#eugh obscene

[refloralisation]

My favourite Damian Wayne & Dick Grayson headcanon is that when Damian saw the discowing suit his honest, baffled reaction was

"How could you patrol like this, with your bare chest out? Obscene!!"

[faggling]

Nothing I hate more than seeing same sex CSA called commiting homosexual sex acts with a child.

I only see it in stuff from like fifty years ago and there's a lot of reasons why that's the language used aside from implicit (and explicit) homophobia. Especially when CSA was just starting to really enter public consciousness. But christ alive that phrasing sucks

[redvexillum]

Listen @nyx91 I'm not well versed in the realm of writing a threesome. So, I did my best.

TAGS/WARNING: AFAB!reader, threes♡me, d♡uble penetrati♡n, rough ♡ral s♡x, rough cunniling♡s, hair pulling, an♡l sex, p in v, d♡cryphilia, multiple ♡rgasm (f!receiving), over-stimulation, sobbing, begging, d♡m/sub, sub!reader, sq♡irting, reader gets their brain f♡cked out, rough s♡x, b♡ndage

The tendrils of shadows coiled around your wrists like snakes, slithering up your arms until they pinned you helplessly to the bed. Their grip was firm, almost possessive. Your breath caught in your throat, chest rising and falling in uneven gasps, as your gaze darted between the eerie glow of Vox’s blue screen and Alastor’s piercing red eyes, watching you hungrily from the darkness.  

A sudden chill prickled across your skin as thin, metallic wires wrapped around your ankles, cool and unyielding, spreading your legs apart with deliberate slowness. Your body trembled, nipples hardening from both the icy air and the rush of sensation flooding through you. The slickness between your thighs grew shamefully, your cunt betraying you as it throbbed, anticipating what was to come.  

Footsteps echoed across the wooden floor, sharp and calculated, until the familiar weight of claws dug into your cheeks. Alastor’s grasp was commanding as he tilted your head back, forcing your eyes to meet his. The ticking radio dials were a cruel rhythm that matched the sinister gleam in his gaze.  

“What was that, dear?” he hissed, his voice dripping with dark amusement. He tugged your face towards him, making your shoulders strain from where your wrists were bound above you.  

“I...I just wanted...” your voice faltered, breath catching once more as Vox’s fingers slid inside you unexpectedly, stretching your aching core with a rhythm that was both torturous and electrifying. Each plunge was punctuated by the wet, obscene sound of your slick, the noise amplifying in the oppressive quiet of the room.  

Alastor’s smile widened, mocking. “Eugh, Vox, must you really reward her insolence?” 

“Reward?” Vox’s chuckle was low and dangerous, his thumb pressing hard against your swollen clit, making you jolt violently, your body unable to contain the sharp spike of pleasure that shot through you. “Oh, I don’t think she’s seeing this as much as a reward, do you?” His voice dropped to a whisper as he circled your sensitive bud again, dragging another strangled cry from your lips.  

It was too much – pleasure and pain, an exquisite blend that left your body trembling, every nerve bursting to life with sensation. “Ngh - pl – pl-” you stammered, hips twitching, desperate to escape and yet needing more at the same time. Your cry was swallowed as your body arched, caught in the maddening whirl of overstimulation.  

Alastor hummed thoughtfully, his sharp claws ghosting down the length of your neck, trailing over your collarbone before pinching one of your nipples with cruel precision. You gasped, the pain sharp but twisting into something delicious as it mingled with Vox’s relentless thrusts and the pressure on your clit.  

Tears welled at the corners of your eyes, your vision blurring as your mind struggled to keep up with the overwhelming assault of your senses. Alastor’s hands worked your breasts mercilessly, squeezing and twisting your nipples, while Vox curled his fingers inside you, hitting that spot deep within that made you see stars.  

Your body couldn’t take it anymore. The pressure building inside snapped like a tightly wound coil, your back arching violently as your mouth opened in a silent scream. Your release crashed over you in waves, your body spasming helplessly under their touch.  

But as the tremors of your orgasm subsided, Vox withdrew his fingers abruptly, leaving you gasping, your slick clinging to him as he pulled away. His voice was a low growl, vibrating with dark satisfaction. “Now you’ve done it...who gave you permission to come?” 

“You mean my permission,” Alastor scoffed, his dark grin widening as his gaze bore into you, predatory and gleaming with amusement. That familiar shiver coursed through you, his sinister energy wrapping around your body like a vice.  

You rolled your eyes in defiance. “There you guys go again,” you muttered under your breath, regretting it almost instantly when you felt the sharp intensity of Alastor's red eyes fixating on you, the weight of his anger palpable.  

“Is that why you’ve been such a brat lately, my dear?” His voice shifted, higher, mocking. The sound of zippers slowly undoing cut through the room, a tell-tale sign of what was to come. “You sent letters to both of us, didn’t you? Now, what was is that you wrote?” His smile turned menacing, his grin cutting through his cheeks.  

Vox’s voice chimed in, repeating your words like they were the punchline of a joke. “Why don’t you fuck and make up, you old farts,” he drawled, his deep tone laced with amusement.  

A wave of heat surged through your body, the embarrassment spreading from your flushed cheeks down to your chest. It had sounded so much better in your head when you wrote it. Now, in front of them, if felt immature. You shot a pleading look toward Vox, hoping for some reprieve. He was always softer with you compared to Alastor, more indulgent when Alastor revelled in pushing you to the brink.  

“That’s because you two were having a pissing match, and I didn’t want to be in the middle anymore!” you exclaimed, squirming against the binds that held you captive. Your plea hung in the air, but you could see from Alastor’s expression that he was far from convinced.  

“Oh? So, you thought it wise to snub me when I specifically asked you to come to my bedroom last night?” Alastor’s voice dripped with disdain, his tentacles undulating as they slithered across your body, binding your wrists behind your back. With a firm shove, he pushed you upright, his cock now in full view – thick, rigid, and the angry tip already slick with pre-cum. It pressed insistently against your cheek, hot and demanding.  

“I asked Vox to go instead,” you mumbled, the words barely leaving your mouth before Alastor’s fingers curled tightly into your hair. He yanked your head forward, forcing you to face him, his cock brushing against your lips.  

“Suck,” he commanded, his voice leaving no room for disobedience.  

“Hmph.” You closed your mouth defiantly, turning your head away with a stubborn pout. “No.” 

Alastor’s eyes darkened dangerously at your rebellion, and you could feel the tension rising between the two of them. You knew you were playing with fire, but the constant feud between them – the passive-aggressive digs, the battle for dominance – was exhausting. You wanted them to stop. “Not until you two make up with each other. Maybe fuck out all that frustration.” 

A screech of static and white noise filled the room, both Alastor’s and Vox’s displeasure evident. You winced at the sound, realizing just how much you’d overstepped. Perhaps discussing this in the middle of the bedroom, bound and at their mercy, wasn’t your wisest choice. But before you could even begin to back track, Vox’s voice cut through the air, dark and teasing.  

“Oh, baby doll,” he cooed, his tone dripping with danger. “It sounds like you’re asking for a punishment from the both of us.” 

Before you could protest, his long, serpentine tongue slid up your swollen cunt, the sensation jolting through your already sensitive body like a lightning bolt. You yelped, the sound muffled as Alastor took the opportunity to shove his cock into your mouth. The heady, intoxicating scent of him filled your senses as you instinctively began to suck, the weight of him pressing against your tongue, thick and unrelenting.  

"Any drama I have with Vox is none of your concern,” Alastor growled, his words vibrating against your skin as he pushed further into your mouth, making you take every inch. “I’m sure my old pal agrees with me,” 

Vox’s wet, obscene slurp echoed from between your legs, his tongue devouring your slick heat with fervour. He paused for a moment, his eyes meeting yours with a wicked gleam. “That’s right, baby. You just need to be a good little girl for us,” he rasped, his breath hot against your thighs. “Let us fuck you whenever we want, and open that pretty pussy for me.” His clawed fingers stretched you open, the sharp edges of them making you shudder as you felt the pain and pleasure mingling together.  

Alastor’s breath hitched as your tongue expertly swirled around the head of his cock, your mouth working him with practised ease. “In less...crude terms,” he grunted, pulling back only to thrust deeper, the tight space of your throat accommodating him as you gagged, “we fulfill each other’s desires. That’s all that matters.” 

His hips snapped forward, his balls slapping against your chin as he filled your mouth completely, the sensation overwhelming as you struggled to keep up. Every thrust pushed you further, your mind spinning from the sensory overload – Vox's tongue dragging you toward another orgasm, Alastor’s cock hitting the back of your throat with precision, the two of them taking control of every part of you.  

You moaned around Alastor’s length, the sound vibrating through your throat as your body convulsed, teetering on the edge of another release, knowing you were completely at their mercy.  

You had always known where you stood with them, perfectly slotting into the role they craved – a partner who could resist just enough to make the submission sweeter, but ultimately, their good little cock sleeve. The arrangement worked, and lately, you couldn’t help but notice the shift in their dynamic. Maybe this new obsession with taking you together was their way of rebuilding their bond, using your body as the bridge between their fractured relationship.  

Alastor’s hand tangled in your hair, pulling you back as his cock slipped free from your lips, slick with your spit. You barely had time to catch your breath before Vox’s thick, wet tongue plunged into your aching cunt, delving deep and curling inside you, exploring every inch of your soaked core. “Oh, fuck,” you gasped, your shoulders burning from being tied together, your legs trembling as they spread wide to accommodate him.  

Alastor’s voice slithered through the haze of pleasure, teasing. “Are you going to cum again, dear?” His hand stroked his length, the heavy head of his cock tapping against your lips, demanding entrance. “Are you going to cry and cum all over Vox’s tongue?” 

Your breathing was ragged, your chest rising and falling as the pressure built inside, another orgasm so close on the heels of the first. The edges of your vision blurred, your mind growing fuzzy, consumed by the sensations flooding your body. You nodded weakly, unable to speak, knowing you were on the verge of tipping over the edge.  

As the peak hit, your cry turned into a scream, your body convulsed, desperate to curl way from the relentless assault of Vox’s tongue, but Alastor was quicker. His cock thrust into your mouth with a rough shove, silencing your scream as the orgasm ripped through you. Your moans were muffled around his thick shaft, your saliva dripping messily from your lips as you gagged and swallowed, the raw intensity of pleasure overwhelming.  

When Alastor finally eased his grip on your hair, you collapsed back onto the bed, the mattress creaking beneath your weight. Your thighs trembled uncontrollably, hips jerking with the aftershocks of pleasure that still pulsed through your body. Tears mixed with the saliva on your face, your eyes rolling back as you struggled to steady your breath.  

But there was no reprieve. You were barely aware of your body being shifted until you felt the solid warmth of Alastor’s chest pressing against your back. His lips ghosted over the shell of your ear, the curve of his smile unmistakable as he whispered, “It seems it’s my turn to punish your ass today, dear.” 

A hot breath ghosted across your neck, and then you felt it – the blunt tip of Alastor’s cock pressing insistently against your tight ring. Your eyes widened in panic, your body instinctively tensing as a high-pitched whine escaped your lips. “T-too much,” you gasped, even though you knew what was coming. They had done this countless times, and every time, they left you wrecked – completely soaked by both their release and your own.  

“Oh, we know,” Vox’s deep voice rumbled from above, his hands bracketing either side of you and Alastor as he hovered over you. He didn’t hesitate. In one fluid motion, his thick cock drove into your slick, waiting pussy, stretching you wide with a sudden, powerful thrust. Your head fell back in a cry of agonizing pleasure, your body already trembling from the heat of it, your nerves tingling from the sheer fullness.  

“Ah, that’s it, baby,” Vox groaned, sinking into you to the hilt, his cock throbbing inside your tight walls. “You squeeze me so fucking good.” His voice was a dark, satisfied purr, every word dripping with lust.  

Bound and helpless, your wrists tied behind your back and pressed against Alastor’s stomach, you squirmed between them. Alastor’s voice was a low, dangerous murmur in your ear, his cock now teasing your other entrance. “We’re not stopping, dear, not until you’ve learned to be a good...” His tip pressed against your tight opening, pushing just inside, the pressure maddening. “Obedient...” His breath hitched as he thrust deeper, sliding into your ass in one swift, brutal motion. “Girl.” 

You screamed, the sound raw and desperate, your body overwhelmed by the twin sensations of being filled to the brim. The stretch was almost too much, but at the same time, it felt so unbearably good. Your cunt clenched tight around Vox’s cock as Alastor’s length pushed deeper into you, the two of them moving in tandem, leaving no space for you to catch your breath.  

Vox let out a guttural groan, his eyes rolling back as he revelled in the feeling of your cunt pulsing around him, the thin wall separating him from Alastor’s cock rubbing against his own. “Fuck, that’s right, baby. So, fucking tight, so fucking perfect.” He thrust harder, deeper, his hips slamming against yours as you writhed beneath them.  

Alastor’s curses were hot against your ear, his body trembling with the force of his restraint, both moving in sync as they claimed you together. You could barely think, barely breathe, your mind reduced to nothing but the overwhelming sensations of being filled, completely owned by the two Overlords who had you at their mercy.  

Every thrust, every movement drove you closer to the brink, your body unable to hold back as another orgasm built within you, threatening to shatter you all over again. They didn’t stop, didn’t slow, driving you higher and higher until there was nothing left but the raw, aching pleasure of being utterly devoured by them both.  

Vox leaned down, hips lips capturing yours in a deep, hungry kiss, his tongue invading your mouth and making you taste yourself on him. The heat of it, the slick, possessive way his tongue curled against yours, muffled your moans as his cock, along with Alastor’s, continued to ravage you.  

Their relentless thrusts filled you to the brink, stretching you in ways that had you teetering on the edge of ecstasy. Alastor’s hot breath tickled your ear, tiny, almost imperceptible moans escaping him as he pumped into you from behind.  

Your body trembled, overwhelmed. You knew you wouldn’t last long – not with the way they were fucking you, both cocks hammering against every sensitive spot inside you. The remnants of your previous orgasms still echoed through your core, heightening every sensation, making it impossible to hold back as another wave of pleasure crashed over you.  

Vox’s pace quickened, his balls slapping against you and Alastor. The rhythm between the two men dissolved into chaos, each thrust growing more frantic. Sometimes they filled you at the same time, their thick cocks stretching your pussy and ass simultaneously, and other times they alternated, the sensation driving you wild.  

Vox pulled back from the kiss, panting heavily, his lips wet with your shared saliva. His head fell back as he continued to pound into you like a man possessed. “Oh, fuck, fuck,” he moaned, his voice low and breathless. “So fucking right, both of you...feels so fucking good.” 

Alastor let out a rare, soft moan in response, his usually composed demeanour slipping. The wet, lewd sounds of your soaked pussy and their hard cocks slamming into you filled the room, the air thick with the smell of sex and sweat.  

Your head fell back, resting against Alastor’s shoulder as the orgasm built inside you, threatening to consume you whole. You screamed as it hit, your voice raw and hoarse, your body convulsing weakly this time around.  

The intensity of it shattered you, warm liquid spraying from your cunt, drenching Vox and dripping down onto Alastor’s cock. Your heart pounded, your chest heaving as the pleasure tore through you, leaving you trembling and slick with sweat, your back sliding against Alastor’s chest.  

Vox grunted, still thrusting through your orgasm, the wet sound of his cock fucking into you louder now. “Oh, fuck, baby doll, is that for us?” His voice was rough, teasing, as he continued to drive into you. “You squirting just for us?” His words sent another ripple of pleasure through you, the sensation overbearing, overwhelming.  

“Heh, Alastor, come on, I know you want to blow your load,” Vox taunted, his voice strained as he fought to hold back.  

Alastor’s breath hitched, his hips slamming into you harder, his cock stretching your ass with every thrust. “Why don’t you come first?” he rasped, his voice dark with lust. “I can smell how close you are.” 

Your body was limp, utterly spent, but they didn’t stop. Both of them pushed you further, Vox’s hips snapping against you, his movements sending delicious jolts of pleasure through your overstimulated body. The pressure on your clit, the friction, was too much, too good. You were already nearing the edge again.  

“Pl-please, I can’t, I can’t,” you sobbed, tears spilling down your flushed cheeks, your body shaking with exhaustion and pleasure.  

Vox chuckled darkly, leaning in to whisper, “Oh, baby doll, you just sealed your fate.” 

Alastor’s tongue flicked out, tracing along your cheek to collect your tears, his hum of approval sending shivers down your spine. A low, feral growl rumbled deep in his chest, and you felt him swell inside you. Your ass stretched further as Alastor’s cock grew, his control slipping as the sheer size of him pushed you to your limits.  

That was Vox’s undoing. With a strangled curse, he came firm, his hot release flooding your pussy, filling you with a deep, satisfying warmth, Alastor’s hips slammed into you with a final, brutal thrust, his cock pulsing as he followed suit, spilling his thick cum into your ass with the same ferocity. The two men groaned, their bodies trembling against yours, their cocks twitching as they emptied themselves inside you. 

The sensation of being so full, of both of them throbbing within you, sent another shiver of pleasure through your body. Your breathing was ragged, harsh, as you tried to come down from the high, but they didn’t give you a moment to recover. Their cocks softened, slipping from you, and you let out a small, breathy moan as the sensation of their hot cum spilling from both holes sent one last wave of pleasure rippling through you.  

You barely registered the binds around your wrists loosening, your body too spent to move. All you could feel was the heat of their cum dripping from you, your holes convulsing weakly as they expelled the remnants of their release. Your mind was foggy, lost in the haze of exhaustion and pleasure, the only thing anchoring you to reality being the sight of their satisfied, devilish, smirking faces.  

You were completely spent, utterly wrecked, your body trembling and slick with sweat and cum. Every muscle ached, and your mind was swimming in a fog of pleasure and exhaustion. Yet, as you lay there, barely able to catch your breath, it was clear from the gleam in their eyes—they weren’t done with you yet. 

Alastor's fingers brushed against your cheek, deceptively gentle for someone who had just ravaged you so thoroughly. His grin widened, a dark promise lingering in the curve of his lips. “Oh, darling," he cooed, voice dripping with dangerous sweetness, "you didn’t think we were finished, did you?” 

Vox’s chuckle rumbled from somewhere behind you, and you felt the bed shift as he moved, his presence hovering close. “You see,” he drawled, his voice low and teasing, “we still need to teach you a little lesson about what happens when you decide to act like a brat.” 

And as Alastor’s hand curled possessively around your throat, and Vox’s lips pressed against your shoulder, you realized you weren’t just at their mercy—you were craving it. 

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

[perdicinae-observer]

Hey dude I'm a big fan of whatever you're having right now so I just wanted to ask real quick for the future plans

Since Waterloo anniversary is coming, will you use your pussy to squirt out the English and the Prussians like how you did at Austerdt? be careful though because the Bluchussy is not a normal kind of puss and is hard to be competed unlike that Wellingtussy

Take care! 🎀

... [*sigh*] It has been approximately 201 years since I departed from the realm of the living, two-hundred-and-one. I am, to put it lightly, appalled that this message is a byproduct of the wondrous advancements humanity has made in all aspects of life.

In a life of comfort and peace― this is what you thought, wrote, and sent to me? Has common decency and manners been traded off in the name of progress? Was there not a single part of your brain that may have raised the question that, perhaps, you shouldn't ever write this to anyone? Or has common sense become a rarity to some of you― you lecherous fiends out there who lust and twist the image of my colleagues and I to fit your fantasies so publicly and without shame? It is not normal, it is obscene. This is an abhorrent assault on my eyes, sanity, and the very foundation of the human language as a whole. The men you slandered may be my adversaries in war, but they are still respectable men― this is not even mentioning the barbaric method in which you have suggested me in using my manhood for means of warfare...or whatever it is that you imagine to be in my breeches. Eugh. If I were to choose between reading this sentence aloud or being crushed by a fully-grown horse, head first into Russian soil in such a manner that General Sorbier believed me to be dead and sleeping soundly in the arms of our Lord like an infant...again; I would choose the horse tenfold and without regret. Now for the sake of all things created in the vision of God, kindly never pick up a quill again. Imbecile.

…Youth these days. I wasn't even at Waterloo...

... ...

...Did you hear laughing, boy?

The cookies... : (

[professor-ruckus]

Hi Riley i just came to the blog to ask you about what do you think of mafia you AU Form @fnaffreak3478 if you ever get a chance to go there that is they are also a simp just go to your page and you'll see why. Also if you don't know what a Simp is basically a simp do you have a crush on someone that's what simp means.

Sorry if this was a long😓

"I'm using this ask to inform you hosts that I have discovered the art form that is a 'meme'."

"I truly hope this does not come off as obscene..."

"Anywho... yes, I have seen their art of me. Frankly... I can see why it fills you all with such glee."

"I may not be an enjoyer of the arts, like my brother, but I can still appreciate the skill they put into their work."

"Though, again, all you 'simps' need to calm down, you all act bezerk-!"

"... On another note. I am seeing a lack of proper punctuation in this message you wrote."

"Please fix this, if you plan on sending another one."

"Thank you, my rant is now done."

"... Eugh- I am far too tired to rhyme right now-"

-Riley.

[congregenturanimarum]

@enoqian || LIKED the STARTER CALL

"Eugh..." The sound emerged from his throat ere he could do aught to prevent it, the obscene bitterness that now coated his tongue from the sip of coffee one in which he absolutely detested.

Truly, never would he go for anything so vile but caffeine was needed and with his usual stock of preferable teas out of reach given that he was at the Last Stand, he'd very little choice if he wanted to remain awake for long enough to get through marking the essays he had piled in front of him.

When he looks up, however, he espies another looking rather directly back and only after a moment further did he realise that said staring was likely because of his disgusted exclamation.

"Ah---" Heavens, he felt abysmally embarrassed: softened flush blossoming across features. He waves a hand, half attempting to waft his burning cheeks half hoping to simply sweep aside the situation entirely: "--I detest coffee but require the caffeine to keep on marking these and..." With a half chuckle, he turns briefly towards the Last Stand: "--the teas stocked here are, unfortunately, not to my liking."

Blue eyes gaze down as his dear fox friend and companion shifts upon his feet, enjoying his time lay within the bright sun and fresh air: 't was good he was there, for Naosont ought not be drinking too much caffeine at all, given his condition but... Peche would know if aught was amiss.

[princepsfianna]

Long boring rant about capitalism and England.

As the first hour of the morning comes. I can not think of a time when our movement has been in a sorrier state than it is right now. Aye, right at this very movement. The whole world’s been swallowed up by the capitalist beast, and there’s nae a single nation left where the folk aren’t split clean into two—proletariat and bourgeoisie. Quoting, the bold Fenian men.

"Our foes were united, And we were divided! We met and they scattered our ranks to the wind! But once more returning within our veins burning. The fires that illuminate dark Aherlow glen! We raise the old cry anew, Slogan of Con and Hugh! Out and make way for the bold Fenian men!"

it does really feel like those two verses, our foes are united and we are divided and thus we are to be scattered to the winds. Alas though our veins are burning with those fires there is just nothing to carry it. Although the contradictions of this vile, debaucherous and filthy vermin of a system grow starker and starker wi each passing day. When the wealth of the few grows to obscene amounts like the parasitical scum that they are and the many are left scrabbling in the dirt for their scraps of dogs. The cries are multiplying by the hour and wars are breeding like rats in a granary. The earth is groaning 'neath the strain of climate change. Yet for all this, for all of this there is not a single serious communist movement which stands firm anywhere on the beautiful soil of God's green fucking earth. Even in quite bleak days like 1848, 1871, 1916, 18 then 25 there was always a flicker of hope. A notion that our movement would rise again, rally the people and press on to the next fight. That it would bounce back and we would never surrender but now? There's just no movement. Worse yet? There's no hope. It seems more likely that every turn any stirrings of revolution will be brutally strangled in its crib before they can breath. We just cannot seem tae muster any strength to overturn capitalism afore we oureselves have our head cut off as we start to rise. It's looking less and less likely that we shall triumph or that we can rebirth society and much more like something akin to the common ruin of humanity. Which, in the capitalist era, is probably the extinction of human life due to nuclear war or some other manmade disaster. Eugh, I'm dooming but our movement has never been this low and I just can't carry any-out anymore hope man.

I wrote this a few days ago but I have some new perspectives. I forgot that we can't forget the bitter and long shadow of English dominion. Not only is capitalism obliterating our movement but there is a wound which has been inflicted for about a thousand years. The Gaelic tongue, vibrant once, is dead. In Scotland the Gaidhlig tongue is much the same. It has died in the throats and the lungs of those to whom that proud race one spoke of it. They are choked out, reduced to little more than whimpers of the forgotten. Our land was once a culture rich, strong and beautiful, bound together by kinship and fraternity but now is fractured. Ground and tarred under the boot of imperialism and scottish quislings. Conquered not by english steel, but english gold as 'parcel of rogues' so eloquently puts. With deceit, the slow erosion of Scottishness and becoming the tartan fool, not the kilted warrior but the drunken brawler and the fool. Not a nation of genius to which Ben Franklin once reported but a nation of drugs and corruption. Who can we blame but the so called acts of union? Their crown and civilisation which came with their laws, commerce and of course their contempt. Supported by the traitors of the lowlandic populations, of whom some supported this foreign implantation. The clearances, the famines, the broken treaties—these were not accidents of history but deliberate acts of extermination upon the Gaidhlig race in Scotland and as a part of a wider erasure of Celticness. In Cymru, Éire and Alba or in Manx the very same story was repeated. Dressed in the false guise of progress the grim reaper of England ravaged our countries and we were divided, the celtic nation was crippled, conquered and subjugated in every meaningful way. And now, we find ourselves divided, each generation further removed from the ancient ways, losing piece by piece what once made us whole. The Gaels, once proud and defiant, are scattered to the four winds, their tongues silenced, their stories half-remembered, their hearts broken. The English beast has devoured all before it, and left us with little more than the crumbs of our own heritage. We are broken, totally and utterly conquered and our culture is dead. It lies ableeding and there is no chance of a revival. What little hope was gained from the Free State is died as the Gealtacht lies weaker and on its last legs.

Our race one stood together, man for man, sister for sister, brother for brother and mother to mother. But now our nation is gone. The highlands are empty, a ecological disaster that is romanticsed in its sollitude. The earth is crying, the animals are dying on that land which was once filled with great love, great joy, great people and great ecology. Now, now thoughit's dead and I am immesurably distressed by it.

[3rdniggafromthesun]

i always have to sleep on getting into another classic rock band. be like "ok do you REALLY need to get into another group of mediocre british men or are you just bored and tired."

its like a serious decision. i also need to sift thru the tags on here to see if i vibe with what im seeing in their photoshoots. if theyre too gimmicky i cant do it, it makes me cringe. dont rlly like bands that are a lot about image and being cool or hard, idc if the music is good or the members r cute its just embarassing if theyre trying too hard to be a certain vibe.

[unidentifiedfuckingthing]

episode 1 of regular show was actually so funny. idk if that was a pilot or not but the entire show went down from there

[grimst4rs]

"how did this happen?" marlene asked, dabbing at sirius' wound with a wet cloth.

it was stained red.

sirius was sitting on the washbasin cabinet, his grey eyes flicking between marlene's hand and his bloody knee. the dim light of the bathroom fell right on his eyes, making his eyelashes look silver, and his eyes mad.

"i told you, i got caught up in a fence when i was sneaking out away from hogsmeade today."

"you might get away with lies like that when you're telling them to remus, james or peter, but not me." she didn't look at him. "i'm not fooled that easily, and i think we've done enough shit together to know when you're lying or not, sirius."

sirius covered his eyes with the heels of his palms and chuckled quietly. "you won't believe me if i'll tell you."

marlene laughed, pushing her bangs out of her eyes. "i have four brothers. believe me, nothing is actually impossible. now, say goodbye to the lame excuse of," she air-quoted, "i got caught up in a fence when i was sneaking out away from hogsmeade today, and tell me what happened."

"promise you won't laugh." he pointed a finger to her, and she noticed that his black nail polish was chipped. marlene made a mental note to give him some to fix them. "you know what? save it. don't promise me anything. i know you'll laugh either because you think it's funny or just to spite me, so there's no point in trying."

she threw her hands up, clutching the cloth in her hand. "okay, you caught me. go on."

"it is, actually, a hogsmeade escapade story."

"cut the bullshit!" she exclaimed, lightly shoving him.

"it was!" he said, laughing. "i snuck out with remus and we were snogging down an alleyway near scrivenshafts and i heard some footsteps and i could make out the sounds of my brother's expensive shoes so, naturally, i didn't want him to see me snogging some bloke, and one of my best friends, while we're at that, so we ran off, but i got caught in some bush and i fell to my knees-"

"in front of remus! obscene!"

"piss off!" he laughed. "i fell and scraped my knee."

"oh my god! you literally fell for him!" she cackled. "after you got hurt just so that you two wouldn't be caught sneaking off and with the other's tongue down your respective throats, it's gotta be obvious that, if you'd do that for him, you gotta tie the knot. you ought to marry him!" she joked, slapping him lightly with the cloth. "he's the man made for you."

"he is, isn't he?" sirius asked, a lovestruck grin spreading across his face, and marlene resisted the urge to not roll her eyes.

merlin, he was in love.

"that sounds like a cheesy, movie love story!" she fake-gagged, snickering.

"i can make it be. whatever he wants me to, whatever he wants us to be, we'll be just that. after last year, i wouldn't want to fuck up my relationship with him again."

"eugh! he's turned you soft!"

"has not! you're just jealous because i have a boyfriend and you're still single," sirius teased her, wiggling himself in her direction.

"yeah, right," she grinned, leaning against the sink as she turned the tap water on. "i'm happy for you, sirius. hope it works out the way you want it to be and that you'll be happy and married and with two dogs and three cats and all that soppy shit."

and she really wished for that, deep within her, and she looked up to him, beaming. sirius smiled back, lopsided and full of secrets.

[ibis-gt]

aaaand have a short drabble for a borrower cam au too bc Por Que No Los Dos. uhhh major spoilers for an agatha christie novel but it’s not mentioned by name so. there you go.

When Cam first came across the little cottage in the woods, he heaved a sigh of relief. A human this close to his home was a blessing. He wouldn’t have to travel nearly so far to restock on certain supplies anymore. Anything metal or plastic he needed would likely be inside those walls, and he might even be able to snag some extra food. He really needed something to help him bulk up a little more for the coming winter; mouse pelts only went so far in keeping a body warm.

When he got inside, it was better than he could have possibly dreamed. The occupant was clearly concerned with the aesthetic of the place. There were odd bundles of dried herbs and flowers hanging from the ceiling, overflowing pots of succulents and ferns and other pretty plants, cutesy leaf patterns painted on the walls and over doorways, little throw pillows with mushroom and forest designs on overstuffed furniture. The whole place was cozy and quaint and straight out of a picture book. And after he’d gotten a look at the pile of stuffed animals in the bedroom, he knew he was set for life. Whoever lived here adored cute little things, and what was cuter or littler than Cam himself? All he had to do was stroll right up to them and introduce himself, and it was the easy life from here on out.

Oh, sure, he’d heard the horror stories of humans getting their hands on borrowers. But he’d also heard the success stories of borrowers getting all but adopted by the humans that had discovered them, pampered and adored and given everything their heart desired. He wasn’t much for daydreaming, but he couldn’t deny that the hard work of survival wore on a body, and more than once he’d thought about trying to get himself a human. And now this wonderful opportunity had landed right in his lap.

Cam took out his hair clip and combed his fingers through his hair, trying to work out all the tangles, before giving up and clipping it back again. He examined his reflection in a shiny ceramic plant pot. Adjust the poncho, wipe a bit of dirt off his face, check for anything between his teeth - okay. All good. He was looking his best and ready to get loved on.

The cottage’s occupant was lying on his back on the couch with a book and a glass of water. He’d finished the water some time ago and was now thoroughly wrapped up in his book. It was a murder mystery, and he’d made frequent guesses out loud to himself about the killer’s identity. He made one now.

“Oh, the secretary must have done it,” he said.

“Actually, it was the doctor,” Cam said, from his position on the arm of the couch inches away from the human’s ear. “Unreliable narrator, see.”

The human shot upright with a scream. Cam smiled at him.

“Hi, how ya doin’. Look, I live in these woods, and gosh is it a tough time out there. Wolves and birds of prey and the nastiest rodents you’ll ever meet. Sure would be nice if someone took me in and saved me from this horrible life of - whoa whoa whoa oh sHIT - ”

Cam leapt off the arm of the couch as the book thwacked into the space he’d just occupied. He landed on the coffee table, momentum carrying him forward into a roll. He sat up and whipped around just in time to see the man holding the empty glass over his head. Cam tried diplomacy one last time.

“Hey, listen, no need for all this, I just - ”

The glass thunked over him, mercifully open-side down. The human scrambled off the couch and ran to the other side of the room, hiding behind an armchair. Cam stared in open-mouthed silence through his glass prison. That... had not gone according to plan.

Across the room, Luther sat with his back pressed against the armchair and tried to slow his breathing to a normal rate. That... had been a tiny man. A tiny man who spoke to him. A tiny man who spoke to him and spoiled the ending of the book. What the hell was that all about? Were there more of him? Oh god, what if there were more, living in his walls, scrabbling around and -

To his horror, Luther realized he could hear a faint tnk tnk tnk noise coming from the room behind him. Slowly, he dared to peer over the edge of the armchair.

“HEY!” Cam yelled, voice muffled through the glass as he pounded his fist against it. “This is not how this is supposed to go! Get back here and dote on me, idiot!”

Luther ducked behind the chair again. Nope. Nope nope nope. He would not be doing that any time soon.

For another solid fifteen minutes, Luther cowered from a man a tenth of his size while Cam yelled obscenities, banged on the glass, and cursed his stupid luck. He finally gave up and sat down, putting his head in his hands.

Luther waited. The silence continued for a moment. Then, he heard something that chilled him to the bone. The faint but unmistakable sound of glass sliding across a tabletop.

In an instant, he vaulted the armchair and dashed to where the book had fallen on the floor. He slammed the volume down on top of the glass, pinning it in place. Cam, who had had to use every ounce of strength he had to move the glass even a few centimeters, threw his hands up in frustration at the added weight.

“Great! Leave me here to die, why don’t you!” His voice cracked, going hoarse from all the shouting. He kicked the glass, only succeeding in hurting his foot, and sat down again in a huff.

Luther got down on his knees and peered cautiously in at the tiny man.

“H-hello?” He managed to say.

Cam glared at him and gave a sarcastic wave.

“Um, are there more of you around?” Luther darted a nervous glance around the room.

“Nope. Just me here.”

“Oh, that’s a relief.” Luther ran a hand through his hair. “I just don’t think I could handle more than one of you. I mean, I can barely take care of spiders, you know?”

“I believe it,” Cam snorted. Then an idea came to him. “I could, though.”

“You could what?”

“I could take care of spiders. For you, I mean. I bet you get a lot in here, right?”

Luther grimaced. “So many! Oh god, and they’ve got all those legs, and they leave those horrible webs with all those insects in them... eugh.”

“Yeah, you don’t want to have to deal with all that. You want a professional.”

“A professional?” Luther echoed doubtfully.

“Exactly.” Cam spread his arms out wide. “You want someone who can go toe to toe with them, literally! You want someone on the spiders’ level. Well, he’s right here, and available for hire for the low low price of a place to sleep and a bite to eat.”

“Hmm.” Luther considered this. He looked critically at Cam for a moment. “I bet you don’t eat much, do you?” He mused.

“And I don’t take up too much space, either.” Cam waggled his eyebrows. “Whaddya say?”

Luther paused for a moment, then said, “Okay, sure. Just don’t spoil any more books for me and you’ve got a deal.”

Cam gave a sheepish grin. “Heh, sorry about that.” He waited for a moment. Neither man moved. “Soooo... are you going to let me out?”

Luther chewed his lip. “Yes. Absolutely.”

“...When are you going to do that?”

“Right... now.”

Another long moment passed.

“Okay, but see, you didn’t lift the gl - ”

“I’m working on it! Give me a minute!”

“Okay, okay, sorry.”

They stared at each other for another moment or two.

“Buddy. This is not how I want to spend my night. Let me out.”

“AAAaaaaokayokayokay.” Luther lifted the book and the glass and shot backwards onto the couch, curling into a ball and staring at Cam. Cam stared back at him curiously.

“You are... weirdly afraid of small things.”

Luther buried his face in his hands. “I knowww,” he moaned. “I’m sorry.”

“There, there,” Cam said. “We’ll work through it together, roomie.”

[whataboutmyfries]

Why am I awake at 5:45am? Good question, goood question.

The answer is: Work. Stupid Work. Takes me forever to get there.

Buuuut I have 3 weeks off in *checks calendar* 3 weeks! & I'M SO HAPPY ABOUT IT! So much time to write!

i just re read Elitist Nightmares & I started chapter 9 today!

Okay.. Okay to be honest.. I just wrote: START WITH THIS SHIT & GET IT DONE YOU LAZY SHIT!

😂 It still counts

eugh that is obscenely early and I am so impressed with you for being able to get up that early, damn. 

BUT ALSO YAYYYYYY HOLIDAY!

(yes that absolutely does count thank you very much, you got this!) 

[stillwinterair]

I keep seeing The Last of Us Part II being described as “torture porn,” “obscenely grimdark,” “bereft of levity,” and I’m just... eugh. I don’t want that

[koskela13]

Penny/Greta: (are sleeping soundly in bed after having stayed up late last night)

Marta: (climbs onto Greta’s bed and gently nudged the two) Greta? Buckette? You awake?

Penny/Greta: (slowly start to wake up, seeing Marta in front of them)

Greta: Marta? What’s going on?

Penny: Eugh. How long did we stay awake last night?

Marta: ‘Til 2, I believe. But anyway, do you know where Rudy might’ve gone? We need him to start on his chores today, and the snake-milking machine he drew for us broke down. Again.

Penny: Wasn’t he sleeping with you last night?

Marta: Ja, but he wasn’t there when I woke up.

Rudy: (with a poorly-done high-pitched voice) Well, maybe you should check the other bedroom.

Greta/Marta/Penny: !

Greta: Did that just come from under my bed?

Rudy: No. I mean, nien. It came from me. Marta.

Marta: (jumps down off the bed and peeks underneath, where she finds Rudy)

Rudy: o_o

Marta: Hey, Liesl, I found him!

Liesl: (comes in) Wunderbar! C’mon, Rudy! That snake isn’t going to milk herself!

Marta/Liesl: (grab Rudy by the feet and start dragging him out of the room)

Rudy: (is trying desperately to get out of the girls’ grip) No! No, you can’t make me deal with that beast!

Marta: Why not? Jennifer isn’t so bad once you get to know her.

Rudy: Jennifer? HER?

Liesl: Ja. And besides, you helped Snap out when he had to milk her before.

Rudy: That was when I could use magic chalk! Now, I’ll just be powerless against that creature!

Marta: Oh, don’t be frightened, Rudy. It’ll be fun to milk the snake. AND it shouldn’t even take too long.

Rudy: (begins shouting chalk-related obscenities as Marta and Liesl pull him away and he tries to grab onto something to keep from being dragged away, to no avail)

...

Snap: (walks up to the door with a cup of coffee in hand, seeing Greta and Penny are awake) Morning, Buckette, Greta.

[itsmebilly]

-Hands you a Fleshlight-

Billy sputters out in surprise. “C- Cuh... What? Eugh.”

His bloody hands explored the fleshy object. Pocket pussy, if you will. Curious fingers dipped into the silicone. Out of nowhere, he starts laughing and swinging the thing around on his hand. Gross sounds popped and echoed in the attic.

“Oh GOD, what is this thing?! WHAT? A PUSSY?! WHAT? DISEMBODIED CUNT? WHAT?”

Snorting wildly, Billy ripped it off of his hand. Little traces of blood stained the opening. An obscene sight.

[godyouredull]

Oh, I’m In Trouble | All You Have To Do Is Fall In Love AU

Author: Sarah - @godyouredull​ Pairing: Ben Hardy / OFC Rating: T Word Count: 6.2k POV: Sarah Warnings: series warnings, aggressive frat guys Summary: Sarah makes a risky decision at a frat party and is overwhelmingly pleased with the outcome.

Masterlist found here! Series Summary: Best friends and college roommates Ben, Joe, and Gwil, find themselves tangled up with a group of girls who bring out the best (and worst) in them. Series Warnings: drinking, swearing Authors’ Note: Stories can stand alone, but it’s much better when read all together! Not everything is always in the same tense, or same point of view/perspective.

How do I always get talked into going to these things? Within 15 minutes of arriving to a frat house, whose name I never remember for more than 5 seconds, I immediately regret it. Truly the best part of going out like this is getting ready with the girls so we can come up with a game plan while blaring the same obnoxious pop music. But, inevitably, every time I step out the door I immediately contemplate walking back inside. Oh well, no use wasting a cute as fuck outfit I suppose. And hey there’s free alcohol, right? Right.

“Hey!” Ella snaps me out of my thoughts, “You’re not gonna leave early tonight, are you? I hate when you do that.”

“No,” I sigh dejectedly, “I’ll stay long enough to get drunk but seriously Ella, as soon as you have a target in sight, you tell me, okay?”

“I know, I know. I won’t abandon you without warning.” She says as she links her arm in mine. “NOW, let’s get drinks.”

We walk arm in arm out to the back deck, where the ever flowing amount of alcohol seems to always be, accompanied by the obnoxious shouts and whoops of the household residents. It’s the usual scene: beer pong table, keg, random lawn chairs and a good amount of handles on the dirtiest table you’ll see in your life.

“Alright well, what’ll it be? Lukewarm beer or liquor without a mixer?’ I ask in the most enthusiastic voice I can muster.

“Complain all you want. You’re not paying for it, are you?” She’s got a point. I’m still trying to decide if it’s worth it though. “Stop complaining and tap the keg.”

“I love it when you get demanding.”

“You have no idea.” She says half laughing.

“Alright, pipe down. There’s options out here.” She begins to scout the talent while I look around for the tap. How has this keg not been tapped yet?

“Whoa. They’re kind of cute.” She points to a team of guys playing beer pong. They are cute. The one with darker hair is definitely the more outgoing of the two, getting way too excited when he makes the next shot with ease. His partner though, has blonde hair and seems to just be along for the ride, maybe even sober.

“They’re alright.” I say, trying to play it off. At the same moment, the blonde looks around the yard, clearly getting bored with the beer pong game. When his eyes land on me, though, he doesn’t look away but… neither do I.

“He’s staring at you.” I hear Ella whisper. Of course, I’m aware of this as I’m blatantly staring right back. Damn, he’s good looking. “Go talk to him.”

“No, no. He’s a frat dude, Ella. You know that’s not my thing.” I finally tear my eyes away from cute blonde boy to focus on the task at hand: keg tapping. As I line the notches of the tap with the hole of the keg, a voice stops me.

“Need some help with that?” Some part of me hopes it’s cute blonde boy, but when I look up, that hope disappears. It’s not cute blonde boy, just another generic frat guy.

“Uh, no thank you. I can handle it.” Now go away.

“You sure? No offense but these things have a tendency to explode whenever a girl tries to tap it.” Jesus. Where the hell is Ella?

I scoff and contemplate punching him. Instead, I screw the tap into place and push down, sliding it into place. Grabbing a solo cup, I pour myself a pint and stare at this douchebag straight in the eye until the cup is completely full.

“Nope, I think I got it.”

“Wow, impressive.”

“Okay, I’m walking away now.” I manage to take about two steps before I feel his grip around my elbow.

“Whoa, whoa. Hang on a second.” He spins me around so I’m facing him again. Maybe I am going to punch someone tonight. This is truly the last time I come to a frat party.

“I have to go find my friend actually. She was right next to me a second ago.” My eyes scan the room, searching desperately for Ella who I may or may not need to come rescue me from this asshole.

“What’s your name?” He asks, ignoring my previous statement.

“Could you not grip my arm when you’re talking to me?” I try to twist my arm out of his grip but he’s unfortunately much stronger than I am.

“Someone ought to teach you some manners, sweetheart.” His lips are inches from my ear and I immediately push him off.

“You’re one to talk you fucking assho— “

“HEY,” Another voice chimes in, “Pretty sure she doesn’t want to talk to you, mate.” Holy shit. It’s cute blonde boy. He’s stepped in between me and the jackass, arm held out in front of me as if to create some kind of protective barrier. A couple bystanders have begun to notice the situation and watch to see if these guys start throwing fists.

“Alright, whatever, she’s all yours.” The jackass walks away with his hands up in surrender. Thank God. If there had really been a fight I’m not sure what I would’ve done.

Once he’s gone, cute blonde boy turns around to face me.

“Hey, hear that? How kind of him to hand me over like that. We were really hitting it off too.” I say sarcastically. He laughs.

“You okay?” Whoa. He’s got a deep, British accent.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Thank you for that. I wish I could say that’s the first or last time that’s bound to happen.”

“It’s not something you should have to get used to.” He sounds genuine. Interesting. “I’m not sure why I keep coming to these parties. All these guys are the worst.”

“You’re not one of them?” The plot thickens. He looks slightly offended at the question.

“Do I come off as one?”

“Well, it’s hard to say.” I can’t help it; I smile. “We just met.” He smiles back.

“Right, yeah. That’s fair.” He looks down and brings his fingers up to his bottom lip and pinches it between his thumb and pointer finger. Damn he’s cute.

“And you do have that classic frat look, you know? Kinda hot, kinda douchey.” He looks up again. Shit.

“So you think I’m hot?” Damn.

“And douchey, lest we forget that part.” I say as I accusingly point at him. He doesn’t respond, just laughs. His eyes are so green. I’m staring again. Okay, take a sip of your beer, Sarah.

“Eugh. That’s a little too lukewarm for my taste.” I say as I set the cup down on a nearby table. Which is partially true but mostly I’m just trying to keep the conversation going.

“Well, we could always go somewhere else.” He suggests.

“Uh, well I think this is pretty much the extent of the drink choices.” I say, gesturing to the disgusting table with various handles. Maybe I will just switch to liquor if I’m gonna spend any more time with cute blonde boy.

“Oh, no I mean we could get out of here. Leave the party.” He says casually.

“Whoa whoa, easy. I don’t even know your name.” He’s already asking me back to his place?

“NO n—I didn’t mean... like we can find a bar or take a walk or something.” He stutters through the suggestion, his cheeks turning a bit pink. I stay silent and smile at his slight embarrassment. “I’m Ben, by the way.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Ben. And I actually would love to leave this place.” Where the HELL is Ella? “Have you seen my friend though? She was standing with me earlier.”

“Earlier? Like when you were shamelessly staring at me playing beer pong?” His tongue sticks out of his mouth ever so slightly as he smiles and it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. My jaw drops.

“Excuse me! I’m pretty sure it was you staring at me.”

“Sure, sure.” He mumbles.

“Plus you were barely even playing. Your friend seemed to be carrying most of the weight there.” I accuse him.

“Yeah, well I get bored at these things easily, hence my wanting to go somewhere else.”

“These parties do get old quick, I’ll give you that.” I pause, looking at him intently while wondering if I’m really gonna leave with a man I just met. He did just save me from a frat douchebag and for some reason I find myself trusting him.

“So, are you really up for ditching it?”

“I really am. Let me just find my friend first and let her know.”

We both do a quick scan of the room before finding her engrossed in a game of pong. She’s in her element. A couple of guys are watching her as she downs a beer like it’s no problem.

“Ella!” I walk towards her, Ben following behind me.

“Sarah! Be my partner! We could destroy these assholes.”

“You’re not wrong but I actually came to check on you. I think I’m gonna head out.”

“What?! You’re leaving?”

“Well,” I look behind me to make sure Ben isn’t too close. “Remember that blonde guy who was staring at me earlier? I’m leaving with him.” Her eyes widen. She steals a glance at him, standing a good length away talking to another one of his friends.

“Well, damn girl.” She looks at him again.

“Ella, stop! Don’t be obvious.”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself.” She’s still looking in their direction. “Who’s his friend? I think he’s in my philosophy class.” I follow her gaze to see Ben talking somewhat intensely to another tall, dark haired guy who looks way too sophisticated to be at a frat house.

“I don’t know. He’s cute though.” I admit. She continues to stare at the friend, eyebrows slightly raised.

“I’ll say.”

“Alright, down girl.” We laugh. “Are you good? Will you be okay without me?”

“Yeah! Go be with surfer boy.” She clears her throat. “He’s coming. Be cool.” We both adjust our stance so we’re standing up a little straighter.

“You ready?” Ben is suddenly right behind me, hand on the small of my back.

“Yeah let’s go.” I turn back to Ella. “Hey! Call me if you need me.” She nods and makes obscene gestures as I walk out with Ben.

“Her name’s Ella?” He asks.

“Yeah, why?”

“My mate was just asking me about her. Thinks she’s cute or something.” I laugh knowingly. Looks like Ella’s in for a good time tonight too.

“Wait, before we leave…” I stop him from walking any further.

“What?”

“Wait here. I’m gonna steal a handle.”

“You’re gonna—what?” His accent is so strong. Even the way he says ‘what’ is hot.

“Wait here!” I exclaim as I walk back onto the back deck. Tonight wasn’t the night to wear a velvet crop top. Looks like I’m gonna improvise. Doing another quick scan of the options, I spot a larger handle of Fireball on a small table in the corner. That’ll work, but how will I hide it? Can’t hide it. Alright, Plan B then.

Grabbing the handle as quickly as possible, I tuck it under my arm and speed walk to where I left Ben.. Grabbing his hand with my free one, I urge him.

“C’mon let’s go!”

“Wait wha—I—okay.” He stutters but follows my motions as we briskly walk out of the house as fast as we can without looking too suspicious. Luckily, it’s a mess inside the house so if anyone notices, they don’t stop us. We make it out the front door and he’s laughing in a confused manner, our hands still linked.

“Mission accomplished.” I say, holding up the Fireball as we walk down the street.

“Fireball? You smuggled Fireball.”

“The classics never go out of style, Benjamin.” I defend my liquor of the choice.

“It’s just Ben.”

“It’s not.”

“What do you mean it’s not?” His voice raises an octave but he chuckles.

“If we’re going to be friends you’re gonna have to get used to me calling you by your full name. It’s my thing.”

“You’re really gonna call me that?” He says in mild disbelief.

“Only in certain situations.” Now I’m laughing. This whole situation is weird. I’m walking down a random street, holding hands with a guy I just met, with a handle of Fireball tucked under my arm.

“You know I still don’t know your name” He points out.

“Uh... They call me Trixie on the weekends.” I joke, not sure if I should really give him my real name.

“Wait wh— “

“Yeah it’s a tough line of work but the money’s good.” I say as deadpan as I possibly can. He stops walking.

“Are you joking?” His eyes squint a bit as he asks. I take this opportunity to drop his hand and open the Fireball, taking a swig as I start laughing.

“Yes,” He shakes his head, “But you almost believed me, didn’t you? I like that. I’m Sarah.”

“I think I’m still gonna call you Trixie.” He’s still shaking his head but he starts walking again. “Pass that over.”

“I think I’m more of a Trixie, honestly.” I say as I hand him the bottle. I want to hold his hand again but that’s weird, right? Probably not a good idea. If I’m being honest what I really want to do is jump him right here in the street but that’s definitely weird. Don’t wanna come off too strong.

“I’m gonna hold your hand again, okay?” He declares, catching me completely off guard.

“Works for me.” I exhale as he links our fingers again. Thank God it’s so dark outside because I am absolutely positive I’m blushing.

“So, Trixie,” He drags out the name. I’m already regretting that bit. “Where to now?”

“Well I think we’re set on drinks,” I say motioning to the full handle, “So, let’s just keep walking? See what we find.”

“Works for me.” He almost whispers. How is one person’s voice so deep?

“Much better than a frat party, right?”

“Well, I don’t know. One good thing came from that party.” He smirks.

We’ve been walking down this random street for a while now and I’m extremely glad I decided to take an Uber to that damn party instead of drive. I’m also glad I wore converse instead of the uncomfortable flats Michaela suggested. It’s been about an hour and Ben’s managed to cover a fairly wide range of topics. He’s not in a fraternity, though one of his roommates, Joe, is, hence his attendance at tonight’s party and quite a few others. He’s studying acting and drama in school and he moved to the U.S. because he thought it would give him a better chance at being successful in the business, but he misses home a lot and travels back as much as he can. Despite being incredibly attractive, he doesn’t seem to use it to his advantage which means my first impression was wrong. He hasn’t let go of my hand nor has he made any attempt to take things much further. Refreshing and I guess kind of infuriating because the more he talks, the further I do want to take it. Damn the brits and their tendencies to be perfect gentlemen.

“Are you hungry at all?” He asks.

“I could eat, yeah.” Oh right, forgot to mention that I haven’t eaten since before the party and I’ve now drank a significant amount of Fireball. I’m playing it off though. I think.

“I only ask because you’re stumbling a little.” Okay, maybe not.

“Right, well this sidewalk isn’t paved very well.”

“I’ve heard Fireball can do that. Put cracks and bumps into pavement and whatnot.” He says sarcastically.

“Benjamin. Was that a joke? You’re making jokes at my expense now.” I accuse as I put my hand on my chest like a 19th century Southern woman. He shrugs.

“I’m just trying to keep up with you. Which is becoming easier because you’re, you know, stumbling.”

This is good, us bantering like this. Everything feels light and a bit less real so there’s no pressure. I find myself hoping we continue this for the rest of tonight. Maybe even tomorrow morning. Damn he’s already got me breaking my rules? Not good. Or maybe good? Ugh.

“Well if you would drink your share of the Fireball, we wouldn’t have this problem.”

“Sarah, it’s Fireball.”

“Oh god, sorry there were no mojitos for me to swipe.” His drink of choice, as I had learned. “I’ll make a mental note for next time.”

“Next time? You plan on stealing alcohol from a frat party again?”

“I think you could talk me into almost anything, Benjamin.” He blushes at this and stutters a little bit, like he’s thinking about what exactly he wants to talk me into. Good.

“Except I didn’t talk you into this! You did that all on your own.”

“Uh huh. Good luck finding someone to believe that. From what I’ve seen, you’re quite the troublemaker.”

“You’re ridiculous.” He shakes his head while smiling. Have I mentioned how much I wanna jump him? Damn I’m tipsy.

“You mentioned food. You have something in mind? Because I don’t even know where we are.” I admit. We’re definitely still in the same neighborhood as the frat house because all we’ve passed are houses but I’m hoping, since he apparently frequents that frat house, he has an idea of what else is around us.

“I know a place. Come on, drunky.” He pulls my hand in the other direction and I briefly lose my balance, using his shoulder to steady myself. We’re inches away from each other, his green eyes directly in front of my face. “Sidewalk trip you up again? Someone should really repave this.” Before I can even respond, he turns away and starts walking again.

I exhale shakily and follow him, weak in the knees for a brand new reason.

“A taco truck?”

It was another fifteen minute walk to get to our destination: a food truck that Ben apparently frequents after he’s been out all night. It’s parked in the middle of a nearby town center that I know I’ve been to before but never found a reason to go back.

“It’s really good, I promise.”

As we walk up to the counter, he lets go of my hand and puts it on the small of my back, leading me to look at the menu. To be honest, I’m not really that hungry but I know I should eat because I don’t want to stop drinking but I also don’t want to keep making a fool of myself.

“I’ll just have whatever you’re having.” I say looking at the menu. He’s looking at me though, rubbing my back with his thumb. I can’t honestly be expected to be focused on food when he’s touching me like this. The fucker.

“You trust me then?” He asks innocently.

“Well you did save me earlier tonight so that means you’ve earned my trust.”

“I won’t let you down.” He winks. I go to grab the Fireball that’s in his other hand but he holds it away from me, just out of reach. “Oh, no. You’re eating first.” We’re standing face to face now.

“Stop teasing me then.” I whisper.

“Can’t handle it?” He whispers back. That’s it. I lift my face, about to kiss him.

“What can I get you guys?” The truck owner comes out of nowhere. We both jump back from each other. Dammit.

“Uhm.” Good. He’s flustered too. “Four chicken tacos and two waters, please.”

“Both of those waters are for him. He’s been drinking all night. Needs to sober up.” I say to the truck owner. Ben looks at me accusingly.

“I have not been--”

“C’mon Ben you’ve been gripping that Fireball for hours. You’re not fooling anyone.”

The truck owner laughs, glancing down at the half empty handle in Ben’s hand. I can see how bad he wants to deny it but he doesn’t. Just stares at me in disbelief as I remain completely stagnant. Keep teasing, baby. Two can play.

“Four chicken tacos, coming up.” The man says, still smiling as he walks back to the kitchen.

“Cheap move. You’re not getting away with that.” Ben says once he’s gone.

“I certainly hope not.” I say, stepping a bit closer to him, looking up at him through my lashes. I link my finger through his belt loop and pull him closer to me. “Do something about it.”

“Christ.” He curses, looking away. “We’re in public.”

“Aw. Can’t handle it?”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he scoffs and bites his lip. He lifts his hand and cups my face, stroking his thumb against my cheek. His eyes flit to my lips and I swear he’s about to kiss me but again, he doesn’t.

“I can handle it.” He whispers. I swallow, trying to control my breathing.

My heart is slamming against my chest and I have to clench my thighs together. His effect on me is unbelievable but I know he feels it too. We’re inches away but I can’t bring myself to react. I just stare into his bright green eyes, quickly down to his lips and then back up to his eyes. His thumb is still rubbing my cheek and I contemplate bringing it to my mouth.

“Here you are. Four chicken tacos and two waters.” I blink repeatedly and step away from Ben, shaking my head trying to clear my impure thoughts.

“Thanks, mate. Sarah, will you grab them?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry.” I stutter. Ben smirks, knowing my inability to focus is because of what just happened. He pays the truck owner, telling him to keep the change.

“C’mon, let’s go.” I expect him to hold his hand out for me to take, but his are full and so are mine. Damn. Now how am I supposed to walk straight?

“Let’s sit here.”

After continuing to walk around for a while, Ben has led us to a local park in the neighborhood we were in earlier. We’ve managed to revert back into normal conversation and bantering, not acknowledging the turn of events at the food truck. We haven’t eaten yet but I can feel myself sobering up a bit, as I have to keep forcing myself to focus on the words Ben is saying and not thinking about what he’d look like between my thighs.

“You know this area pretty well. You bring a lot of girls around?” I joke.

“Ha, yeah. Deserted parks in the middle of the night are my go-to date spot.”

“It does have a certain ambiance, I suppose. If you’re, you know… a serial killer.” He sits on the bench and laughs pretty loud. The sound gives me that same feeling in my chest from earlier and I wonder if I’ll ever get tired of hearing it.

“I honestly don’t have a response to that.” He’s still chuckling. “But I’m definitely not a serial killer.”

“Good to know.” I say as I sit down next to him.

We sit in silence for a bit, both of us just eating our tacos and drinking the water. It’s not an uncomfortable silence though. It’s serene, like we’ve known each other for years and are simply enjoying being near each other for the first time in a while. He looks out at the park ahead of us and I find myself staring at him again. My eyes wander from his sharp jawline to his full, pink lips to his messy blonde hair. He’s so goddamn beautiful and I’d bet anything he doesn’t even have to try.

“You’re staring again.” He finally speaks.

“Yeah I am.” I don’t even deny it. He’s gonna have to get used to it.

“What are you thinking?” He asks, still looking away from me. Hm, to be honest or no? I could tell him exactly what I’m thinking right here and now. But no, it’s too easy.

“I’m wondering why you haven’t given me back the Fireball yet.” He laughs, again. Nope, I’ll never get tired of hearing it. He reaches down to pick up the fireball and hands the bottle to me. I unscrew the cap and take a fairly sizable swig.

“Alright take it easy, Trixie.”

“Well, you drink some!” I say as I offer the bottle back to him.

“I’m okay, babe, really.” My breath hitches at the nickname. “I do have a confession to make though.”

“Oh?” Is this it? I don’t know how I feel about fucking in the middle of a public park but hey I guess there’s a first time for everything.

“I smoke cigarettes and I’m feeling the urge to light one right now but I don’t want to if it’ll make you sick or uncomfortable. Do you mind?”

“Usually, yes but I’ll make an exception for now.” I really thought he was going to ask to fuck in a public park? Jesus. What’s wrong with me?

“Because I’m hot?”

“AND douchey. Will you let that go?”

“Never.”

He removes a carton of cigarettes from inside his jacket pocket and takes out two, putting one between his teeth and the other behind his ear. It’s hot, but not as hot as his fingers expertly flicking the lighter and then him taking a long drag, blowing out the smoke as he exhales.

We sit in silence for a bit again. Him continuing to smoke his cigarette and me taking swigs from the handle. I’m torn between wanting to hear his voice again and wanting to sit in the comfortable silence. It’s impossible to look away as he continues to take drags from his cigarette. I know how bad it is but fuck if he doesn’t look irresistible doing it. If he notices, he doesn’t mind but the more I drink, the more antsy I get.

“How long have you been smoking?” I ask, deciding I want to hear his voice again.

“Too long.”

“Have you ever tried to quit?”

“Yeah, it’s not as easy as they say.”

“Well, here I’ll help you.” I take the cigarette out of his hand and take a drag from it. He watches in shock. I know he’s expecting me to cough but I don’t.

“You smoke?”

“Sometimes.” I admit, taking another drag.

“Holy shit.” He says under his breath. I then throw the cigarette on the ground and step on it, effectively putting it out. “Hey! That wasn’t quite done yet.”

“I know. I said I’d help you quit, remember?” He stares at me in disbelief.

“You’re…” He starts, not able to find the words.

“I’m… what?”

“Something.” He says finally.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Benjamin.”

“I wish you’d stop calling me that.”

“Never.” I repeat his statement from earlier.

Hours have passed and we’re still sitting on this damn park bench, talking about anything and everything. The craziest part is that I don’t think either of us ever made a solid effort to go home or get the other back to their place. No, the subjects have been limited to favorite movies, books, our families, an explanation of our tattoos, and even a brief discussion of male celebrity crushes. He’s put his hand on my knee a few times and I’ve found excuses to occasionally put mine on his chest and shoulders but still, we keep our hands to ourselves.

“What time is it?” I ask, finally coming to the realization that it’s starting to get light outside. He takes his phone out for the first time that night, which reminds me that I haven’t checked in with Ella or Michaela. Shit.

“Whoa. It’s 6:30. I have class in two hours.”

“Oh my god.” I don’t mean to say it outloud but I can’t help it. “We’ve been out all night?”

“Disappointed?”

“No,” I smile, “definitely worth it.”

“Let’s get you back then.” He stands and offers his hand.

He’s kind enough to order an Uber back to my place, having me dropped off before he goes to class. We’re riding in silence in the back of the car, his hand on my thigh the whole way back. I really might combust but it’s probably too soon to ask him to finger me in the back of an Uber.

“Ben?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for this. Seriously, between saving me from that jackass and feeding me when I’m drunk I had a really, really good time.”

“Me too.” He smiles, and squeezes my thigh. Seriously, is it too soon? I could move his hand a little further north and we’d be good to go.

“Here you are!” The driver announces. Ben gets out first, walking around to my side and opening the door for me. Such a gentleman. I can definitely work with that.

“One second.” Ben tells the driver, signaling him to wait and then walking me up to my door. “So...” he starts.

“So...” I respond.

“We should do this again.”

“This exactly?”

“Well, no.” He laughs. There’s a lull.

“I’d invite you up but--”

“I’d accept.”

“Skip class.” The words are out before I can stop them.

“Wow. You’re a bad influence.”

“Sorry.” I laugh. “I thought that had been established.”

“I wish I could but I can’t today. We’re doing monologues.”

“Another time then?” I know how needy I sound but I really can’t help it.

“Of course.” He brings his hand up and cups my face again. I decide that this time I’m not taking a chance, if he’s not going to do it then I will. I fist his t-shirt in my hand and bring him to me, crashing his lips onto mine. He’s still for a second, obviously surprised, but his lips slowly begin to work against mine until they’re moving in perfect synchronization. He moves his hands down to my waist as mine work their way into his hair, lightly fisting his blonde curls. And it’s perfect. All of it. His lips are so soft and his quiet moans are fueling my every movement, desperately trying to be as close to him as I possibly can. It’s so perfect that when he pulls away I actually, verbally whine.

“God, I wanna stay.” He whispers, still inches away from me.

“But you can’t.” He brings his hands back up to cup my face and kisses me quickly one more time.

“I want to.” He insists.

“I believe you.” I laugh. “Here, give me your phone.”

He takes his phone out of his back pocket and hands it to me. I put my number in under ‘Trixie’ and hand it back to him.

“Trixie.” He smiles at the name.

“Text me, okay?” I say as I start to walk into the doorway.

“Wait.” He stops me by grabbing my hand and kisses me again. He tries to make it quick but I put my hand on the back of his head, holding him in place and deepening the kiss. He moans against my mouth and it might be the one sound I love more than his laugh. His hands are around my waist again for one second until he pulls away. “Oh, I’m in trouble.” He sighs, his forehead resting against mine.

“Go to class.” I say lightly pushing his chest away from me.

“See you later, babe.” He winks as he walks away and gets into the Uber.

I close the door behind me and lean against it for a second, fisting my hair in my hands and shutting my eyes closed tight.

“FUCK.” I yell to no one in particular.

“Sarah?” I recognize Ella’s voice before I see her come out of her room. “Did you just get back?

“Yep.” I admit, my hands still in my hair as I exhale obnoxiously and smile.

“Damn, that good?” She asks.

“We didn’t fuck.”

“Oh... then... What’s up with you?”

I start from the beginning, telling her the whole story and leaving absolutely no details out. Of course, as soon as I’m finished, Michaela walks out of her room. She takes in the scene; me completely flustered and Ella literally on the edge of her seat.

“Um… What’s going on?”

“You are never skipping another party.” Ella responds.

“And he’s BRITISH? Like he’s actually British?”

“Yes, Mic for the 800th time he’s really, actually British. Or he’s an expert at faking accents.”

The three of us had moved to our dining room where I proceeded to tell Michaela the entire story. Ella gets just as excited as she did the first time, sometimes even stopping me at certain parts.

“THIS is the best part oh my god, yeah.”

“UGH I love this.”

“I still CANNOT believe he really did that, wow.”

So, yeah. It’s been an eventful morning of excited storytelling and obsessing over Ben’s teasing and British-ness. At some point, Michaela asked me for his last name which I realize I never got, but that doesn’t stop Ella from pulling out her laptop and trying to find him on social media anyway. Since she’s an expert who should probably work for the FBI, it doesn’t take her long.

“FOUND HIM.” She squints at her laptop screen. “Ben Hardy.”

“Hardy? That’s fitting, I guess.” I say as I pull my chair up next to hers. Mic brings hers to the other side, so we’re all collectively stalking his facebook page.

“Oh my GOD.” Mic exclaims. “THAT’S him?!”

Ella has his profile picture pulled up and yes, it’s a very good photo of him. I get that feeling in my chest again just looking at his picture. Damn him.

“Yes,” I laugh a bit. “That’s him.”

“Sarah, you are absolutely fucking with me.”

“I am NOT fucking with you! That’s really him!”

“He’s so HOT.” She emphasizes the last word. I put my head into my hands, hysterically laughing.

“I TOLD you.” Ella chimes in as she continues scrolling through his tagged photos. “Hey, that’s his cute friend I saw… and that’s his beer pong partner.” She points to a photo of four boys sitting very close in what looks like a dorm room, Ben on the bottom right.

“Did you end up talking to him?” I ask.

“No, I never got a chance to.”

“Oh, bummer. Ben said he thought you were cute.” I share. She stares at me accusingly.

“He what?! And you’re just now telling me this?”

“Well... I...”

“Who’s his beer pong partner?” Mic ignores us, pointing to the auburn haired boy in the photo. Ella clicks on the picture so the tags show all of their names.

“Oh, Joe. That’s his roommate who’s in the fraternity.” I repeat Ben’s words.

“He’s…” Mic starts but trails off. Ella and I look at her, wide eyed, waiting for her to finish.

“Cute? You can say it, M.”

“He’s… yeah. He’s cute, fine.” She admits, crossing her arms and huffing. Ella and I smirk knowingly at each other. “Oh, fuck off.” She curses at us.

“Gwilym.” Ella says out of nowhere.

“What?”

“That’s his cute friend’s name.”

“Who also thinks you’re cute.” I tease her.

“I’ll have to decide what I’m gonna do about that.” She flips her hair and smirks. Ella’s a master at her craft and I smile, excited to watch her work on this Gwilym. As for Joe, well I’m definitely hatching a plan to get him and Mic in a room together.

At that moment, my phone buzzes, breaking me out of my mental plan making. A text from a number I don’t have saved shows.

“I know she only works on Saturdays but is there any chance Trixie is available tonight?”

It’s Ben.

“Guys.” I get my friends’ attention and show them the text.

“TRIXIE, oh my GOD. I’m going to cry.” Michaela exclaims, causing me to burst into laughter once again. I’m so giggly at everything he says. How fuckin’ lame.

“Are you gonna see him again?” Ella asks.

“I think so.” I admit, trying to think of something to respond. I save his name in my phone as ‘Benjamin’ and type out:

“I suppose she can make an exception for this very special case. It just so happens I have mojito ingredients at my place.”

Since both of my friends are looking over my shoulder as I type, Ella chimes in.

“You’re gonna bring him here?”

“Should I not?”

“Well… you’re definitely getting laid tonight.” She accuses, sticking her tongue out. I look at Mic for confirmation and she shrugs.

“Not necessarily.” I try to deny it but I definitely knew what I was doing. “Is this bad? I’m a slut.” They both laugh.

“We been knew.” Ella says.

“I won’t make it too easy.” I defend.

“You better not be referring to my mojito ingredients.” Mic chimes in. I don’t respond because I definitely was but I’ll run out and get my own. Maybe. My phone buzzes again. He responds quick, I like it.

“Well, it’s hard to say no to that. I’ll come by around 7?”

I type out a quick confirmation and send him our address, just in case he didn’t save it from this morning.

“It’s a date. See you then, gorgeous. Xx”

I read his response and smile like a goddamn idiot. My friends ask what he said so I show them. Their faces light up the same way as mine.

“Use protection.” Ella warns.

“Or, you know… don’t.” Mic suggests.

“MIC!”

Ella slaps her shoulder at the same time I burst into laughter again. Her breeding kink is bound to get one of us in trouble eventually.