine are around his neck. One hand presses between his shoulder blades as my other runs through his hair.

               The clipped sounds exploding from Rafe vibrate to my core and I struggle to fight off my own tears. A few escape and slide down my cheeks as I feel my heart die a little inside. No one deserves this kind of relationship with their father, and least of all Rafe. I think about how early he gets up in the mornings, working all day, getting to know the men, staying after hours to make sure everything is done. All for a man who barely glances in his general direction unless to scrutinize something he has done.

               The rage from before is resurfacing and if it wasn’t for Rafe being in my arms, I would surely give Ward a piece of my mind. I take deep breaths as I turn myself to the situation at hand and focus on Rafe. Slowly his breathing begins to reduce to a more normal pace but his hold on me stays the same. We are in complete silence once his sobbing has subsided. Tears still greet my shoulder occasionally but I think we may be towards the end of it.

“Come on.” I whisper, my voice coarse. I clear my throat softly before speaking again. “Let’s get in bed.”

               Rafe doesn’t say anything but just nods his head as he helps me move. We tear down the comforter in silence and slip in under the covers. I lay on my back while Rafe crawls into a ball, resting his head against my stomach. Immediately, I bring one hand to support his back as the other combs through his hair. Every once in a while I feel a soft moan vibrate against my stomach and a slight smile breaks across my lips. One of Rafes favorite things is head scratches. Every movie night it is inevitable. I love how it keeps him calm.

“I’m sorry.” Rafe sniffles. He is so quiet I almost didn’t hear him. Sorry? Why is he sorry?

“Why are you sorry babe?” Confusion laces my voice and I hope he actually tells me why.

“For making you feel like you had to come. You know… potentially relapsing.” Rafe loops an arm around the front of my waist and softly squeezes. “I’m supposed to be a man, your man. I should be stronger than this.”

Man up, Rafe. You’re going to be man of the house. You have to man up.

               I accidently heard the end of a few disagreements between Ward and Rafe. Most of the time ending with Ward saying something about how Rafe needed to man up, stop being so soft, grow up. While I agreed and understood Ward being pissed when he had to pay off Barry. He shouldn’t have kicked Rafe out, he should have gotten him help. Hung up his pride and helped his son. It shouldn’t have just been me and the guys trying to help him get clean.

“Don’t you ever be sorry. I want you to call me.” I press him in closer to me and I continue to run my fingers through his hair. “It is okay to need someone. Please understand that. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

[skteezcursed]

❝0258❞ — j.yh.

PAIRING. ex!jeong yunho x fem!reader.

GENDER AND WARNINGS.smut. slight toxic behavior. dom!yunho. switch leaning sub!reader. possessiveness. alcohol consumption. yunho is borderline toxic (i apologize). fingering. orgasm denial. creampie. p in v. hair pulling. unprotected sex (please, do NOT). lmk if i forgot anything.

SYNOPSIS. yunho doesn’t like to share, he never did, especially not you. it doesn’t matter you two broke up, you are still his, so when he sees you flirting with other guys in a frat party (that you weren’t the biggest fan of), something builds inside of him and he just needs to make it clear that you belong to him, and him alone.

RATING. R (+18) - MDNI.

WORD COUNT. 4k.

NOTES. english is not my first language. part of the ateezchella especial and of the atz house event you can't out rage us. thanks to @juyofans and @yunhoszn for the costume idea, thanks @bro-atz for the plot idea, thanks coachella for the cowboy yunho with the rings, thanks for his parents for not having used protection or prevented their son from being born, because this man wrecked me completely. bye ♡.

IMPORTANT. this is a work of fiction, it has zero intent on portraying how any of the people quoted here are in real life.

CREDS. dividers by cafekitsune ♡

  He knew he would probably find you here. He knew you liked to party from time to time and how your friends would always lure you into one or another, even when you two were together. And in all honesty, he was okay with that, except for the fact you were at a frat party less than a month after you two broke up. Wearing a fucking chromed dress that barely covers your ass, the metallic make up just making you stand our more and he never hated a futuristic themed party more than he did now.

  As if that wasn’t enough, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you ever since they found you with your friends on the corner, dancing and smiling all the way. His eyes lingering at your outfit, wishing you at least had shorts underneath your dress. Only if he was allowed to touch you, only if he was allowed to see under that dress.

  “Well, this is becoming an embarrassment,” Jongho’s voice quickly found Yunho as he watched the youngest of his frat drown the last of his drink before indicating you on the other side of the room. “Weren’t you the one that broke up?”

  “So?” 

  Yunho tried his best to not make his eyes wander to you, or to acknowledge the amount of guys that were eyeing you, surrounding you, just waiting for an opportunity to -

“So, why do you care so much if another guy comes along? Aren’t they single afterall?”

If Yunho could punch Jongho at that moment we would, but he chose better, just turning the beer down his throat before meeting you again. A group of guys from another frat had gotten closer to your group. Yunho knew them, so maybe he -

  “He’s simping again, isn’t he?” Yunho just scoffed at Yeosang’s remark, feeling Mingi joining the others, a hand draped around Yunho’s shoulder. “If you can’t keep your eyes away from them, why did you break up in the first place?”

“Because (y/n) was saying that a lot of girls were trying to get with him and he wasn’t pushing them away, so -”

“Why would I give them the time of day when I had her? It was like she didn’t trust me, that’s why we broke up!”

“So, that has nothing to do with the fact that you started to notice how guys were always around them and accused them of cheating?” The other boys shook their heads as Yunho bit his inner cheek at Mingi’s remark. “So you didn’t trust her, and decided to break up, but now, you can’t keep your eyes off of them in that pretty little tiny dress that -”

“Mingi,” it was a warning, making the other tall one chuckle, raising his hands with a smirk. “You guys are fucking -”

“Oh, looks like she moved on from you, dude.”

  At that, his head snapped your direction, and he found Juyeon, from TBZ frat rather close with you, his hands on your back and you were fucking smiling at him, your flirty smile, the smile that made Yunho want you pin you down on the closest surface and fuck you senseless just to take that fucking smile off your lips.

  “And off he goes!”

Yunho could still hear all three guys behind him as he took the first steps in your direction. There was no way you’d go with Juyeon, no you were Yunho’s and no one else's, but as he got closer, he noticed one of your friends caught your attention, making you put some distance – which should be bigger – between you and Juyeon. As you turned to say something, your face got closer to his as Yunho noticed how the guy’s arm wrapped around your waist pulling you closer. He had half moons marking his palm as the custom rings Hongjoong had made for him dig into the skin.

  As you pulled away, your eyes met with his, making you stop almost instantly, only moving because your friend pulled you in. In all truth, you didn’t want to come to this party, you didn’t want to leave the house at all, ever since you and Yunho broke up, a lot of things crossed your mind as in the actual reason for that, as he came with a ‘I just think it's best if we go our separate ways, this isn’t working anymore’ and left at that, ignoring your calls and texts, until you gave up after almost a week. 

  If it weren’t for Alexa, you probably weren't even gonna be at the NCT frat party, also, you thought that Yunho would have gone to the BTS frat last night and not show up at this one so you wouldn’t bump into him. As if that wasn’t enough, all you could think about was the face he gave you as Alexa guided you through the bodies of people. He was mad, he was fuming. Was he so annoyed you were there? Did he really hate you that much?

  “Just keep watch okay, I trust the boys, just not every guy in this forsaken party!”

She said as she closed the bathroom door making you touch your head against the wooden door sighing deeply. All you wanted in that moment was to leave that house, curl in bed and cry for everything that happened with Yunho. 

  “Why is my pretty girl sad?” You raised your head finding Haechan getting out of his room, curiously not accompanied by anyone. “Did anyone give you a hard time? Just let me know and me and the boys will -”

  “It’s fine,” you said quick but the sadness was still noticeable in your voice and eyes. “I just want some time alone, I… I just saw Yunho and -”

Haechan’s arms quickly wrapped around your figure as you held back your tears. It has been a month, you should have a grip on your emotions already. You hid your face on Haechan’s chest, apologizing for the amount of makeup that was smearing his shirt, but all he did was kiss you head, temple and cheek while rubbing your bare back, suddenly way more conscious of how open the back was.

“He’s the idiot to let go of you, maybe you should take this party to enjoy, yes?” You nodded slightly, your hand going to the back of his neck, fingers playing with the hair ends. “Mark sent a picture of you with Juyeon from TBZ frat, he’s a good guy, maybe you should try it out with him.”

“Thanks, I might, just need to get a grip,” you said, pulling away from Haechan cupping his face before leaving a small kiss on his cheek. “Go enjoy your party, I have to wait for Alexa to leave the bathroom anyways.”

  “Come meet me later, I can help you find some fun.”

  You chuckle and waved towards Haechan as you watched him go down the stairs, sighing loudly, cursing on your mind at how long Alexa was taking, getting a little worried at that. 

“Guess you moved on quickly, right pretty?” Your whole body became suddenly aware of how close he was, when did he arrive? Why was he here? “So, who is it gonna be? Juyeon or Haechan? Maybe both?”

  “What do you want, Yunho?” 

  “Can’t I ask about your whereabouts?”

“You lost that right when you broke up with me,” you turned to him, half of the reason why your face was flustered was for the alcohol and annoyance, but the other half was by his presence, if he knew that or not, it was still up to be discovered, “don’t you remember?”

“Oh, I remember well enough,” he towered over you, making you take small steps behind until your back was pressed against the bathroom door, the smile on Yunho’s lips when he noticed he got you cornered made you press your thighs together, “but that doesn’t mean I’m okay with others wanting what it’s mine.”

“I’m not yours for a while now.”

“Oh pretty, you’ll always be mine,” you can’t lie to yourself and pretend like you didn’t miss the possessiveness Yunho carried whenever you two were together. “Should I remind you?”

  “I’m not yours anymore, Yunho, you decided that.”

  “What if I decided that I don’t want you to be my ex anymore?”

  “Because you are jealous or because you actually mean it?” That was it, that was the moment you saw his eyes darken, the cover from the cowboy hat only helping with that. Your eyes lingered a little longer on his before falling to his lips, a small smirk appearing once you saw them forming a thin line. “Are you jealous that I might like Juyeon or Haechan more than you?”

  As his hands held you by the waist and hip, your breath hitched, but neither of you reacted to that, your body already telling him enough. The hand that was on your waist trailed towards your bare back and a gasp left your lips as the cool metal of his rings touched your exposed lower back, making him smile at that pulling you closer to him. Your hands quickly find the vest he was wearing, getting tangled with the necklaces. He was too close, his body fitting into yours as if it was made for it to happen. 

  You whined as you felt the sharpness of his ring against your skin, what kinda ring he was wearing you didn’t know, but you for sure didn’t want to see it or else, it was just another thing to occupy the ‘Jeong Yunho Folder’ on our mind. For a moment, you tried to react, but instead of pushing him away, your fingers held the vest tighter, making him chuckle as his face got closer to yours, the hat already touching your head as you could feel his breath mixing with yours. Way more stable than yours could ever be.

  “I think that’s something neither should be worried about, don’t you think, pretty?” Before anyone could answer, both heard the sounds coming from the bathroom, but Yunho was faster, turning both of you away and into Haechan’s room, the door closing the same second Alexa opened the bathroom door. You felt the cold metal of the rings on your lips as Yunho was paying attention to the sound on the other side. “Keep quiet pretty and I’ll reward you later, yeah?”

  You just nodded, feeling the pressing of the rings on your lips, one of the rings touching your throat making you raise your head slightly. Who had the fucked up idea to give Jeong Yunho those freaking ring sets? You cursed, closing your eyes, only to open them, becoming even more aware of your situation. Yunho pressing his body against yours, one of his hand on your waist, as his ringed finger touched your lips, one of his legs in between yours, all this while in Haechan’s fucking room.

  Alexa cursing and searching for you was barely on your mind as all of these were processed. How Yunho’s fingers tighten on your waist and he lowered his head leaving the air he was holding against your neck, making you shiver. A small whimper left your lips as his adorned fingers cupped your jaw pulling you to eye him. There was lust and anger in them, and you knew you shouldn’t crave him, but it was impossible not to when we looked like that, with his intense gaze on you as if nothing else existed, as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't broken up with you.

  “Why you here Yunho?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” The cool metal of the rings made your breath hitch as the tips scratched the back of your head, his thumb going over your lips before his eyes focused back on your own. “I’m here to claim what’s mine.”

  “We broke up and now you are jealous,” although you tried to sound sure, you both noticed your voice break, a small smile appearing on his lips. “I’m not yours anymore, Yuyu.”

  “Do you think they can make you feel like I do? That they know your body? Know what makes you tickle, what makes your cunt dripping wet?” His face bore on your neck and you felt the cowboy hat fall on the floor as you whimpered feeling his wet lips on your skin. “Do you think anyone can compare to us?”

  “Maybe you should have thought of that before you broke up with me, no?”

  “You accused me of cheating when you were the one doing it all along.”

  Your eyes turned to him, so that's why he broke up with you? Because he thought you cheated? “Who the fuck told you that? One of the girls from your dance class?”

  “I’m not blind, (y/n), I saw it with my own eyes how you’d led some of the guys on, with your damn perfect smile and -”

  “It’s called being polite, Yunho!” You tried pushing him, but he held you close, your attempt barely moving him out of place, making you sigh annoyed. “I never cheated on you, you lunatic, I’m fucking in love with you!”

  “Yet, you were out there flirting with Juyeon and Haechan.”

  You scoff, realizing he really was jealous. “So that’s what this is about! You are fucking jealous.”

  “I told you once before, pretty, no one touches what’s mine, and you are mine,” you tried to close your legs only to find Yunho’s thigh in between them, making him chuckle as his hand on your face went to your neck, no pressure, just pure dominance. “Well well well, apparently someone is feeling horny,” his lips brushed against yours as you tried to move your hips against his thigh to alleviate the pressure, only to get his fingers to secure your waist, unabling you to move. “Maybe I should remind you how well I know your body and how no one will ever be able to please you better than me.”

  In a swift move, he pulled your face to his, lips crashing as your hands finally left his vest, only to mess with his hair as the kiss deepened. You felt his hands wander south towards the valley of your thighs, only to hear him hum against your lips once he found the short shorts that you had under your dress. 

  “What?”

  “I’m torn between calling you a good girl for wearing shorts under this fucking dress and to punish you for using it all together.”

  Your breath hitched as his fingers put slight pressure against your clothed core and clit, throwing your head back and arching, trying to give him more room to work on your lower half, receiving a light chuckle from Yunho. “I was using the shorts because I had no intentions on getting with anyone tonight.”

  “Is this you asking me to call you a good girl, pretty?” You melted at his words getting a snarky comment in response. “If you were a good girl, you wouldn’t be here in the first place, now would you? Wouldn’t be dresses like that, wouldn’t be getting other guys attention, or –”

  “Please Yun–argh!” You bit your lip as you felt the pads of his unadorned fingers pressed a little harder against your clit. “Please, I’ll be good, please just touch me, I–I need your fingers, please.” 

  “Now, I need more than that pretty, I’m still not okay with what I saw earlier.”

  “I don’t want them,” your mind haywired for a moment before you could put your thoughts together, remembering how he had seen you with both Juyeon and Haechan earlier. “I want you, Yunho, please I only want you.”

  “That’s better.”

  Nimbly, his hands moved inside your shorts, his cool fingers meeting your heated core and the shock made you shiver a little as you felt his adorned fingers in the back of your head, holding you in place so he could see all the reactions your body had towards him. A satisfied smile danced on his lips as he pulled you in for a kiss before his middle finger entered your wet hole, making you moan against the kiss. In a slow, torturous way, he curled his finger while moving it in and out the best he could, the heel of his hand occasionally pressuring your clit as his lips never got tired of your own. 

  In a swift movement, he added his ring finger inside, curling them while putting pressure on your cit while his other hand put pressure on your neck, forcing your face up to kiss him as your legs were already way too weak to hold you in place, only making Yunho smirk as he started to pump him fingers in and out of you, watching your face twist in pleasure.

  “Who does this cunt belong to?” You couldn’t utter a coherent sound as his fingers nimbly worked their way to help you reach your high. His adorned fingers tighten around your neck making you whimper as your legs start to shake. “To whom does this fucking pussy belong to?”

  “To you,” the cry came as his fingers slowed down inside you enough to help you make a coherent phrase. Knowing Yunho was smirking at your words you manage to open your eyes just enough to find him mere centimeters away from you, the lust in his eyes helping with the build up in your stomach. “This pussy is all yours, Yunho.”

  “That’s it, pretty, now let’s make sure no one forgets it, yes?” You cried as his fingers left your wet folds, being denied the orgasm you so long waited, but as you watched him lick his wet fingers, you could’ve swore you could cum on sight. “Are you gonna be good for me pretty?” You mumble a small ‘yes’ as you watch him guide his fingers towards your mouth. “Suck it, let’s see if this helps you remind how good I make you feel, yeah?”

  As your lips parted, he pushed the two fingers inside, eyes darkening even more as he feels your tongue swirl around it, your lips firmly on the base of his fingers as your eyes never lost contact with his. At that, your hips started to move against his leg in between your thighs, making him chuckle but not stopping you for a second as he observes your wreck yourself using him. To watch you beg and ruin was one of the favorites views he had, so have you do this without him saying, was making him harder in his trousers. 

  His fingers quickly left your mouth as he pulled both yours legs up, making you wrap them around his waist as he guided you to Haechan’s bed. Your friend was totally gonna kill you if he found out, but in that moment, all you wanted was Jeong Fucking Yunho. He dropped you on the bed making you gasp before his hands grab your jaw making you eye him. His unadorned fingers quickly untied his belt and opened his tight pants as you held eye contact with him. Your fingers traveling over your thigh finding your clothed core, you could already feel the wet patch regardless of the panties and shorts that were forming a barrier. 

  “Please, Yuyu,” you begged as he watched your fingers travel to in between your legs.

  “Lose the shorts and panties,” he let go of your jaw and you did as you were told, knees finding the mattress as you finished taking you panties off, being thrown along with Yunho’s pants and vest on the side of the bed. “Now take this useless excuse of a dress,” your arms crossed in front of you, taking the dress away as you watched him unbutton his shirt, watching your naked body in front of you. “So fucking beautiful, so fucking mine.”

  “All yours,” your hands pulled him in for a kiss as the button down shirt met the rest of the pile, the only piece of fabric between you two being the fucking boxers, that you were quick to put your hand through, finding his hard heated leaking cock, making him moon against your lips. “I want your cock, Yun, please, let me have your cock.”

  “All fours, now.”

  As you turned around, he got rid of his boxers, pumping his dick using the pre cum, watching your glistening pussy welcome him. A low groan left his mouth as you wiggled your bottom to him, but instead of getting his cock, a harsh slap found your asscheek making you jolt and moan in pain, the chuckle Yunho gave being the only answer you were gonna have. Behave like a fucking brat, you get treated like a fucking slut. Not that you cared, but in that moment, you wanted his cock, and if you kept acting like that, you knew he wouldn’t dick you down until he got you crying in bed. 

  So, in response, all you did was lower your upper body into the mattress, face turned to the side as one of your hands went up your clit rubbing it eagerly, as he watched your every move. As he felt you had suffered enough, he took two steps towards the bed, his cockheading meeting your wet folds, making your fingers leave your clit as you knew what expected you. In a torturously slow, calculated movement, his cockhead entered you just enough to have you crying for more. 

  As you were about to plea to him again, he buried himself inside of you, holding your hips the same second he felt you jolt forward, holding you in place as he felt you adjust to his size, groaning as he felt you clench around his length while panting face in the bed. The only sign you gave him that it was okay to move, was your hips moving. The chuckle came the same second you felt him pull out almost completely before starting ramming inside of you in a swift motion, hitting your cervix with every single thrust, making you cry a little.

  One of your hands went to find his adorned fingers, as the unadorned ones got a hold of your hair, pulling your head back, as your hand held his adorned fingers in a tight grip. His erratic pace along with his breathing and his cock hitting all the right places, not helping you keep your sanity or a low volume. “Touch yourself for me, pretty, I want you creaming on my cock while I fill you up, can you do that, hun?” 

  Without a second to waste, your available hand reached your bundle of nerve, circle movements quickly taking over as you tried your best to keep a sane mind as you felt Yunho’s deep inside you, saying the filthiest things against your ear as he watched you coming undone with a cocky smirk. It didn’t take you long to come undone with a loud moan as you creamed around Yunho’s dick, as he kept ramming inside of you chasing his own high. 

  “Cum for me, Yuyu, make me yours for life.”

  With that he came inside of you, letting go of your hair, allowing your body to finally hit the mattress, but he kept holding your hips up as he pulled out of you, watching as part of his seed fell out of your hole before pushing it all back with his fingers, making your squirm at the overstimulated area. 

  “Keep it all inside pretty, once we get back to my frat I want to see it all still there if you have plans on going anywhere tomorrow.” You cried as he pulled his fingers away, cleaning them on your ass as he watched you clenched your used pussy, trying to keep all of his cum inside. “That’s my good girl,” he kissed your ass close to your cunt before turning to find all your clothes, quickly picking your panties and putting on your legs, before throwing you short shorts through the room, making you complain before eyeing you carefully. “You are mine, there’s no point in using that thing anymore, no one will get near what's mine and it will make it easier to see if you kept my cum inside of you or not without that piece of fabric you call shorts.”

general masterlist here ♡

network: @cultofdionysusnet ♡ @atzhouse ♡

©skteezcursed (2024) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[noyzinerd]

Derek teaching unknown werewolf societal/cultural facts to Stiles is cute, and I love that for them, truly, but I want to see the reverse.

We're always hearing about when someone (usually Stiles) asks a naive question about werewolves and Derek going "No, you idiot! It doesn't work like that!" As if it's common knowledge that everyone should know, when in reality there's no possible way Stiles (or any average person, for that matter) could know that.

And I'm sure in Derek's world, stuff like silver not actually being effective against werewolves is a no-brainer or spotting a Kitsune is laughably easy, but not to the common bystander.

So, instead, I'd love to see the random, human customs and social norms Stiles would find himself needing to explain to Derek when they start living together. Stuff that the human family members of his pack never displayed because they had been raised surrounded by werewolves their entire lives.

From all the small things like how, when you get a canker sore or lose a filling, you always gotta stick your tongue in it. ("No, we don't want to do it. It hurts like hell, actually. It's just something we do. Don't ask me why. I honestly couldn't tell you. It's the same with picking scabs or pressing down on bruises.")

Or like how you're not supposed to eat the weird, little black nub at the bottom of the banana. ("I don't care if it's composed of the exact same stuff as the rest of the banana, that's so fucking gross 🤢")

Or like how you have to walk around ladders instead of under them ("Because otherwise you'll get bad luck, Derek!")

Or how, for a short time in history, a man wearing a singular earring on his left ear meant that he was gay for some reason. Or was it the right ear? ("Hey, listen, man, I didn't make these dumb rules!")

Or how you can't pick up a penny off the ground unless the face side is heads up ("Yes, it's another 'good luck, bad luck' thing. We actually have a lot of those, now that I think about it.")

Or how if someone far away sees you coming and holds the door open for you, you very specifically have to do a customary tiny wave or acknowledging nod before doing a small little half trot-half jog that isn't too slow or too fast all the way to the door. ("Because you don't want to take up their time, but also you don't want them to think they've inconvenienced you. Yeah, no, I get that they already have, but you don't want THEM to know that.")

All the way up to things like the weird history of Coke Zero, even though Diet Coke is essentially the same thing. ("Oh, now see, that's actually pretty interesting. And by interesting, I mean dumb and terrible. See, in the 80's, Coke only ever marketed Diet Coke as a 'woman's drink', so when they finally decided to expand their demographic, they had to spend millions of dollars to undo their own conditioning because their women's only Diet Coke campaign had been so successful, it took decades for men to stop associating drinking diet soda with being gay or effeminate.")

Just so Derek can finally know what it feels like to be on the other end of "common sense."

[drulalovescas]

I fucking hate when we say Dean would've never given up on that rusty rebar if Cas was alive, he'd keep fighting, and are being called delusional shippers because it's a fact that has NOTHING TO DO WITH SHIPPING!!! You don't have to believe Dean and Cas were madly in love (even tho they were duh) to know Cas had always been Dean's hope and faith. You can LITERALLY SEE IT ONSCREEN throughout those 12 seasons. Every time Dean loses Cas he also completely loses hope and his will to live. Cas was an angel that pulled him out of Hell. That looked him straight in the eye and said you matter, you deserve to be saved. That saw through all his facades, saw the good and the ugly and NEVER judged Dean for the ugly. Dean had such a shitty self-esteem but the sense of "I must be worth at least something if an angel of the Lord bothered to save me from the Pit" must have lingered at the back of his head (even if at times he refused to believe it). So yeah, Dean's it's okay I'm ready to die in that atrocious finale is directly connected to him losing Cas permanently. And seeing and acknowledging that has zero to do with shipping.

[marshymallo]

FIC RECS: 「 stranger things 」

this list is subject to change every time i find new works to add to the collection

「 Nine Facts, One Lie ~ Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader 」

Synopsis: It didn’t matter that your best friend Robin claims he’s changed, you do not like Steve Harrington. He used to be egotistical, a player, an asshole — and you’re not in any hurry to believe he’s changed his ways. Never mind that he seems terribly kind now, compliments here and there, or even that he’ll pick you up from a date gone horribly wrong…

「 You Shook Me All Night Long ~ Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader on AO3 」

WARNING: CONTAINS SMUT 18+, PLUS SIZED!READER, MENTIONS OF BULLYING AND DIET CULTURE, SET PRE-SEASON 3

Synopsis: Steve had never pictured himself ending up here - working for minimum wage at an ice cream shop, wearing a fucking sailor costume. But hey, life catches up to you and plans change. He also never would have guessed that someone who had been sitting quietly in the background of his life for years would secretly be the hottest babe of the century - and in the moment he found that out, he had never been more thankful for ice cream minimum wage slavery and the stupid outfit you seemed to find adorable.

「 Maneater ~ Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader 」

WARNING: CONTAINS SMUT 18+, DOM!READER

Synopsis: “I thought she’d be like mean and shy but not she wasn’t shy at all-she’s like-she’s like a man eater-Definitely an apex predator if I’ve ever seen one. Steve she was looking at you like she wanted to eat you”

「 Tequila & Strawberry Lipgloss ~ Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader x Robin Buckley 」

WARNING: CONTAINS SMUT 18+, ZERO SEXUAL INTERACTIONS BETWEEN STEVE AND ROBIN (FOCUS IS ON READER), PART 1 OF 4 IN THE “DRINKING IN YOUR LIPS” SERIES (OTHER 3 PARTS ATTACHED TO THIS POST)

Synopsis: you’re dating steve and you think robin’s hot.

「 Jealous Steve Watches You Flirt ~ Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader 」

WARNING: HEATED MAKEOUT SESSION

Synopsis: when returning back to the trailer, an unexpected bump in the road causes reader to flirt her way out the situation, leaving a very jealous steve harrington to watch.

「 Code Red ~ Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader 」

WARNING: CONTAINS SMUT 18+

Synopsis: Dustin has the worst timing and stumbles on a secret relationship

「 If The Slipper Fits ~ Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader 」

Synopsis: When one of the leads of the school play gets injured, Robin asks Eddie to fill in. He’s not to keen on the idea at first but when Robin mentions that you are in the play, and he would get to play your romantic interest, he changes his mind. 

「 Stalker in Aisle 5 ~ Eddie Munson x GN!Reader 」

WARNING: BRIEF SEXUAL JOKE

Synopsis: you notice a certain curly-haired nerd frequently visiting your workplace. finally, you decide to acknowledge his stalking.

[firesnap]

Rambling about bad c!Crime takes in 2024.

I think the struggle with being a c!Crime fan during peak DSMP was having to deal with the people who would unironically use "vilbur" like it was a badge of honor and the ones who legitimately thought c!Tommy was 8-years-old at the beginning of L'Manberg.

Like, I don't need to rehash a lot of this. A hundred meta essays were about how Tommy was not responsible for Wilbur's mental health, that he was a front row audience member watching Wilbur's decline and begging people to intercede because he was a damn teenager with zero tools in his kit for "help my brother is frightening me and he's ten feet from me but I think I've lost him in this cave."

But you can still see people go "Ok Tommy helped make Wilbur worse."

No. Just no Tommy's worst behaviors didn't impact Wilbur because Wilbur was so far into his own spiral at that point that it just didn't even phase him if Tommy called him insane. You can't put that on Tommy. When Wilbur came back he even said he could recognize the man he was back then was frightening and beyond what Tommy should have had to see.

But, saying Wilbur acted on violent delusions on Tommy or emotionally abused him or isolated Tommy on purpose... Girl this isn't exile arc and you're not getting c!Crime.

Wilbur and Tommy at their best were moments were like... Tommy with a shield in front of Wilbur, Wilbur with a hand on Tommy's shoulder saying to be better than Wilbur ever was, Tommy and Wilbur running through a small nation and dancing on beaches and laughing at how fucking much the other one sucked with every bit of affection in the world tied behind those words. It was a loop of I'd die for you, I'd die for anything but especially you and Who the fuck ever asked you to die??

At their worst they were a negative feedback loop that fed each other. Tommy was possessive of Wilbur, from even the early L'Manberg days, to the point where Wilbur often neglected other relationships to give Tommy attention. He was angry at Wilbur for falling off the pedestal that Tommy put him on. Wilbur was just as dependent on Tommy being always behind him and took advantage of the fact that Tommy wouldn't leave. He dumped his own fears and paranoia and self-hatred at Tommy's feet and then assumed that this person younger than him could sort through it.

And if you can't handle hearing how they fed the worst parts of each other, then maybe you aren't really here for that dynamic. Maybe you've made something else up in your head that you like more. And that's fine, man. Do whatever the server is gone. Just don't act like your personal version is what canon gave us.

Also, something something it's totally fine to dislike Wilbur's finale btw, but as imperfect as the execution was, it was right on board with what they were telling us about c!Crime from right when Wilbur was revived to Wilbur telling Ranboo that, essentially, Tommy would never leave him and Wilbur knew that wasn't healthy. They needed to break the cycle to save themselves and whatever brotherhood was between them.

They were about acknowledging they were tied to each other in fucked up and unhealthy ways, but needing that sense of brother so much that they were both afraid to do anything about it.

[kvothe-kingkiller]

I'm not the best writer when it comes to writing convincing essays or whatever, but I'm going to give this a go because it's something that I've thought for a long time that I've never seen anyone really acknowledge unless I bring it up first. (also I am sick and don't really want to do much editing here, just rambles, so good luck)

I think that when most (not all, but most) people get salty about 'modern art', they are not salty about the things people think they are salty about. When they say "this isn't art", theres an important bit that they're not articulating. What I think most of them mean is "this isn't art that should be in a museum." "this isn't art that should cost this much" "this isn't art that should be getting this kind of recognition". And there is a huge difference between that and just saying "this isn't art"

Firstly, all of the arguments about why modern art is in fact art straight up....don't apply. They don't address the problem, they don't answer the question. This isn't really anyone's fault per se, given that it is addressing the literal statement, it's just I think most people aren't actually thinking that literal statement.

So then what do they really mean? Like I said, I think they're trying to articulate why they're frustrated that this art is in a museum when "they could do it". So when you say "okay then, you do it" that doesn't address the core issue, which is "but why is this getting recognition for it, and I would get none" because yes, unless they are famous, they would get Zero recognition for it. Nobody would be lining up to buy their art, no one would ask to put it in a museum. Best place they can hope to have this displayed is a fridge door.

When you look at a piece of fine art, most can see the amount of effort put into it. They see how much training it took to get there, they see how much time it took to put those strokes on that canvas and they can go "yeah, that took skill, that took effort, not everyone can do that. it deserves recognition". And a lot of modern art does take skill, it's just skill that isn't easily noticeable to the average viewer, such as rothko's color fields, they do take a lot of skill and effort, you just can't see it if you don't know. But a lot of modern art that people complain about isn't something that has skill that's not recognized, it just requires very little technical skill at all (not a condemnation, btw).

When you're talking about something 'anyone can do' that piece's value is often not a recognition of skill, or even of the message, it's a recognition of a name. It's similar to having a gucci bag because it's a gucci bag, not because you care remotely about the bag. Yes, art isn't displayed because of how much effort went into it, but it's a huge industry that many many people are making money through from sheer name recognition alone.

Like that one painting of that one artist's (I forget which artist and my cursory google isnt finding it, but also its just an example) where it got replicated and sold to a bunch of people for a large amount of money so they could all have something that had a small chance of being a genuine painting by the artist, that's an excellent example of the fact that a lot of the gallery-level art world is Entirely about the name, not about the piece itself. If someone just made that painting but didn't say it could be from the artist, then who cares?

If you go to ringo starr's art website (https://www.ringostarrart.com/) then you can see that some of his work, especially his older work, is of that category of stuff that many people would say "I could do that" to. For instance, these two? 1,400 and 6,000 pounds respectively for a PRINT of these from his website

....okay this one I kinda enjoy.

but still. 2,000 pounds for a print.

All of this is possible because he's ringo fucking starr, he can sell his paintings for whatever he wants. If I tried to sell those for that much, I'd be laughed out of the room. All of it is just clout, it's just how big your name is and how much you can use that as leverage.

This is not to say that other forms of art don't also have this issue, they do, especially with people devaluing creative works so much today. But you could probably get a few commissions if you sell realistic art or do commissions of people's characters, while you Cannot get any money trying to sell stuff like ringos art unless you already have an audience who will buy it.

This does somewhat lead into a discussion of how art curators pick which artists are 'good' somewhat arbitrarily, but that's a whole other post.

Doing art for 'yourself' vs for other people or money is also a whole other post, one which I've actually seen quite a lot on here. But suffice to say if your response to all of this is 'just make art for yourself! Why do you need recognition?' then maybe go find some of those posts. It's not bad to want recognition, and it's not bad to question why that guy is getting much more recognition for the exact same thing you're doing just because he has a bunch of rich friends who are able to host fancy parties and go 'hmm. yes this is good art.' (not that all modern artists had rich friends, but they did almost all get Extremely lucky in some shape or another that led to them now being widely accepted as good artists).

You cannot make a living off modern art unless you're well known, and if you happen to be well known already, you could likely make a living off modern art without having any experience, and that's what a lot of people hate about modern art, even if they don't articulate it. While some would, most wouldn't say "my five year old could do that" to someone's personal piece that they made themselves and hung up in their home, or that their friend made and gave to them. They say that about the pieces bought for thousands of dollars or millions of dollars.

And I don't want people to think that I do hate modern art, I don't (though this is tumblr, so I'm pissing on the poor just by writing this). I don't hate any of the famous modern artists, I don't think modern art isn't art. I do hate the industry that says their art is suddenly worth something just because some rich fuckers somewhere decided they should be, and anything I tried to do in a similar vein, original or not, would be better suited to sit in a coffee shop and continuously marked down and never sold.

So next time you say "so why don't you make it", maybe ask yourself if you would buy it.

[roronoaswifey]

𝐏𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐘.

ೃ⁀➷summary. eren’s pussy whipped. that’s it.

ೃ⁀➷tags. 18+ content, reader is fem black coded (says nigga once), non established relationship, unprotected sex, fluffy sex.

ೃ⁀➷zuha’s note. had to write for the og loml,, eren is the standard i fear .

“you ready baby?”

“just— hurry on,” you rolled your eyes, growing more impatient as wasted time flies by. “like now.”

your attitude does little to scare him, in fact it never did, but instead is what made him gravitate towards you. he loved every bark you threw at him because it always ended in the same way— you were never able to bite back.

he chuckles at your impatience, grabbing his brick hard dick from the base and tapping his tip against your wet folds, relishing the small squelches made from the contact.

he bites down on his bottom lip, dragging his brown head up from your clit all the way down in between both lips, zeroing on your pretty pussy fluttering and clenching, body begging to latch onto his dick.

“can’t even get a please, princess?” he teases further, adding the slightest bit of pressure of his hips, just enough to barely slip his tip past your surface folds, and you mewl desperately, your own hips rocking forward in hopes of trapping him.

“fuckin—please ‘ren!” you beg, too annoyed from his previous consistent teasings, from making you cum on his fingers and tongue alone but knowing you wanted to finish on his dick more than anything.

“pretty please baby,” eyes never leaving his, you slip your arms down to his waist, acrylic nails gently scratching at his skin and softly pushing him forward into you, encouraging him further.

fiend for your glossy brown eyes and wet lashes, it’s not long before you know you’ll get what you want. another chuckle rumbles deep from his chest and before you know it, he leans his large body forward, chest to chest and your knees pressed as far back to your ears.

eren hears the soft chime of your anklet at his ear, gold accessory complimenting your dark skin beautifully and he almost can’t help the gentle kiss he leaves at your ankle bone.

one large hand encaging your head between his arm, his other hand busying himself by lining up at your sopping entrance. you watch eagerly as he angles his hips, dark brown locks curtaining his face, only the shape of his nose and lips visible.

raising his head back up, he presses a soft kiss at the corner of your lips, and with a deep chuckle, “y’know damn well i can’t say no to you.”

you hummed acknowledging, hands still holding him by the hips, hardly paying attempting to his words. you focus on the way he leans his forehead onto your, tip of your noses brushing and his breath on your plump lips.

“‘m gonna fuck you now.” eren warns you.

with a sigh, you lean forward and catch his lips with yours, nibbling on his mouth and teasingly dragging his bottom lip by your teeth. he sighs gently, easily reciprocating your movements, always having been entranced by the feel of your soft lips on his own.

you pull away just barely, his soft breaths on your mouth and you mumble, “wanna hurry up then?” hands leaving his waist to wrap around his neck, fingers scraping at the nape of his head.

and he wastes no more time, sliding his dick into your greedy hole, his earlier prepping easing the process.

you both moan simultaneously, your head thrown back into the pillow, tugging just slightly tighter onto his hair, as you feel his length stretch your pussy in ways you’d never be able to adapt to, no matter the practice.

eyes fluttering close, you feel eren lean forward into your exposed neck, panting heavily against your sensitive skin, his nose brushing at the crook of your neck where your shoulder and neck connect.

he finally bottoms out, and the silence in the room sans brent faiyaz playing in the back is deafening. your hold him tightly by the upper back, your lashes fluttering open as you stare the ceiling in the dark room illuminated by red lights, waiting for the man above you to pick up his pace.

“sorry baby, gimme a second here,” he grunts through a soft chuckle, breathing deeply and you figured he’s just trying to hold back his nut. if you couldn’t get used to his length, he couldn’t get used to your tightness.

you giggle, threading his locks in your fingers, “still can’t handle pussy, yeager?”

“not yours, no.” you feel him smile against your neck, and you couldn’t help the one that creeped on your face too. soon enough, he pushes himself up, both his arms now pinned at the side of your face.

with a feral grin, he rests his forehead yet again onto yours, adding the slightest bit of pressure to your hips, “feels like you’re tryna trap me here, princess.”

“you wanna get trapped?” you pant out from suddenly feeling stuffed full, and when the man eagerly nods his head, you let out a breathless laugh, watching as he himself smiles from seeing you smile.

“get the fuck outta here nigga,” you lightheartedly kiss your teeth.

“you—hnng, offered!” he works his way in and out of you, feeling his dick coming out of your cunt full of your slick, a breeze hitting his length when his tip is left inside you.

you’re barely holding up yourself, body becoming mush as the large man above you fucks himself in and out. his breaths are deeper and he moans when your hands are back on his waist, guiding him in and out of your fluttering pussy.

“fuuuckkk,” he moans, and you feel it vibrate from his chest that’s pressed against your own. he was never the best at handling any shot you threw at him, but he swears he could feel his soul getting snatched by your hungry folds.

“mmh, yesss baby,” his hips angle up into you, his strokes lacking clumsiness and instead fucking you with precision and focus. he rolls his hips into yours, rocking into you, grinding against you, and god your limbs felt like liquified heat.

“so warm and tight,” he whines, one large hand latching to your bouncing tit and tweaks your jewelled nipple between his fingers. you moan at the added stimulation, buds sensitive while moving in rotations from eren’s sharp thrusts.

“y’got pussy to die for,” he practically mumbles to himself, brows cinched as his lips fall into familiar mantras— praising and worshipping you, talks about how well you take him and how perfect you are for him, love bits and nibbles at every inch of your skin.

your own legs lower from atop of your head to around his hips, heels digging at his lower back as you laid back and took everything he gave you. his fingers now playing at your clit had you seeing stars, his tip relentlessly hitting your cervix with each thrust. with a hand gripping the headboard of the bed, his large frame toward over you, his gold chain brushing over your nose in movement.

“feels so good, hnng,” you whine when you feel that tightening in your belly from precise strokes, dick so big it leaves his print from inside of you. the hand on your pussy abandons the clit in favour of pressing at himself inside of you, and you automatically feel your left leg spasm from overstimulation.

“‘s that me in there?” he feigns ignorance, repeatedly fucking the gummy spot that has your body turning to mush while applying that same pressure at your pelvic region. it’s almost too good, that it has you resting your hand at his lower stomach in attempts to push him off, but he swats your efforts easily.

he’s full of shit, and you would’ve voiced out that thought if it hadn’t been for the sudden finger hooking at your bottom lip and gently prodding at your jaw. you wrap your lips around his finger and moan at the taste, feeling him tug at your mouth,

“open your mouth f’me,” he growls, and you comply, sticking your tongue out as you expect his following actions.

he spits into your parted lips and onto your pink tongue, dick twitching inside as you moan appreciatively, closing your mouth to swirl his taste against your taste buds before swallowing.

“good girl,” he chuckles, leaning further down on his elbows so he’s back face to face with you. his thrusts proceed, and judging by the change of rhythms and stutter in his strokes, he’s bound to nut soon.

luckily you aren’t too far behind, all of today’s activities catching up to you as your gut coils and you feel the tightening about to snap. he’s ramming into you now, much more differently than earlier, and you’ve got your acrylics scraping at the skin on his back, leaving marks of you on there for anybody else to see.

though admittedly, you didn’t want anybody else to see.

“cumming eren, please lemme cum!” you babble though you’re almost uncertain if he can hear, his own babbling about how tight you feel around his dick resonating in your ears.

“wanna cum inside this pretty pussy baby,” he whines in your ear, rutting into you like an animal in heat, warm breath and wet kisses trailing at your hickey littered neck, “paint you white and mine. gonna let everyone know this pussy belongs to me, yeah?”

you nod feverishly, mind dumbed out that you fail to think straight. you wanted to be filled to the brim by him, if it meant you got to cum.

“this pussy is yours baby,” you nod, tears forming in your lash line from the pleasure building up. “‘s all yours.”

and those words seemed to be the final point, breaking the dam as you both finish together, your back arching and pushing your chest further into his, nails raking at his back almost painfully. eren groans deep, fucking both your orgasms with one stone, strokes deep yet slow, emptying his load inside of you while you sprayed him in your essence.

his pace slowed, hands clawing at your waist as his pounds turned to gentle thrusts, your body shivering and shuddering beneath him, chewing at your bottom lip from overstimulation, tears staining your cheeks. your juices mixed with his cum flowed down your thighs, his dick digging deep and shooting more and more cum down your fucked out pussy.

the sounds were downright pornographic, and if not for the proof of your damp sheets stained of both you and him, waking up the next morning without him by your side would’ve made you believed it had all been a dream.

[boneblushed]

Untouchable

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

synopsis It is crucial that the head boy and girl of Kildare Academy learn to work together. Too bad the head girl is you and the head boy is Rafe Cameron.

wc 3k

When Rafe walks into the library on Wednesday afternoon, he tries hard to act as though he didn’t mean to arrive on time. You’re already set up at that table near the back, the one that he knows you’re partial to — another fact he’ll pretend to forget. Sturdy oak bookshelves surround the study area, shielding your figure from prying eyes.

“Cameron,” you acknowledge as his footsteps near, keeping your gaze trained on the book in front of you. The words jumble. His overgrown locks, erring on the softer side of damp, drip thick water droplets onto the table as he halts just short of it.

“Y/L/N,” he responds, equally as formal. A little less as he takes a seat beside you, recognises your closeness. He’s a heady mix of chlorine and vetiver cologne, the body heat on his skin pressing over you in waves.

You blink. He isn’t late, like you’d expected him to be, so you find yourself grappling for another critique to fill the air. You and him have always preferred cutting jibes over menial pleasantries.

Well, mostly you. “Swim practice?” You ask, turning your head to face him.

“Small talk?” He returns, raising his eyebrows playfully. He doesn’t expect your eyes to widen the way they do before you look away again, almost as though the insinuation has you feeling a little abashed. It’s fleeting, but Rafe Cameron notices anyway. He wills himself not to read into it.

“You’re right,” you say, feeling your cheeks warm and clearing your throat in dissent. “No need to make this meeting any longer than it needs to be.”

“Not what I meant,” Rafe replies, leaning back in his chair until it’s balancing on its hind legs. “Just surprised that you’re being nice to me for once.”

You scoff. “That was hardly nice.”

“So you agree?” Rafe asks, cocking his head to one side. “You’re playing hard to get on purpose?”

“I’m not playing anything,” you respond irritatedly, your traitorous cheeks burning. “I just have zero interest in being your friend.”

Rafe rests his hands behind his head matter-of-factly, the posture change dropping your gaze to his broad torso. “Who said anything about friends?”

“Cameron,” you warn, bringing your eyes back up to his face.

“Colleagues,” he adds in lieu of an apology, raising his eyebrows. “Partners. Why? What’d you think I was implying?”

“You know what,” you accuse, not answer, folding your arms across your chest.

He grins at this, triumphant, which only makes you want to do the opposite. “And here I thought you were somehow immune to my flirting.”

“You call it flirting,” you say, narrowing your eyes at him, “I call it harassment.”

Rafe falters. The hind legs of his chair hit the ground with a low thud, and he leans forward a little, the furrow in his brow evident. You aren’t used to him so sombre. Something in your stomach twists at the revelation.

“Damn,” he replies then, his voice lower now, gruffer. “That bad?”

Maybe it’s his sincerity that throws you. “I — okay, not quite,” you say, back-tracking without meaning to. “I don’t know. A little.”

Rafe combs his fingers through his damp hair, sheepish. Droplets of warm water fly onto your open notebook. “I thought you liked arguing with me.”

“I wouldn’t say —” you falter at his knowing expression, drawing your bottom lip between his teeth, “— okay, maybe a bit.”

“I thought it was our thing.”

You frown. “We don’t have a thing.”

“Shit, clearly,” Rafe replies defeatedly, dropping his hand back onto the table. “I… have you always felt like this?”

“Pretty much since that prank in sophomore year, yeah,” you mutter abashedly, a tell-tale heat creeping up your cheeks.

Rafe furrows his brow. “Prank?”

“Don’t make me repeat it, Cameron,” you say, the heat growing ten-fold.

“I don’t remember a prank, though,” he replies, frowning bemusedly. “You don’t mean that time I fucked with the light fixture before our math test, right?”

“No,” you pause, frowning in tandem. “Though to be fair, that was a major pain in everyone’s asses.”

“What then?”

“When you asked me out, you douchebag,” you reproach, reasonably incensed. “How can you not remember that? Yelling across the classroom with your little posse surrounding you?”

Rafe angles back in surprise, his blue eyes widening. “What? That wasn’t a prank.”

“Cameron,” you say, in an as if sort of tone.

“Y/L/N.” His voice is rougher, gravelly around the edges. Desperate sounding. “I mean,” he runs his fingers through his hair in a rush, “fair enough that you thought it was — not exactly my greatest moment. But you had to have known I had the biggest thing for you back then. I thought I made it so fucking obvious.”

“A thing for me?” You echo, warm cheeks becoming an overwhelmingly warm neck.

“Fuck,” he exhales, “clearly I didn’t though, huh? Shit, I’m sorry. This whole time you thought —”

“It’s fine,” you say abruptly. Talking about this is making your stomach hurt more. “I didn’t think anything, alright?”

“Let me make it up to you,” Rafe tries. “Stop with the silly comments.”

You don’t know how to tell him that will somehow make it worse. At least with his wayward flirting and cocky jibes, you always know exactly what to expect from him — nothing. You have a funny feeling a rogue Rafe Cameron will hurt you more than a predictable one. Be harder to keep at arms length, an ignorable distance away from you.

“You know how you can make it up to me?” You ask, pointing down at the notebook in front of you. “By pulling your own weight.”

“Pulling it? I mean… I can definitely bench it.” He tries not to grin when this earns a glare. “You’re right, sorry. Force of habit.”

You eye him warily before looking away, the half-filled page below you an obnoxious white. “I’m not interested in your excuses, Cameron.”

“No. Of course not.” Rafe nods agreeably, reaching into his bag and pulling out his Macbook. “You’re interested in a collaborative effort.”

“Actually,” you say, making a face. “That’s what Cromwell’s interested in.”

“My six-pack, then?”

“Cameron.”

“Sorry, shit, listen,” Rafe replies, grinning sheepishly. “Pulling my own weight, yeah? I’m already doing that Y/L/N.”

He opens up a half-written speech on his laptop, sliding it across the hardwood table toward you. His elbow grazes the side of your torso as he does so, nudging a bolt of static through your skin and into your ribcage.

You squint down at the document in front of you, the frown on your face acquiescing a smidge. “You did this?” A skeptical pause. “All on your own?”

“Shit, you’re right,” Rafe replies, leaning in to look over the script in tandem. His bicep feels warm as it presses into you, chlorine and musk, overwhelming body heat. “No way a jock could actually know that many words, huh?”

You roll your eyes at him, trying to hide your mirth. “You’ve missed more classes for Varsity crap than I can count on my fingers, Cameron.”

“Damn,” he murmurs, ducking his head closer. “Didn’t realise you kept tabs, Y/L/N.”

You realise then that Rafe has zero concept of personal space. “Because I don’t,” you say, clearly your throat awkwardly. “Let’s stay on topic.”

“Yes ma’am,” Rafe responds, his voice still low, a little rough. He pulls his laptop back toward him, glancing over the brainstorm scrawled over your notebook’s pages.

Slowly but surely, you manage to collate your ideas into a coherent opening speech. The fact that you share the same goals, a similar vision, definitely means that this process is far easier than you’d expected. It’s strange, agreeing on so much whilst being so different. Perhaps you didn’t expect him to care about the Academy as much as you do.

By the time your penultimate draft is typed up, the Autumn sun is beginning its descent into the horizon.

You lean over his forearm as the pair of you read over it, his neck bowed a little, dirty-blonde locks flopping over his forehead. Once damp, they’re fluffy with static, completely dry. Not to mention, his shoulder is paperweight heavy, a comfortable wall to rest on as you backspace or enter.

Too comfortable. The pair of you read over the last line in tandem, once, twice, three times, an excuse to linger against each other.

As your gaze drops to the bottom of the screen, it glosses over the time in the corner. 5.30pm — has it really been that long? You clear your throat abruptly, pushing away from him with a start.

“I think that’s good,” you say.

He regards you for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Yeah. I’m pretty happy with it.”

“Well then.” You gather up your belongings and reach for your tote; it’s clear that you’re in a hurry, a revelation that makes Rafe’s chest feel funny. “I guess I’ll see you —”

“How’re you getting home?” Rafe interrupts.

“Walking?” You reply, sending him a funny look. “I don’t live very far.”

As you push back your chair and make to stand, Rafe’s hand on your shoulder demands a pause. It presses warm static into the skin underneath your blouse. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure, Cameron,” you huff, shaking him off reluctantly.

“Alright, well,” he pauses, scratching the back of his neck, “you’ll be here early on Friday morning?”

You nod. “Of course I will.”

“Let me pick you up, then,” he says. “Save you the trouble of walking.”

“Walking isn’t a trouble.”

“It’s meant to rain on Friday,” Rafe lies.

You raise your eyebrows at him. “I’ve got an umbrella.”

“And I’ve got a free seat in my car,” Rafe returns, throwing his laptop into his bag and standing up too. It forces your gaze to move up as he straightens to his full height, the evening sun creating a golden halo around his head. “C’mon. I’ll even let you play deep-cut Taylor Swift on the way.”

“And why,” you accuse, narrowing your eyes out of habit, “would you let me do that?”

“Because we’re friends,” Rafe answers simply.

“Partners,” you correct.

“Same difference, though, yeah?”

“Hm,” you say, turn around and beginning to walk away. “Is it, though?”

“I sure hope so.”

—

On Friday morning, Rafe Cameron breaks a record. He manages to elicit anger at an alarmingly early seven o’clock.

When you climb into his pick-up truck with worn-out limbs and a tired expression, you don’t expect to find an iced latte sitting in your cup holder.

You frown down at it reproachfully, sending him an accusatory look. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows, his own beverage already half-finished. “Who said it was for you?” He asks, his blue eyes full of mirth. “Maybe I need two coffees this early in the morning.”

“Cameron,” you groan.

“You’re allowed to say thank you, you know,” he replies, putting the car into drive. He nudges the drink expectantly before resting his hand back on the gearshift, his rough fingers flexing and relaxing intermittently.

“Thank you,” you mutter, accepting it begrudgingly.

“Fucking hell,” he murmurs back, trying not to smile. “You’d think I was making you drink poison or something.”

You take a frustrated sip before responding to him. “I just — you didn’t have to do that, alright?” You repeat. “Next one’s on me.”

“This isn’t an IOU, Y/L/N, think my mom’d roll over in her grave if it was,” Rafe replies, and then he falters, as if he hadn’t meant to mention her so casually. “Partners buy each other coffees all the time, yeah? It isn’t a big deal.”

It’s a big deal to me, you think. You have a funny feeling partners will prove a slippery slope when it comes to him.

“Whatever,” you mutter, taking another pull of your coffee. Miraculously, it’s been made exactly the way you like it — with oat milk and a pump of vanilla, notes of brown sugar sweetening every sip. You try not to read into this.

“Got any plans for the weekend?” Rafe asks, evidently making small talk.

“None.” A pause. “You?”

“Kelce’s having a thing,” Rafe responds, glancing over at you fleetingly. “Saturday night. Meant to turn into a pretty big rager.”

“Right,” you say. “Cool.”

Rafe slows to a stop at the traffic light preceding the Academy, its brilliant turrets painted a sunrise ochre. “Come.”

“Are you asking or commanding, Cameron?” You return, raising your eyebrows at him.

“Neither,” he replies, grinning roguishly. “Begging, actually.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“None of my friends are going,” you answer simply, raising your eyebrows at him. His head is lolled to your side and yours to his, close enough in proximity to discern every handsome crease on his face.

“I’m going,” he replies, his gaze falling over your features, slow.

The light turns green, then, saving you from having to think of a response to his admission. You turn away from him and take another sip of your iced latte, waiting for him to pull into a park before promptly changing the subject.

“Straight to the assembly hall, you think?” You ask, unbuckling and getting out of his pick-up truck.

“Crommy’ll already be there, yeah,” Rafe responds, slurping down the last of his beverage before aiming it at the rubbish bin in the distance. When he propels his plastic cup towards it and misses, you can’t help the peal of laughter that bubbles out of you.

He turns his head toward you, pleasantly surprised by your mirth. It isn’t often that Rafe Cameron is on the receiving end of your pretty giggle.

“Damn, Cameron,” you say, polishing off your own drink before doing the same, your cup landing cleanly in the bin in juxtaposition. “Don’t you play, like, three different varsity sports?”

“And none of them involve shooting hoops,” he responds, faux-defensive. “Funny how that works, huh?”

“I got it in easy,” you say matter-of-factly

“And I’m sure that has nothing to do with your dad being the basketball coach,” Rafe returns, raising his eyebrows.

This brings a weighty pause. You know that he doesn’t mean to insinuate anything by it, but you always get defensive when your father is brought up. It’s no secret, really, that he’s the only reason you’re at the Academy; your family is middle-class at best, and you’d never have been able to afford the fees without his aforementioned employment benefits.

Perhaps it’s why you feel the overt need to prove yourself at every step.

You clear your throat awkwardly, breaking eye contact and pushing past him. “Let’s go.”

It takes a beat for Rafe to pick up his discarded up and throw it into the bin, another to grapple with your sudden change in demeanour. He locks his car over his shoulder and jogs forward to catch you up, his large shoulder nudging yours as he falls into your step.

“You good?” He asks tentatively, frowning down at you.

“More than,” you answer curtly, the handsome assembly hall looming overhead. “You ready?”

And just like that, your guard is up again. You exchange pleasantries with Mr Cromwell and take your designated seat on the stage, but Rafe can tell that the smile on your face isn’t genuine — there’s something hidden within it, something pained that makes him ache.

He needs to see your real smile again, bad. He takes a seat beside you and watches the student body file in, your proximity filling the air with vanilla and bergamot perfume. Your skin looks softer up close, as if that’s fucking possible, and your hands are clasped neatly in your lap as you look out into the crowd. Rafe is struck with the sudden, overwhelming urge to reach out and squeeze them.

Instead, he leans into your side and ducks his head, his lips at the shell of your ear. “You remember the head boy and girl when we were freshers?”

The gravelly timbre of his voice makes you shiver without meaning to. “Yeah, Lance and Peyton. Why?”

“Christ,” he murmurs, faux-wistful. “Peyton fucking Saunders. I remember walking into this hall for our first assembly and seeing her sitting up here just like you are right now. It was genuinely love at first right, y’know that?”

“Of course it was,” you huff, less indignant and more amused. “The whole school was obsessed with her, huh?”

He nods. “Reckon that’s what happening out there as we speak?”

“What d’you mean?” You murmur back, frowning bemusedly.

“All these scrawny kids heading in,” he whispers, his lips still at your ear, ever-present. “Reckon they’re all falling in love with you in this very moment?”

“Shut up,” you admonish, breathing out an exasperated laugh. “I am not Peyton Saunders.”

“It’s fucking tragic,” he adds lowly, ignoring you. “All the tiny hearts you’re going to break this year. I feel for them, really.”

“Cause you were so heart-broken when Peyton didn’t give you the time of day?” You muse.

“Still recovering, Y/L/N, show some compassion,” Rafe answers mock-reproachfully, shaking his head.

“For you, Cameron?” You ask, your true smile shining through now, a beam of golden light. “Never.”

Triumphant, Rafe simply grins in tandem, settling back in his chair as Headmaster Cromwell approaches the podium. His opening address, succeeded by the not-so-shocking announcement of his upcoming retirement, receives deafening applause, a teacher-led standing ovation.

Though it’s a tough act to follow, you and Rafe recite your speech beautifully. There’s harmony in the way that you divide it up between the pair of you; a togetherness that feels natural, almost as though you were born to be partners.

Near the back of the assembly hall, Kelce Smith shares a knowing look with his friend, Dalton Haynes.

“They’re definitely going to hook up before we get to winter break,” he whispers through the corner of his mouth.

Dalton thinks on this for a moment. “Winter break? No way. Have you met Y/N? Reckon it’ll take her until just before prom.”

“Yeah?” Kelce raises his eyebrows. “How much are you willing to bet on that?”

Dalton grins roguishly, sending a furtive glance around the assembly hall. “Hundred bucks?”

“You’ve got a deal, Haynes,” Kelce mutters under his breath, just as you and Rafe finish speaking.

As they shake on it, the room dissolves into applause. Winter break or prom, it appears that your togetherness is inevitable.

[inbabylontheywept]

Tactical Sulking

The human ship started the conversation by dumping all of its magazines into blackhole Kepler 92A. The PDC depleted their reserves within two minutes and the spinal mount took about twice as long. It would have been an impressive display of firepower if the Attali didn’t know for a fact that even a direct hit from any of the rounds would fail to punch through their hull. 

So instead of worrying they watched with the kind of morbid fascination that adults get while watching a child have a tantrum in public. They watched the ship light up, shitting ton after ton of tungsten coated iron into the corpse of a dead star until at last they ran out of ammo. Then and only then did the Attali send a second message over:

Are you quite finished? 

The response came back immediately. 

Gimme a moment, I’m just finishing a little math problem. But yeah, if it’s urgent, I can talk to you. What’s up big man? 

The Attali barely spent a second parsing over the message. They’d seen human bravado before. 

We sent you a request to surrender, acknowledging that none of your weapons are strong enough to pierce our hull. You opened fire on a blackhole for about five consecutive minutes. Tantrums and sulking do not impress us. 

The human ship took a moment to respond. 

Well, that’s a pity. The two things I’m best at are tantrums and sulking. The third is juggling, but in zero-g that’s… well. Easy. We could host a little talent show here though, if that would impress you. 

Are you going to discuss your terms of surrender, or are we going to have to kill you?

There was a longer pause before the ship replied back.

You know, a minute or two ago, that would’ve been a very scary threat, but you’ve got about ten seconds before shooting us becomes a mutual suicide. We’d strongly discourage that route. 

The Attali commander actually rolled his eyes. 

It’ll take a minute to charge our capacitors. I can promise it won’t be painful. Your bullshitting is a credit to

The message was cut off as a swarm of something ripped through the lower quadrant of the ship. The targeting sensors lost their minds - the projectiles were coming out of the blackhole. 

What the fuck. 

Main thruster was down, as were the nav lines. He had enough presence of mind to direct the side PDC, using recoil to push out of the line just in time to avoid the brunt of another burst of fire. A standard human ferroslug was caught by the lidar, but it was moving so close to C that instrument error was putting it at superluminal.

A second burst of mini rounds blew past the ship. They didn’t catch the brunt like they did the first time, but the stragglers in the burst tore through what remained of engineering. Casualty estimates in that quadrant went past 60% as the capacitor bank blew out, shorting out the main power conduit to their weapon systems. 

Without even PDC recoil to steer, they’d have been trapped, forced to take barrage after barrage of mysterious black hole bullets, if the human ship hadn’t taken the time to intervene. 

It rammed their craft. 

It was not a combat ram. It was a 15 mph collision that gradually turned up the gas. The little human ship chugged along, nudging the Attali cruiser out of the way, avoiding the next barrage by a mere 500 meter gap. 

It shouldn’t have been possible for a ship to look smug, but it did. 

The Attali sent the first message over. Telecom still worked. Life support was running on fumes, but of course the luxury systems were fine. 

What the hell was that? 

Gravity assisted munitions, the human ship replied immediately. The Attali captain had the damndest sense that they’d typed that in minutes ago and were just waiting to hit the send command. 

He took a moment to parse that.

The bullets weren’t being fired into the blackhole. They were being fired very, very close to it. Enough to slingshot around with stolen momentum. 

It was a stupid, stupid trick. And yet. 

What now? he asked. 

Well, the human ship replied. It was awful nice of you to not just kill us on sight. I suppose we could return the favor. Feel like surrendering today? 

There was a long, long pause from the Attali ship as the captain attempted to swallow his pride. The task was not made easier when, a few seconds later, another message came in. 

Chop chop. Tantrums and sulking do not win wars. *Exceptions may apply.*

[eriexplosion]

Okay so. I cannot take it seriously when people say that we weren't led to think CX-2 was Tech. Because no we were not just having foreshadowing of the creation of an Evil Bad Batch. The clues led directly to Tech.

We have to start with the fact that they didn't kill him off definitively. Start with his survival being debated (and there's no way they didn't know it would be debated because I choose to believe they are not stupid) then introduce a character that lasts suspiciously long and has weirdly intense beef with Crosshair and you already are inclining people towards believing this is Tech.

CX-2 goes through a speedrun of Tech scenarios with 1. the leg crushed by a heavy falling object, similar to Ruins of War 2. knocked over by an explosion leaving him dangling above the abyss from a line like Plan 99 3. going over a waterfall and crawling out in a shot that completely matches the scene from The Crossing.

One or two of these is a coincidence, all three together less so.

Plan 99 notes mixed into The Battle of the Snipers. Which the Kiners only explained as the notes 'sounding good in brass' and nothing else.

He gets distinctly Tech like dialogue and no I don't just mean 'domicile' though we do have to acknowledge that no one else in Star Wars uses this word on the regular. We also have the exact match of 'Who are you' to Decomissioned, and the matching of 'I have simply cut off her means of escape' to Tech regularly saying 'I am simply-' when explaining himself, which again is something no one else in the show shares. Tech has a distinct way of speaking that matches CX-2, especially as of Point of No Return. (And CX-2 doesn't really sound like Crosshair, because Crosshair is just straight up not as chatty as CX-2 and never has been.)

He gets a long, unnecessary scene with Phee where he suddenly forgets how to be a murder assassin and starts playing soft.

He doesn't shoot Hunter when he has a chance and chooses to instead shoot his own man, he doesn't blow up the Marauder while Wrecker is inside, and when Omega surrenders he opts to just wait for her to hand him her communicator. He doesn't even shoot Shep when Shep starts talking back to him, all of which indicated that maybe for whatever reason he didn't want to, bolstering the Tech theories.

Getting into an opinion rather than analysis here but: Evil Bad Batch is a stupid fucking idea, it serves no purpose whatsoever other than a cool boss fight that adds nothing to the story. Having a CX be someone, anyone they actually cared about would have been interesting and actually played into the themes of family and forgiveness that were set up earlier in the season. Instead it's just more people to kill off to zero interesting payoff. It's stupid.

Every person I spoke to offline thought that this was Tech. All of them. People that have never looked on social media, watched a theory video, anything. All thought CX-2 was Tech and were confused when he was speared. This was not terminally online theorizing gone wild, this was a very widespread thought and assumption.

So, if they didn't mean to do any of that and at no point intended to imply this was Tech and were solely trying to foreshadow their 5 minutes of Evil Batch fight? They did it poorly. When the majority of your audience actively believes you are leading to one direction only for it to be some other direction that you meant to lead them to, the problem is not The Audience Didn't Read It Right, the problem is you wrote it badly.

[justfandomwritings]

An essay on why I won’t be watching next season.

1. Obviously actors have to promote their shows and hype them up. But the interactions between Nicola and Luke during the press tour were, in retrospect, clearly also acting performances, and it is rare to see acting within the press tour to the degree that those two put on while grossly exaggerating things like how sexy this season would be or how much Polin we would get. I don’t blame them. It’s clearly what they were told to do. And it’s fine to hype a show, but I think a lot of people felt genuinely lied to with the WAY this season was hyped.

2. The casting has been color conscious and inclusive in a way I greatly admire. But they have not been inclusive in other ways. And that’s not to say they should have to be. One show shouldn’t bear the responsibility of being inclusive to everyone and making up for an industries worth of exclusion. But we have exactly one size inclusive character in this whole show, and I’m not even demanding more, but to butcher the season of the only size inclusive person in this show this badly and in these ways sends me a clear message of what the writers thought they could get away with with a curvy actress and how they saw her.

3. The wait times for this season and next season are just too long. The hype dies down too much between seasons such that we care less and less each time we get a new one, especially when you only give eight episodes, regardless of their length. You know who also gave us a season in 2022 and then an eight episode season this year? house of the dragon. And they have to CGI a fuck ton of dragons. Yall were sitting on this season being done filming for over a year and for what? What did you do in post? A bee? And then to have the audacity to do it in two parts? Fuck off.

4. Add to that. The costumes and new sets looked so much cheaper this season than previous seasons. Where did the budget go.

5. The plot is too crowded. Maybe you thought a curvy girl couldn’t carry a season. Maybe it was bad writing. Obviously you needed Cressida and Eloise to have decent amounts of screen time but you also did half of Francesca’s story and set one up for Violet and Benedict that collectively took the majority of the screen time and left us with very little Pen and Colin. Which was a disservice you never gave Anthony or Daphne’s seasons and was why they were good. We got enough crumbs of the others to tell us what was happening but not enough to make them feel like main characters or to make it feel like an ensemble show. There were leads in season 1 and 2. This season it was an ensemble with too many moving parts. But everyone’s said that. It’s not surprising.

6. My biggest problem is the tone. The blame. Admittedly I’m a woman who relates strongly to Penelope so I’m not impartial here. But for a character who spends her entire life being abused by every single person in this show, who is pushed to her absolute breaking point before finally giving her mother and the tonne a taste of their own medicine. For that character to receive no grace, no understanding, no respect, for the vast majority of the season hurt. To not only have zero understanding of her situation but to frame the entire plot of the show around the fact that SHE alone should be sorry. To have minimal to no groveling from Colin over what he said last season, to have no acknowledgment of how he treated her as a safety net, to humanize Cressida who made her life hell with minimal acknowledgment of that fact, to have Eloise get ONE comment from Cressida of all people about her friendship with Penelope but no real reflection from Eloise or acknowledgment on her part or apologies for what a truly SHIT friend she was for DECADES. That hurt. Because the message is that sure, they can push you to your fucking limit, you can break after years of being bullied for your weight and your looks and your status. Your own mother and sisters hands can be filthy with insults and abuse. Your friends can treat you like utter garbage for years. They can befriend your bullies. Your soon to be husband can, very recently, insult you to his friends behind your back. But you owe them the apology for breaking after years of abuse. It’s not that the tonne couldn’t be angry or that they all should’ve fallen at Pen’s feet. It’s that those arguments never happen at all because once again, just like when she was being used and abused by everyone, everything was put on Penelope. And the cycle continues.

7. Colin should’ve groveled more. I know I said that in the previous point but it really ruined things for me so I want to emphasize it. I wanted that man on his knees the whole season, and I should’ve known I wasn’t gonna get that when y’all dropped the list of songs and there wasn’t any of the A List Yearners on the list. But I’m still mad.

8. Actually that’s a good point. Did anyone else think the songs didn’t go as hard this year? Except Pitbull were we excited about any of them?

9. You did the Pride and Prejudice ballroom trick with the dancing alone thing and you didn’t nail it. If you’re gonna do that trick it has to fucking HIT. (And it has to be enemies to lovers.) And you did it half assed. You should be ashamed.

10. There was a two second window there when Cressida asked the maid for help where I thought they were gonna swap lives and the maid would go with her aunt and Cressida would become a maid and I was like “holy fuck is Cressida gonna become Bennys love interest?” and that would’ve been better than what y’all did I think. And it would’ve justified her excessive screen time.

11. I love gender swapping Michaela and making Francesca bi. We love it. But why was Francesca immediately interested. Once again the writers don’t understand pining. Michaela is PINING for Francesca and can do nothing but love her from afar. Francesca loved John completely and whole heartedly. Michaela was a beautiful love story for her but was also a second chance. She loved John completely. She would never have an emotional affair on him. How did you immediately ruin such a beautiful second chance romance?

12. Where was Pen’s friendship with Anthony or Lady Danbury? Why wasn’t Colin proud of Pen the way he was in the book? To make her even more alone? To emphasize that she was alone and at fault and helpless? Fuck off.

I just don’t have it in me to watch this show deteriorate further.

[tbmunson]

Escape - Gareth Emerson x Reader

Summary: You and Gareth get paired for the most important art project of the semester.

Warnings: Slow burn, idiots in love, caring for Gareth's sisters.

WC: 4,730

Notes: I'm in recovery for surgery, so updates will be slow. Shout out to @ashes-writing for being my absolute bestie and letting me bounce ideas.

1 / 2 / 3

PART 1

“Okay, class, you’ll work as partners for your final project.” Mr. Greely the art teacher stated, earning a cheer from the class. “I wouldn’t cheer so fast. I paired you up myself. This project is to make art based on what you learn about your partner, hence the little questionnaire at your tables. It can be a painting, drawing, or sculpture. Any audio recordings or mixed tapes will be given a zero. This is art, not band.

You rolled your eyes, but not because you wouldn’t be working with Tiffany, the only other cheerleader in the class, but because there was a chance you’d have to work with one of the meatheaded basketball players. You didn’t really want to work with her either, but that was a whole other can of worms.

Mr. Greely droned on, only catching your attention when he said your name. “You’ll be working with Emerson.”

Your eyes widened, which caught the attention of a few of your classmates who began to giggle. The panic was not from the boy himself, rather the fear you would accidentally fall harder for him if you got to really know him. Your focus was disrupted by shuffling next to you as Gareth settled into the desk paired with yours. “Hi.” You said softly, meek almost.

Gareth assumed this was due to disdain for him, presented a bit more politely. He did hear the giggles after all. “What’s up?” Not a question, just a simple acknowledgement to your greeting.

You studied his side profile, debating the different art forms you could use to relay the puffy haired metalhead next to you.

“You have a month to complete this project. Oh, and, your partner will be grading you on how well they think you relay them to the world. That does have an effect on the overall grade, so get to know each other.” Mr. Greely finished as the bell rang.

“So, I don’t know if you’re busy tonight with it being Friday and all, but my house is free tonight if you want to come do the questionnaire.” You offered sweetly as you packed your notebook into your bag.

“I, uh, have to watch my sisters tonight, but, if you want to, I mean, you can come to my place.” His nerves were apparent, which made you smile.

“Yeah, I’ll find you at lunch and finalize the details.” You gripped the strap to your backpack and turned to meet Tiffany at the door.

She sputtered out a laugh as she glanced over her shoulder to Gareth. “You really got paired with the freak, huh?”

You couldn’t stop the eye roll. “Tiff, I’ve known him since forever. He’s a sweet guy. Just because he listens to different music and doesn’t dress the same doesn’t make him a freak.” You replied, trying to keep your tone level so as to not snap at the head of the cheerleading team.

“He plays a fucking fantasy game, babe. It’s weird.” She chirps back as if it was common knowledge.

“It’s an escape. Everyone has an escape. You totally zone out when you cheer. That’s your escape.” You’re fully annoyed now, but not showing it, which is hard due to the fact that she just laughs, mumbling a “Whatever.” under her breath.

You break off into your math class and sit next to Eddie Munson. “Hey, Eddie.” You say, catching his attention.

He peeks around you, looking around.

“What are you doing?” You ask, furrowing your brows.

“Wondering why Hawkins High’s very own princess is trying to talk to me. Not that I’m complaining. Just curious.” He responded with an amused look.

You can’t help the small smile that spreads at his antics. “I’m talking to you because I’m a nice person and I let you cheat off of me. It’s time to repay the favor.”

“Ooh, princess wants something from the freak. Enlighten me.” He taps the tips of his fingers together in a way that would mook maniacal if it weren’t Eddie.

You roll your eyes at the dramatics. “I have an art project and I need-”

“I will not model naked for you if that’s what you’re asking.” He had a very serious look on his face, which meant he was totally joking, something you’d come to know sitting next to him in three different classes.

You smacked his arm and furrowed your brow. “No. I need the inside scoop on Gareth. He’s my partner and I have to get to know him, like really get to know him for this project.”

Eddie nods, resting his chin in his hand. “Okay. I can help you with that. As long as I keep copying your homework and cheating off of your tests.” He smirked, a wide grin plastering his face.

“In all honesty, I didn’t even think about using that as a threat.” You giggled, reaching over and scribbling your number onto a page with a scratched out doodle in his notebook. “Call me tomorrow. I’ll be at Gareth’s tonight.”

“Oh yeah, date night.” Eddie replied kind of like an off hand comment.

“It’s not a date, Eddie.” Your eyes were wide again like they had been in art class.

Eddie laughed and shook his head. “I mean his parents. He has to watch his sisters. Although I may be reading into that reaction a little too much, but I think you-”

“Not another word or the copying does stop.” Your face was hard, begging him not to speak the words you already knew were true. You would like to go on a date with him, but this, getting to really know him as part of a project, it’ll work too. Better, you convince yourself. Better because there’s no pressure to actually like him and if you don’t, well at least you'll know and you can stop this pitiful pining over him.

“Yes, your highness.” Eddie bows as much as he can while sitting before the teacher begins class.

Two class periods later you were headed to lunch. Once you made it to the cafeteria you headed right for the Hellfire table, leaving a very confused Stephanie in the doorway. As you approached a group of freshmen were settled at the table. “Hi, does Gareth sit here?” You knew he did, but striking up a conversation would be better than just claiming a seat that didn’t belong to you.

The curly haired one looked up, surprised a cheerleader was talking to him. “I, uh, yeah.” he sputtered, earning a glare from the dark haired one.

“Dude, you can’t just tell people like-” He cuts himself off, looking up at you and wondering if you’d tear him a new one.

You laughed and leaned against the table. “I know. People like me have a bad rap, and usually for good reason. I have an art project with Gareth and we need to go over some details. No malice. No ill intent. Pinky promise.” You held out your pinky, waiting for one of the group to make their move.

The smaller boy with a bowl cut reaches out, linking his pinky with yours. “He’ll be here in a few. He usually takes a smoke break before coming to lunch. That’s his seat,” He points to a chair on the edge of the opposite side of the table. “And Jeff isn’t here today, so the spot next to him is open if you want to sit.”

“Thank you.” You smile before rounding the table and sitting in the middle seat. “My name is Y/N, by the way.” You offer a hand over the table for any one of them to take.

The curly haired boy reaches over and shakes it, “I’m Dustin, this is Mike and Will.”

“It’s nice to meet you guys. So, how does Dungeons and Dragons work? I’ve never played but it seems interesting from what I’ve seen.” You can’t find it in yourself to regret the question as Dustin and Will go into an in depth explanation of the game. You were so drawn in that you didn’t notice Gareth walking up to the table, or the look of horror as the freshmen bombarded you with facts about a fantasy game, even if he loved that fantasy game more than most things.

“Alright you guys, I’m sure she doesn’t want to hear about DnD.” Gareth sighed as he sat, drawing the attention of the four of you.

You gave him a playful glare. “I asked, actually. It sounds like a lot of fun. Very creative.” You were smiling by the end.

Gareth nodded, unable to help the thought that you were only saying that to seem nice and use it against them later. He immediately felt bad because in all the years of classes together, you’d never been that way. “Okay, well, I’m sorry. You can continue, Dustin.”

“Actually, Dustin, as much as I want to hear the differences in characters, I really need to get some stuff settled with Gareth about this project. How about I come sit here on Monday and you and Will can finish telling me about it.” You offered, finding the kids incredibly charming and utterly adorable.

“Yeah!” Dustin replied, opening a book to keep track of what he’d filled you in on already.

Gareth chuckled and leaned over to whisper to you. “You really don’t have to let them torture you like this.” The way his voice rumbled in your ear mixed with the warmth of his breath cascading down your neck, you knew you were screwed.

“Gare, really, I want to know about it. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” You assured him, placing a hand on his forearm and giving it a small squeeze.

Gareth didn’t know what else to say, so he only offered a crooked smile instead.

“Good, it’s settled. Now to the main task at hand. What time do I need to come over?”

He shrugged and went over the schedule in his head. “I’m gonna do dinner at 5:30, give them a bath, and let them play. They’ll be out by 7:30.” He offered more as a question.

“Or, I can bring dinner from Benny’s around 6, help you give them a bath, and we can all watch a movie before they go to bed.” You twisted a curl around your finger as you waited for his response.

He nodded and smiled. “Yeah, they’d like that.”

You slid your notebook and a pen in front of him. “Write down your order and I’ll be over by six.”

“Do you even know where I live?” He quirked a brow as he scribbled down an order.

“Gareth Emerson, I have lived down the street from you my whole life. Of course I know where you live.” You reached out and gently smacked his shoulder.

Gareth laughed and held a hand up in surrender. “I’m just making sure. I’d hate for you to get lost and leave me starving.” He jokes, sliding the notebook across the table with the order, along with his number. “See you tonight?”

“For sure, but you’re going to see me sitting here for the rest of lunch, if that’s okay with you.” You looked up at him through your lashes.

“It’s totally fine!” Dustin said, grabbing your attention. You’d almost forgotten about the freshmen sitting across from you.

You laughed and nodded, knowing he wanted to continue his spill about the different kinds of characters.

The end of the day came and you were headed out to your car when you were stopped by Tiffany. “What in the hell were you doing at that table of freaks during lunch?”

Your jaw clenched, but you didn’t let your anger show. “I had to come up with a plan for this project. Gareth is my partner. Art is the only class we have together and I’d like to get it started sooner rather than later.”

Tiffany scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Don’t let it happen again.”

“Actually, I’ll be there Monday too, and probably a few times throughout the next couple of weeks. I’ll sit with you guys on game days so no one sees me in my uniform at their table, but this project is important to me. Art is important to me. You know I want to be an artist. If getting to know him is what it takes to make a kickass piece, then I’m doing it.” Your tone wasn’t harsh, but it was firm, letting her know there would be no room for negotiation.

She didn’t say anything, just stomped away, which caught the attention of the older Hellfire members.

“I think she just stood up for us.” Grant said, eyebrows raised.

Gareth pressed his back against the brick wall and looked up at the tin of the sidewalk covers. “Fuck.” He shook his head as he breathed deeply.

“What, Emerson?” Eddie cocked a brow at Gareth’s pained expression.

“I don’t know. Like, this is going to be so hard. I’ve only been in love with her since kindergarten. Now she’s sitting at my lunch table, standing up for me and my friends, and she’s coming to my fucking house tonight. How am I supposed to do this?”

Eddie couldn’t help but to laugh at his friend's pained expression. “I usually don’t get in the middle of this crap, but, earlier I made a joke about it being date night. She got really defensive, and that’s fully a sign that she’s into you. Maybe just go for it?”

“You’re so full of shit, Munson. She’s just a nice person and didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.” He replied, finally pushing himself off the wall. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow at practice. Gotta get home so my parents can head out.”

Eddie and Grant mumbled their goodbyes before making their way to Eddie’s van.

It was currently 5:50 and you’d just pulled into the Emerson’s driveway with a passenger seat full of food and shakes. You released a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding before cutting the engine and getting out of the car. You’d barely made it to the passenger door when the glossy red door to the house flung open.

“Lori, get back here!” Gareth’s exhausted yell came as he chased her down the steps, not yet realizing you’d arrived. He scooped her up as she giggled.

“I was trying to see your friend!” Lori‘s giggles quickly turned into a whine when she realized her brother had no plans to put her feet back on the ground.

Gareth finally looked up, making eye contact with you as you rested your elbow on the roof of the car. “Hey, uh, sorry. One sec.” He finally returned Lori’s feet to the ground but made her look at him. “Go back inside. I’m going to help Y/N bring the food in and you can see her in there, okay?”

She pouted but nodded before walking slowly to the house.

“Someone’s got the dad voice down.” You smiled, bending to grab the bags as Gareth made his way over to you in a pair of grey sweat pants and a faded Metallica shirt.

“Yeah, well, someone had to be when my dad split a few years ago. Rick is nice though.” He replied, reaching to take the bags out of your hands.

You nodded, smiling as his skin brushed yours. “I think you’re doing a great job considering she actually listened.” You offered before bending back down to get the drink tray with the shakes.

Gareth planned on replying, but he was silenced by the sight of you bent over and the amount of leg coming out of the old practice cheer shorts you’d changed into. He watched you stand and bump the door with your hip to close it.

“C’mon Gare, shakes are melting.” You said, taking a few steps towards his house.

He nodded and followed wordlessly. This was going to be a lot harder than he thought.

As you and his sisters settled into the table Gareth apologized again that his sisters threw a fit to both sit next to you.

“They’re fine, Gareth. Tell your brother to stop worrying so much, Lori.”

“Yeah, stop worrying that much.” She sassed, making you laugh and Gareth roll his eyes.

“I don’t know how Clara expects me to help her with her food all the way over there.” He gave the youngest girl a look as if to say ‘didn’t think of that, did you’.

“I’ve got it. It’s just chicken and fries. She’s safe in my care.” You assured him as you opened the small styrofoam container to start tearing the strips into more manageable pieces for a two year old

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have to.” He replied sincerely.

You sighed and turned to look at him. “Gareth, it’s okay to let people do stuff for you. If I minded I wouldn’t be doing it. Do you trust that?”

He was at a loss for words, only nodding in response.

“Good. Now eat your burger before it gets cold.” You instructed as you finished tearing the chicken. “One at a time, Clara. Don’t put another in your mouth until the first one is all gone, okay?”

The small girl with white curly hair and bright blue doe eyes nodded, reaching for a piece of her chicken.

You popped a fry into your mouth, fully ready to dive into your burger when there was a tap on your shoulder. You turned to see Lori looking at you with a pout.

“Can you do my chicken too? Pretty please.” She looked like she was scared you would say no.

“Of course, baby doll! Let me see.” You pulled her plate over to you and started ripping the chicken into bits.

“Lori, you eat strips all the time.” Gareth stated after swallowing a bite of his burger.

“Gareth, eat your burger and let her be. She wants my attention and that’s okay.” You assured him, cutting your eyes over to look at him across the table without moving your head very much.

“But your food is going to get cold.” He urged as you took on the second strip.

“We’ll call it practice for being a real mom one day. Cold food, cold coffee, hot ice cream.”

“Ew! Hot ice cream!” Lori laughed as you pushed her plate back towards her.

You couldn’t help but join in. Her laugh is tinkly like a fairy, contagious.

“Okay, alright, I won’t say anything else.” He raised his hands in surrender before going back to his food.

The rest of the meal went by quietly, ending with you spooning the girls' shared shake into separate cups.

Once dessert was had, it was bath time, resulting in your cheer camp t-shirt getting soaking wet.

“I am so sorry. Let me get you a shirt.” Gareth was red from embarrassment.

You, however, were still smiling. “Okay, Gare. I’ll get them dried off and changed, then I’ll come find you about the shirt.”

He nodded and left the bathroom.

“Are you my brother’s girlfriend?” Lori asked once she was sure Gareth was gone.

You giggled a bit and shook your head as you pulled her nightgown over her head. “No, baby doll, I’m not. We go to school together. He’s my friend.”

She nodded and her face twisted in thought. “Will you be his girlfriend?”

You gave her a soft smile. “Yeah, I hope so one day.” You winked at her before turning to help Clara into her nightgown. “Why don’t you girls go down stairs to the couch while I go find Gareth and change, hm?”

Lori nodded and took Clara’s hand to lead her away.

You sighed and pushed yourself from the floor.

It didn’t take much to figure out which door belonged to Gareth. He had various band stickers and drawings on the door. You knocked twice.

“Come in!” He called as he snagged his favorite Motley Crue shirt from the hanger. It may or may not have been for a fantasy he had not too long ago.

You opened the door and stepped in. “Hey, I sent the girls downstairs to get settled. Just came to grab the shirt. It’s starting to get a little chilly.” You chuckled at the end, leaning against the wall.

“Okay, great. Um, you can change here if you want. I can go get the movie ready.”

You nodded and stepped further into the room. “Yeah, thanks. I’ll be down in just a second.” You said taking the worn material from his hands. Once the door clicked closed you pulled your shirt over your head and unhooked your bra which was soaked through. You hoped the shirt would be big enough that the lack of bra wouldn’t be noticeable. What you didn’t think about though, was leaving the pile of damp clothes at the foot of the bed before walking out of the room and down stairs.

“Can I sit with you!” Lori yelled as she saw you finally descend the stairs.

“Of course, baby doll.” You smiled, glancing over at Gareth who managed to go a deep shade of red.

Maybe putting you into that shirt was one of his less than stellar ideas. His mind wandered back to the dream he had the other night of you, in the shirt, on top of him- He stopped his thoughts immediately before they became too much.

You settled next to him and let Lori climb into your lap as Gareth hit play on the Care Bears movie. You ran your fingers through the six year olds hair, eventually braiding it into a nice french braid before she fell asleep. You looked over to Clara who was dead asleep in Gareth’s lap.

He looked over at you and then up the stairs. “They won’t wake. They sleep pretty hard. Wanna take them up and get started?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” You smiled as you got a better grip on Lori. You followed Gareth up the stairs and pushed open Lori’s bedroom door. You laid her down gently in her princess bed sheets and covered her up before heading back to the hall to meet Gareth.

“You’re really good with them, you know.” He said, leading you back down the stairs and turning the light on.

“If I don’t go into art, I want to teach little ones.” You said, tucking a hair behind your ear.

“You could be the art teacher for the little ones.” Gareth offered. “Best of both worlds.”

“You’re so smart, you know that? That never crossed my mind.” You laughed a little, not believing you’d not thought of it before.

Gareth smiles as he bumped your shoulder. “Thanks. And when you do become an art teacher for little ones, make sure you credit me.” He winked before sitting on the floor at the coffee table.

You sat across from him, rolling your eyes at his joke. “I’ll put your name on the degree.” You said sarcastically as you pulled the questionnaire sheet from the spiral notebook.

Both of you took a second to look over the sheet before you spoke again.

“These are bullshit questions.” You said passively as you looked up from the bullet point asking ‘What is your partner’s favorite color.’

“Why do you say that?” He asked, putting his sheet down on the table.

You sighed and tapped your pen on your lip and you thought. “If I’m supposed to make an art piece based on you, what good is knowing your favorite food and color? I mean do I just draw a red cheeseburger? It’s so basic. Art is supposed to make you think. Make you feel something.” You emphasized before laying back on the floor.

Gareth laughed and scooted around to your side of the table to lay next to you. “You have a point, but how do you know my favorite color is red? I never told you.”

You turned your head to look at him rather than the ceiling. “I’ve lived 50 yards from you my whole life, we went to the same daycare, elementary, middle, and high school. Red is one of the few colors in your color palette. People don’t wear colors they don’t like.” You studied his face, taking in every freckle, every developing laugh line, every shade of blue and green in his eyes for the hundredth time, only this time you were much closer. It had much more of an effect on you.

“You’re very observant, you know.” His mouth ticked up into a lopsided smile as his eyes darted around your face.

“Which is you telling me that I’m right.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He laughed this time, making you smile. “You’re not as oblivious as you present yourself as. Why do you do that?” His brows furrowed as he questioned you.

You shrugged, debating your answer for a moment. “I do what I have to in order to make it where I want to go. You present yourself as a dark, twisty guy who doesn’t care about anything, yet you’ve got smile lines and you’re amazingly sweet with your sisters. Why do you do that?” You challenged with a playful smile.

“Self preservation. I’m a weird kid and if I come off as someone who’s easy to mess with, life would be a whole lot worse. So I keep myself far away from the people who don’t deserve to know me.” He explained, his eyes holding a look that you couldn’t quite place.

Before you could stop yourself you asked, “Do I deserve to know you?”

His eyes that held your gaze flickered down to your lips and back up. “Yeah. Do I deserve to know you?”

You nodded, unable to resist the urge to reach over and rest your hand on the side of his face.

The moment was quiet, intimate, and gone far too quickly as his mom and stepdad came into the house.

“Gareth, whose car is in the drive-“ his mothers voice cut off as she walked in on the innocent scene because she could feel the tension between her son and the girl laying on the floor.

You snatched your hand away quickly and looked at the woman in the doorway, praying she wouldn’t berate you for being there.

“Mom. Hey. I told you Y/N was coming by for the art project.” He was red, not from a blush but from panic. His heartbeat was thundering in his ears so loud he thought it must have been audible.

She nodded and smirked. “Alright, well, carry on then.” She turned and walked into the kitchen where her husband was digging around in the pantry. “They’re going to get married. I’m calling it now.”

“Gwen, you can’t be serious. You haven’t even spoken to the girl.” He turned to look at her before glancing through the doorway to see the girl in question gathering her things.

“A mother knows.” She patted his chest and gave him the look. The look that said you-know-I’m-right.

Gareth walked with you out the door and to your car. “I’ll see you on Monday. Be careful.” He opened your door for you and watched you get in.

“If I wreck going three houses down the street, I probably don’t need a license.” You joked as you looked up at him, taking in the way the moonlight bounced off of the high points of his face.

“Be careful.” His tone was a bit more authoritative than before, making your insides turn.

“I will be.” You promised before smirking. “Do you want me to call you when I get there so you know I got in okay?” You teased lightly, making him roll his eyes.

“Just for that, I sure do. If my phone’s not ringing in 5 minutes I’m coming down there.” He was smiling, laughing at the way you scrunched up your nose at him before sticking your tongue out.

“Maybe I won’t call then.”

“Are you testing me?”

“I guess you’ll find out.”

“I guess I will.” He winked and closed the door to your car before walking towards the door. He stood there, watching you back out of the driveway thinking about how easy it was with you. It was easy to be himself. He finally went inside to wait for your call.