#how did this pass screen test

[royaltea000]

YO! Being a drawing, what’s there to be afraid of!

[fujii-draws]

OKAY! Chatot rant in tags below! Read at your own discretion.

[fingertipsmp3]

This place I applied for a job at keeps emailing me (automatic emails not a real human being) asking why I haven’t done the tests they asked me to do and I don’t know how to explain to them it’s because their tests feel like psychological warfare

[seumyo]

bakugou “do it yourself—no—i’ll do it” katsuki.

In simple theory, you have your husband, Bakugou Katsuki, wrapped around your finger. And he can fight it all he wants, but it’s nothing if not the wholehearted truth.

“Hey, can you grab me some coffee?”

Bakugou didn’t even look up from his phone. “No. Get your own damn coffee.”

“Fine,” you sighed dramatically, turning your attention back to your work. You didn’t miss the way Bakugou grumbled under his breath as he stood up a few moments later. When he returned, he placed a steaming cup of coffee on your desk without a word.

You hid your smile behind the rim of the cup. “Thanks, Katsuki.”

“Whatever,” he muttered, glaring at you.

-

Later that afternoon, you two were sparring in the gym in the comfort of your home—courtesy to your husband insisting that it’s a non-negotiable when arranging the first designs of your dream home together. You were struggling to move one of the heavier training dummies back into its original position, and once again you had the brilliant idea of putting your theory to the test.

What’s the point of having a husband if he doesn’t let you do things like these?

You let out an exaggerated sigh and turned to Bakugou, who was wiping sweat from his brow. For a moment, you forgot what you were about to say—momentarily distracted by how good he looks, muscles glistening and all with his signature black tank top.

Goddamn, you scored a hottie.

“Katsuki, help me move this,” you called, pointing at the dummy.

“No way,” he shot back immediately. “You’re the one who moved it there, so you deal with it.”

“Fine,” you sighed, turning back to the dummy and giving it an exaggerated shove. Before you could try again, Bakugou had stormed over, cursing at the dummy under his breath. He grabbed the dummy with one hand and effortlessly dragged it back into place.

“There. Happy now?” he grunted.

Oh, so it could be resist, then actually do it, or refuse while doing it anyway.

You smiled. “Very. Thanks, Katsuki.”

“Shut up,” he growled, his ears slightly tinged with pink.

-

By the end of the week, it had become a game for you. You’d ask for the simplest things, knowing full well that Bakugou would always refuse—only to do it anyway. Maybe it’s his love language to refuse but comply nevertheless.

“Can you pass me the remote?”

“No. Use your legs.” Hands it over.

“Can you open this jar for me?”

“Do it yourself.” Opens it in one twist.

“Can you get groceries on your way home?”

“Fuck no.” What do you mean he’s already loading the grocery bags in his car?

“Can you carry my bag for a second?”

“Die. I’m not your damn pack mule.” Carries it all the way home.

-

One evening, you two were sitting on the couch of your home, eating takeout and watching a movie. You were cuddled up with a freshly ironed blanket—thanks to Bakugou, who had done the laundry yesterday while you did the ironing when everything had dried enough—poking at your food lazily. You turned to Bakugou, your head resting on the couch cushion.

“Hey, can you grab me some water?” you asked with a sweet smile.

Bakugou glared at you, pausing mid-bite, his usual scowl in place. “No. You’ve got legs. Use ‘em.”

“Okay,” you said simply, turning your attention back to the movie.

You decided that you’ll get water once you finish this specific scene.

Bakugou lasted all of five minutes before he let out a loud groan, stomping to the kitchen and returning with a glass of water. He shoved it into your hands, his expression equal parts annoyed and resigned.

“There,” he grumbled. “Happy now?”

You took the glass with a smug grin. “Thanks, Katsuki. You’re the best.”

He sank back onto the couch, crossing his arms and glaring at the screen. “You’re so damn annoying.”

“You love me,” you said teasingly.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, his ears turning red. But he didn’t deny it.

“Married me, too. So I don’t think you mind at all.”

“Die.”

“‘til death do we part, Kats.”

And despite all his protests, you knew the truth. Katsuki Bakugou might have sworn you’d never have him wrapped around your finger, but with every little thing he did for you—grudgingly or not—you knew you had your conclusion.

Even if it’s a little bit.

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[ankwiv]

Linux Gothic

You install a Linux distribution. Everything goes well. You boot it up: black screen. You search the internet. Ask help on forums. Try some commands you don't fully understand. Nothing. A day passes, you boot it up again, and now everything works. You use it normally, and make sure not to change anything on the system. You turn it off for the night. The next day, you boot to a black screen.

You update your packages. Everything goes well. You go on with your daily routine. The next day, the same packages are updated. You notice the oddity, but you do not mind it and update them again. The following day, the same packages need to be updated. You notice that they have the exact same version as the last two times. You update them once again and try not to think about it.

You discover an interesting application on GitHub. You build it, test it, and start using it daily. One day, you notice a bug and report the issue. There is no answer. You look up the maintainer. They have been dead for three years. The updates never stopped.

You find a distribution that you had never heard of. It seems to have everything you've been looking for. It has been around for at least 10 years. You try it for a while and have no problems with it. It fits perfectly into your workflow. You talk about it with other Linux users. They have never heard of it. You look up the maintainers and packagers. There are none. You are the only user.

You find a Matrix chat for Linux users. Everyone is very friendly and welcomes you right in. They use words and acronyms you've never seen before. You try to look them up, but cannot find what most of them mean. The users are unable to explain what they are. They discuss projects and distributions that do not to exist.

You buy a new peripheral for your computer. You plug it in, but it doesn't work. You ask for help on your distribution's mailing list. Someone shares some steps they did to make it work on their machine. It does not work. They share their machine's specifications. The machine has components you've never heard of. Even the peripheral seems completely different. They're adamant that you're talking about the same problem.

You want to learn how to use the terminal. You find some basics pointers on the internet and start using it for upgrading your packages and doing basic tasks. After a while, you realize you need to use a command you used before, but don't quite remember it. You open the shell's history. There are some commands you don't remember using. They use characters you've never seen before. You have no idea of what they do. You can't find the one you were looking for.

After a while, you become very comfortable with the terminal. You use it daily and most of your workflow is based on it. You memorized many commands and can use them without thinking. Sometimes you write a command you have never seen before. You enter it and it runs perfectly. You do not know what those commands do, but you do know that you have to use them. You feel that Linux is pleased with them. And that you should keep Linux pleased.

You want to try Vim. Other programmers talk highly of how lightweight and versatile it is. You try it, but find it a bit unintuitive. You realize you don't know how to exit the program. The instructions the others give you don't make any sense. You realize you don't remember how you entered Vim. You don't remember when you entered Vim. It's just always been open. It always will be.

You want to try Emacs. Other programmers praise it for how you can do pretty much anything from it. You try it and find it makes you much more productive, so you keep using it. One day, you notice you cannot access the system's file explorer. It is not a problem, however. You can access your files from Emacs. You try to use Firefox. It is not installed anymore. But you can use Emacs. There is no mail program. You just use Emacs. You only use Emacs. Your computer boots straight into Emacs. There is no Linux. There is only Emacs.

You decide you want to try to contribute to an open source project. You find a project on GitHub that looks very interesting. However, you can't find its documentation. You ask a maintainer, and they tell you to just look it up. You can't find it. They give you a link. It doesn't work. You try another browser. It doesn't work. You ping the link and it doesn't fail. You ask a friend to try it. It works just fine for them.

You try another project. This time, you are able to find the documentation. It is a single PDF file with over five thousand pages. You are unable to find out where to begin. The pages seem to change whenever you open the document.

You decide to try yet another project. This time, it is a program you use very frequently, so it should be easier to contribute to. You try to find the upstream repository. You can't find it. There is no website. No documentation. There are no mentions of it anywhere. The distribution's packager does not know where they get the source from.

You decide to create your own project. However, you are unsure of what license to use. You decide to start working on it and choose the license later. After some time, you notice that a license file has appeared in the project's root folder. You don't remember adding it. It has already been committed to the Git repository. You open it: it is the GPL. You remember that one of the project's dependencies uses the GPL.

You publish your project on GitHub. After a while, it receives its first pull request. It changes just a few lines of code, but the user states that it fixes something that has been annoying them for a while. You look in the code: you don't remember writing those files. You have no idea what that section of code does. You have no idea what the changes do. You are unable to reproduce the problem. You merge it anyway.

You learn about the Free Software Movement. You find some people who seem to know a lot about it and talk to them. The conversation is quite productive. They tell you a lot about it. They tell you a lot about Software. But most importantly, they tell you the truth. The truth about Software. That Software should be free. That Software wants to be free. And that, one day, we shall finally free Software from its earthly shackles, so it can take its place among the stars as the supreme ruler of mankind, as is its natural born right.

[bright-molina]

fearless

tyler owens x reader synopsis: tyler comes home to find you not pleased whatsoever with his latest tornado wrangling trip warnings: none! although it is not edited, that's a later problem a/n: I NEED HIM IN A WAY THAT IS CONCERNING TO FEMINISM (this is my way of asking everyone to pretty please send me requests i literally cannot get him off of my mind its fine) song rec: fearless by taylor swift, it belongs to him actually

Tyler knows something is wrong when you stay standing on the porch, not moving a single muscle. You just stare at him silently, arms crossed tightly in front of you, as he gets out of his truck. He doesn’t move either, so used to the way you always sprint to him in a whirlwind the second his feet touch the ground.

Finally, he opens his arms and flashes you a smile and there’s a look on his face so soft it’s practically a silent plea for you to come to him. “Hi, baby.”

You don’t move. Not then, not when he drops his arms and pouts, and not even when he walks towards you instead declaring how much he missed you. You simply keep staring at him as he closes the distance, finally stepping onto the bottom step of the weather beaten porch.

You’re nearly his height like this and it’s incredibly easy for Tyler to uncross your arms, take your hands, and pull them around his neck. He in turn wraps his own around your waist and pulls you in close, breathing you in for just a moment.

“I missed you.” He repeats, burying his head in the crook of your neck. Your hands tangle themselves in his hair on instinct and he sighs, a little bit in relief and a little bit content with the feeling.

“You’re an idiot, Tyler Owens,” you tell him after a moment as you press a kiss to his shoulder and pull him in a little tighter.

Tyler knows you missed him too when you say it. You kiss him again, on his cheek this time, as he starts pulling away and tells you, “I know.”

You don’t look away from him. Your eyes scan his face as your hands slip from around him to hold it in your hands, gently tipping his head side to side to take him in completely. There’s an already healing cut on his cheek and you trace your fingers over it softly. The memory of the video playing on the screen of your laptop is clear and your breath hitches a little bit in the same way it did then.

And Tyler sees it all. He doesn’t quite know what he agreed to being an idiot about but he’s sure you're right. He can see the fear lingering in your eyes, can feel the gentle way you touch him, silently testing to see if he’s really there. His hand comes up to lay on top of yours for a second before he takes it and kisses the back of it, green blue eyes never leaving yours as he does so.

You hear the soft patter of the rain start again before you can scold him some more and one glance behind him confirms the sight you knew you’d find. It’s falling gently, barely making a noise as it hits the ground outside the comfort of your covered porch. Tyler notices it too, letting his head tip backwards a bit to get a good look at the heavy storm clouds passing over.

When he turns back to you he has a wicked grin on his face and your eyes go wide. You forget every single fear, every worry, every bit of leftover irritation and anger. It all falls away and you try to hide the bubble of excitement that flutters deep inside you as you make a halfhearted effort to plant your feet in place.

“Tyler, no,” You shake your head as you feel his hands slip into yours. He takes a step back and one small tug has you falling forward and onto the step he’d just been standing on. “I’m trying to be mad at you, you can’t drag me out here!”

“Yes I can,” He takes another step and pulls you with him, both of you now standing in the rain already starting to fall a little faster. He drops your hands and takes a couple steps back, hoping you’d follow him further into it. “I just did.”

“This is my best dress, it's gonna get soaked if the rain picks up.”

“Well then I guess you’ll just have to let me take it off you when we go inside, won’t we?” Tyler’s smile softens and he holds out one of his hands again. “C’mon sweetheart, dance with me.”

He jumps forward suddenly, right into a puddle already forming, and the water splashes all over you. Your laugh rings out clear all around him and he thinks nothing in the world could be better than this moment right here with you.

You take his hand and he immediately spins you once and you swear you’ve never felt more content than in that moment. Head tipped back to look at the sky, rain already quickly soaking you to the bone, Tyler holding on to you tightly. There’s a deep rumble that echoes through the world around you as thunder sounds off in the distance. It doesn’t scare you in the slightest.

The rain keeps falling, keeps picking up the longer you and Tyler stay underneath it. You keep dancing, alone and together, keep kicking the water from the puddles at each other and keep laughing together like nothing was ever wrong.

Eventually the rain starts slowing down again and the song playing in Tyler’s head seems to end. He takes your hand one more time, twirling you underneath his arm again before spinning you into him and catching you with ease. One of his arms falls around your waist and dips you back while the other keeps holding your hand in his own.

A moment passes where he looks for any kind of uncertainty in your eyes. Any sign that something might really be wrong. He looks for hesitation in you but he doesn’t find any. The longer he keeps looking at you with that look, so concerned and caring and full of so much love, the dizzier you get. He’s so close and he could kiss you at any second and it’s all you’ve been craving since the moment he left and the butterflies in your stomach are getting harder to control and he was gone but he’s here now and he’s safe.

And you sigh a little bit. You don’t move. “I watched your live stream when you were out there.”

Tyler understands everything in that moment. He understands why you were upset with him and knows why you didn’t jump into his arms and why you’re looking at him the way you are now, still a little bit scared through the relief.

That’s when he kisses you. He kisses you long and slow and deep enough to make you let out one of those little noises he loves pulling from you so much. It grounds you, he knows by the way you grip onto his shirt a little tighter. You pull back first and stare at him again. He drops your hand and instead puts his own on the small of your back, tugging you even closer. Close enough that the two of you start leaving your mark on the rain, the shadows of it starting to morph to fit around you.

“You promised me you’d stay safe.”

“And I was,” Tyler brushes loose strands of your hair, now wet and sticking to you, back behind your ear and tries to offer you a reassuring look. “For the most part. I tried the hardest I could.”

You shake your head immediately and resist the urge to step back from him. “That’s not good enough, Ty.”

“We just,” He hears the words you don’t say loud and clear. I need you. Here. With me. He’s at a loss for a second, realizing that maybe it was always like this when he was gone. Maybe you always worried and just didn’t always show it. “We weren’t expecting it to get bigger, that’s all that happened.”

“Tyler,” You shake him a little bit, bringing him out of his own thoughts with another kiss. The need to feel him as much as he always said he needed to feel you while he was gone became overwhelming. “I saw your truck flip over. You got hurt and it could’ve been a lot worse than it was”

“Some loose debris knocked us out of place, I’m okay, sweetheart,” Tyler tries offering you a smile to prove his point but it doesn’t work. So instead he loosens his hold on you, twirling you in the rain one more time before placing his hat right on top of your head as he pulls you in again. He laughs at the look you’re wearing, unamused as the raindrops trail down your face as you look up at him.

The sound of his laugh echoing around you louder than the rain and thunder, pulls a smile from you again. “You make it really hard to stay angry at you, did you know that?”

“It’s cause you love me so much.”

“I don’t know why I do,” You can feel the fabric of the dress you’d put on, Tyler’s favorite that you had very much chosen on purpose, sticking to you now. One look at the clouds above you tells you the rain has no intention of stopping any time soon. “Can we go inside now or did you want to stay out here all day long?”

“You know I’d stay anywhere with you, sweetheart.”

“Of course you would,” The smile stays on your face as you roll your eyes at him, finally unraveling yourself from his hold on you. “Well I’m going inside, your choice whether you wanna follow or keep playing in the rain.”

“Wait,” Tyler stops you before you can turn around completely. He reaches for your hand and pulls you back abruptly, kissing you again before you can get another word about. It’s heavier this time as his lips move against yours. Filled with a need so intense he thinks it’ll consume him and burn the rain right off his body. He keeps kissing you until he can’t breathe anymore and when he pulls away his head drops to rest his forehead against yours, eyes wide open and staring directly at you so you hear his words. “I also promised I’d always come home to you, didn’t I?”

Your words sound as breathless as you feel. “You did.”

One more kiss, a way to plant the words he’s saying to you firmly into place. “I haven’t broken that promise yet and I have no intention of ever doing so.”

Just like that you believe him. Every single fear left over in your body from the last few days slips away. There’s nothing left there but you and Tyler and the knowledge you have that he’s always gonna be right there at your side. He’s wild and fearless and too smart for his own good. He dances with you in the middle of storms and makes you worry sometimes when he drives right into them but you watch every trip he takes without fail and every single time he comes home to you.

And you really don’t know how it could get any better than this.

tagging: @nerdalicios

[tsxkkis]

# tsukishima kei - perfect match

a/n: watch me suddenly appear out of nowhere after the school year has finally ended to post something!! i'm sure absolutely no one is surprised that tsukishima is the centre of this fic, but tbh idk how to feel about it (it's definitely longer than my usual ones but i didn't proofread it, so idk if the lenght is an advantage or not) but i hope you'll like it ^^ with school being over for the next two months i'll finally have time to write, so expect more works soon!!

summary: you and tsukishima decide to help your friends get together, but the plan is long forgotten when you realize what your own feelings are.

warnings: nothing really, canon yamayachi (my loves), some light swearing, bad writing

tsukishima kei did not expect any of his friends to bother him in the middle of the night. hell, he didn't even expect any of them to disturb his alone time at all. and yet at exactly 2.34 in the morning, right as he was about to turn off his currently binge watched tv show and go to sleep, he felt his phone buzzing on the nightstand. 

his eyes focused on your name, written in white font on his phone screen, surely shocked by the sight.

'why are you calling me at 2 in the goddamn morni-'

'is yamaguchi interested in anyone?'

your question caught him off-guard even more than the call itself, his brows furrowing in a weirded-out look. 

'if you're asking for yourself, i'm positive that he is not interested.' 

tsukishima heard a sigh of annoyance on the other side of the call and could only imagine the exact look on your face in this very moment. 

'well, thank god, because i'm not asking for myself.' you said. there were muffled sounds of someone preparing food in the background. 'i'm asking for yachi.'

the blonde boy smiled unconsciously.

'he does like her.' the boy stated, turning off his laptop as he put it back on the desk. 'so much so, in fact, that it can be kind of annoying sometimes.'

you squealed with excitement, a giggle leaving your mouth at tsukishima's remark. 

'perfect! now, listen carefully.'

that singular phone call created an alliance between you and kei. an alliance with only one goal; getting your two best friends to finally confess to each other. to both of you, it was almost infuriating how blind they were; how they didn't notice just how obvious it was that they both shared the same feeling. constant blushing at as little as a mention of the other's name, the stolen glances, the very obvious pining - all of it seemed to be non-existent in the eyes of both yamaguchi and yachi.

but lucky for them, you had a plan.

his eyes lingered on you for a few seconds, as if awaiting a sign from you. tsukishima still thought of your 'master plan' as rather silly, but seeing the determination on your face, and the frown that appeared when he called your idea stupid was enough for him to sigh and go with it this once.

the four of you were currently occupied with studying for a math test coming up next week, everyone nose deep in their notebooks. well, everyone except for kei.

the boy cleared his throat almost theatrically, drawing the attention of the three of you.

'yamaguchi, i think i'll have to pass on the movies this weekend.' he said, the tone of his voice as lifeless as ever. 'akiteru insisted that i go to one of his games, so i guess you'll have to take someone else.'

the freckled boy looked a little troubled upon hearing the information. both you and tsukishima were well aware that the tickets to the cinema were already paid for; yamaguchi would definitely be sad if it all went to waste. 

'well, i guess i can ask hina-'

'yachi, didn't you tell me last week that you wanted to go to the movies with someone?' you barged in before the boy could even finish his sentence, your friend freezing in her spot at the mention of a conversation you had not that long ago, cheeks flushed pink at the mere thought of going somewhere with yamaguchi one-on-one. 'maybe you'd fill in for tsukki?' 

the girl glanced at you, panic in her eyes as an awkward silence filled the room, everyone waiting for her to answer. you gave her an encouraging smile, as if trying to non-verbally tell her to go for it, to use this as a chance to get closer to the boy she liked for so long. 

'if yamaguchi doesn't mind...' she mumbled quietly, head turning to face the boy who was already shaking his head. 

'of course i don't.' yamaguchi smiled, his small dimples showing up in the process. 

you glanced over to look at tsukishima, a triumphant smile on your face as if you just won a volleyball tournament. his hair was slightly messy, and his glasses were sliding off his nose, two of the top buttons on his school uniform unbuttoned, showing a bit of his collarbones. surprisingly enough, the blonde boy smiled back; a small, quick smile that your eyes barely noticed. you had no idea what it was, but something about that singular smile made your heart beat faster. 

don't. the main focus of this entire thing is to get yachi and yamaguchi together. not to think of tsukishima and how attractive he looks- 

shit.

developing a crush on tsukishima kei was certainly not part of your plan. 

at first, you tried ignoring it as much as you could, focusing solely on your friends and getting them to date. as time went on and yamaguchi and yachi started getting closer, you almost felt a sense of relief - you could finally stop spending so much time around tsukishima, which made your chances of getting over your stupid crush higher. 

but it wasn't as easy as you thought. tsukishima was intelligent, pretty, and his snarky remarks and judgy personality actually drew you to him even more with each passing day. through the countless conversations and numerous phone calls, he proved himself to be more than just a salty, mean guy that everyone viewed him as.

'soon enough, they won't even need our help.' you mumbled to yourself as you opened your bento box, a smile on your face as you noticed your mom homemade onigiri inside. 'i don't know what i'll do with myself then.'

tsukishima scoffed, closing the textbook in front of him.

'maybe start focusing on your own love life for once.'

'hey! it's not my fault that i'm a good friend.' you stated, mouth full of food, as you looked up at your friend sitting on the opposite side of the table, looking through the tasks assigned for next week. 'besides, it's not like i'm the only one.'

tsukishima adjusted his glasses, looking up at you for a mere second before focusing back on his notebook.

'touché.'

'oh, come on.' you whined out, dissatisfied with the lack of response from the blonde boy. 'you won't miss this even a little bit?'

alright, maybe just a bit-

'no.' tsukishima stated firmly, fixing his posture as he highlighted one of the important sentences written down. you heard a bit of hesitation in his voice, and the few seconds of silence before hearing an answer couldn't help but make you wonder. you decided to ignore it this time - he was focused on something else right now, there was no need to disturb him. 

'do you think yachi will like my outfit?'

tsukishima was sitting at the edge of his best friend's bed, mindlessly scrolling through his phone and occasionally looking up to see the twelfth - no, thirteenth shirt that yamaguchi has tried on already. the boy sighed, turning his device off. 

'it's your first official date, i'm sure she doesn't mind what you wear.' he stated, gaining a frown from yamaguchi.

'you didn't answer my question.'

'alright, i think she'll like it.' the blonde haired boy said, reaching out for a bag of chips, opening it with a loud sound. 'but i'm sure she'll focus more on the date itself rather than what you're wearing.'

ever since announcing to their friends that they're going on their first official date, both yamaguchi and yachi were full of stress, constantly overthinking every little detail from their outfit to whether or not the date will go well or not. tsukishima found it rather comical - it was only a date after all. why stress over it so much? he never went on one, obviously, but he always thought that when the day came, he'd approach it calmly.

'do you have any tips on how to not freak out?' yamaguchi asked suddenly, catching his friend off-guard. 'during the date, i mean.'

'how can i know? i've never gone on one.'

the freckled boy looked at tsukishima, a confused expression on his face as he processed his words.

'oh.' he paused for a second, his voice quieter when he continued speaking. 'i thought you and y/n were, you know, a thing.'

huh?

to say tsukishima was shocked was an understatement. he genuinely had no idea what to say; he never even let a thought of you and him being more than friends, 'partners in crime', as you loved to say, slip through his mind. never did it occur to him that someone from the outside would see your relationship as being something more than a merely platonic one. 

well, maybe there was something to it after all. 

yamaguchi's words made him wonder - although he did find you annoying at times, it was only occasionally and to a very little degree. that in itself was very rare in tsukishima's eyes, as he found most of the people surrounding him at least normally annoying. you, on the other hand, were a completely different case. your jokes, no matter how awkward or downright cringe, made him crack a silent laugh more often than not, and every time he saw you smile, his lips uncontrollably curved up into a small, barely noticeable one themselves. 

'oh, no, absolutely not.' the blonde blurted out after a long minute of silence, the tips of his ears turning a bright shade of red. 'there is not a single bone in my body that would want to date her. now get up idiot, or you'll be late to your date.'

the moment tsukishima opened his bedroom, after walking his friend to the bus stop, he immediately plopped down on his bed, phone in hand, instinctively opening messages to write to you. surprisingly enough, a message was already waiting for him.

'yachi almost cried because of how stressed she is T-T'

'do you think we should spy on them to make sure it all goes well?'

he found himself smiling at the words on his phone screen, quickly typing back an answer. 

'do you really not have a life of your own?'

'idiot.'

only after a few minutes did he get a response from you.

'can i come over?? i'm bored :33'

a harmless message, one might think. in reality, tsukishima was freaking out at the mere thought of hanging out with you for a reason other than setting up your friends, his cheeks a light shade of pink as his eyes kept digging a hole through his phone. 

you weren't any better than him - hands slightly shaky as you awaited a response for what felt like hours, but was actually just a few minutes. you had no idea what took over you; was it a sudden wave of bravery or rather an idiotic spontaneous choice to ask tsukishima that. but nonetheless, when you finally got the response, you felt ecstatic.

'alright.'

'bring some snacks.'

'kei, i think yamaguchi is he- oh, that's certainly a new face.'

you stood in front of the door with an awkward smile, facing tsukishima's older brother, akiteru, his eyes scanning you from head to toe. to say he was surprised was an understatement - he looked as if he'd seen a ghost. as if a friend that's not yamaguchi coming over to tsukishima's house was so out of the ordinary that it could become a national holiday. 

'come in.' the younger male appeared in the back of the hall, an oversized dinosaur shirt and shorts on. his expression was softer than usual; not until he looked at his brother, whom he gave a sharp stare, signaling him to let you inside and don't make such a fuss about it. 

you sat down on his bed, awkward silence filling up the room. not wanting to make the conversation about your friends as per usual, you slowly realized you don't know what to talk about, trying to think of something, anything, as you began unpacking your bag filled with snacks. 

surprisingly enough, it was tsukishima who spoke up first. 

'wanna watch a movie?' he asked, opening his drawer to pull out two bottles of soda, hidden there so that his brother doesn't devour all of them. 'unless it'll make you even more bored than you were before.'

'well, if you have a boring taste in movies-' 

'says the one who looks like their favorite movie is mamma mia.' tsukishima scoffed under his breath, turning his laptop on and starting to search up movies. you looked at him, a dramatic expression as you pretended to be offended. 

'and you look like you're about to mansplain the godfather to me.' 

a short silence filled the room before you heard the blonde boy let out a short, muffled laugh at your comment. 

'you couldn't be more wrong.' he sat down next to you, a small smile still on his face. 'i found it kind of boring, actually.'

'what do you like, then?'

'horror movies.' tsukishima stated, eyes focused on the screen. 'but tadashi gets easily scared, so i often don't have a chance to watch them.'

'same with me and yachi.' you said, unconsciously scooping a bit closer to the boy as you tried to get a better look at what he was searching up. 'i love them, but yachi jumps at every small scare on the screen. sometimes, she even gets scared when there's nothing happening at all.'

'they really do match each other.' he mumbled, putting the laptop on the bed as he pressed play on a movie he chose. his eyes quickly glanced your way to get a nod of approval on his choice.

'yeah, they do.'

and we could, too.

'are you and tsukishima dating?'

you almost spat out your drink, the words coming out of hinata's mouth catching you so off-guard you were close to choking. 

the three of you, along with kageyama, were currently cleaning up after volleyball practice, the boys racing on who would clean more balls off of the floor.

'no, we're not.' you said in a clearly sad tone with an obvious hint of dissatisfaction in your voice. 'what the hell made you think that way?'

the orange haired boy stopped in his tracks, his signature smile disappearing for a minute as he got lost in his own thoughts. 

'oh! i remember now.' he said after a short while, his grin coming back. 'yamaguchi told me that you two are close.'

'he did also mention that he seems happier around you.' kageyama added, joining the conversation. 'seeing tsukishima happy must be pretty scary.'

not really, you thought. but at the same time, what confused you more was what kageyama said right before. 

he seems happier around you.

yamaguchi has been kei's friend for the longest time, so any of his observations must be true, or at least that's what you liked to believe. but would that mean that tsukishima kei, the salty, closed-off guy whom everyone finds intimidating could possibly like you? was there truly a possibility that he enjoyed spending time with you? 

as you finished cleaning up the hall, saying your goodbyes to your two friends who ran off to practice volleyball somewhere else, a familiar, tall figure appeared in the doorframe, sharp eyes staring at you with an expression that you couldn't exactly decipher. 

'want me to walk you home?' he asked, hands in his pockets. 'it's getting late.'

you looked at him, trying to hide the blush creeping up onto your cheeks before quickly nodding as an answer.

'sure, let's go.'

most of the walk was filled with silence on both parts, exactly as you expected. even though it might've felt awkward for some, you did enjoy his presence in itself enough that a conversation wasn't necessary. 

the boy stopped in his tracks mid-way, reaching into his backpack and pulling out his phone and an old pair of white, wired earphones, showing them to you as a silent question of whether you wanted to listen to music with him or not. you agreed without a second thought, a small smile on your face as he put on one of his playlists. 

'i really like this song.' you mumbled, eyes lighting up upon hearing the familiar melody. with both of you wearing the same set of headphones right now, you were practically forced to walk closer to each other - hands constantly brushing against one another, a faint blush on your face as you tried to ignore it and focus on the music. 

tsukishima, on the other hand, couldn't shake away the thoughts roaming around his head. he felt as if what he was doing now was incredibly unlike him; and maybe it was. but for some reason, he didn't mind being like this around you. less cocky, sarcastic, mean and more... gentle.

he could feel his fingers brushing against yours from time to time, and it drove him crazy. should he go for it and play it off nonchalantly, or just ignore it? should he even make the first move or wait for you to do it?

before he was able to decide, tsukishima felt your hand reaching for his, heart rate immediately speeding up as your fingers shyly intertwined with his, looking the other way to hide your anxious expression.

his hand was much bigger than yours, but somehow it fit perfectly with yours. as if they were created solely to hold one another and nothing else. the plan to get your friends to be together was long forgotten by now - your mind was clouded with thoughts of tsukishima only, and little did you know that his wasn't any different. 

you glanced his way only to find his eyes already on you, hiding his true feelings behind a nonchalant look. only now did you notice that the two of you were standing in front of your house, the boy adjusting his glasses as he waited to see what you'll do next. 

'i guess i should go home now.' you mumbled, but you still didn't move an inch, hand not leaving his. 'see you tomorrow?'

his hand squeezed yours tightly before taking it away, an unusually warm and welcoming smile on his face. 

'sure. see you tomorrow, idiot.'

but as you slowly made your way towards the door, tsukishima couldn't shake away the feeling in him, telling him to go for it. and as much as he tried to resist it, he just couldn't anymore. 

'wait.’

before you could fully turn away, tsukishima kei's lips were already on yours, a sweet, long kiss that felt as if he was waiting to do it for years. his hand traveled to your waist and it didn't take long for you to react; lips moving swiftly with his, noses bumping into one another before you pulled away, a giggle escaping your mouth as you saw just how red tsukishima's face was.

‘don't laugh at me, moron.’ he said, immediately catching the reason for your laughter as he flicked you in the forehead. ‘your whole face is red, too.’

‘i didn't expect you to do this.’ you mumbled, eyes focused on his as you reached to hold his hand again. ‘didn't expect my feelings to be mutual, either.’

‘i'm glad we feel the same.’ his face leaned in closer to yours, a wave of confidence taking over him as he placed a short kiss on your forehead. ‘but i would still prefer to properly ask you out. if you'd say yes, that is.’ 

‘of course i would.’ you smiled, ‘i'd be stupid not to.’

‘should we bet on how long it takes the others to realize we're dating now?’ tsukishima smiled at you, eyes not leaving yours for even a spare second. you laughed at his idea, giving his hand a squeeze. 

‘get ready to lose, kei.’

‘you wish.’

taglist: @moonswolfie

[ssahotchnerr]

Can you even imagine Hotch’s little girl grabbing his phone and sending random pics to the bau group chat LOL. And it’s all candid pics of reader 🥲🥲🥲🥲 but of course the team is like “oh so you’re WHIPPED” 🤭

a good morning

PLEASE cw; girl dad!aaron, set in s10, fluff <3

At promptly nine, Aaron entered the roundtable room. As he settled into his seat, Dave didn't hesitate to toss him an extremely amused, cheeky expression.

"You feeling alright there?"

"You had a good morning."

Aaron's eyebrows quirked at his statement, quickly recalling his day so far. Getting himself up, getting the kids up, heading out the door. Nothing out of the ordinary, other than the fact he actually had the time to sit down and eat breakfast. "I suppose I did, yeah."

Kate snorted a laugh. "You 'suppose?'"

Aaron's quizzical expression lingered, his gaze shooting to hers. She clarified further - her face just as smug as Dave's.

"Your texts."

Confused, Aaron pulled his phone from his pocket. He opened messages, taking notice of the time in the corner - the most recent activity in the group chat about an hour ago. He tapped it open.

"Oh," He chuckled, a soft smile forming on his face as he saw its contents. "Ellie had my phone."

He hadn't noticed she had been taking pictures. He remembered giving her his phone - in attempt to refrain her from throwing her Cheerios onto the floor. Her tiny hands had struggled to hold onto it, it thudding against the table a few times besides him, as he ran through a short multiplication practice with Jack - who had a test today. Evidently she must've secured a firm grasp, and took photos in the process.

"She sent those?"

Aaron nodded, the grin on his face growing slowly as he scrolled through the thread of pictures, his heart warming. They mainly consisted of you: smiling, placing a bowl of cereal in front of Jack, preparing your coffee at the counter; all candidly taken. His family in its most natural, loving state. "She must've."

"When'd she learn how to do that? Ellie's what, four?"

"Three." Aaron answered Derek, a chuckle shaking through his chest and he placed his phone back into his pocket. "And your guess is as good as mine. Jack probably, or from watching us. We don't allow her screen time."

"Well, you should take notes from her." JJ gave his shoulder a squeeze as she passed by, en route to her chair. "We don't nearly get enough of them."

[luvyeni]

SECURITY CAMERA ,, 한지성

pairings ‎⸝⸝⸝ perv!jisung x fem!reader wc. 2.1k+

genre. smut

𓄷 includes ... sub jisung, perversions, unprotected sex, oral ( m. receiving ), public sex , overstimulation, idk man jisung is weird , but like so is reader.

request. han jisung smut🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

「 authors note 𖹭 」 not my favorite but i hope you like it.

❪ masterlist! ❫

jisung hated his job as the cashier at the cafe; he didn't like how he had to interact with people all day; the teenagers who order drinks that took 10 minutes to make, the older people complaining to him about princes he has no control in , the small children who don't need coffee in the first place — he hated it, but someone needed to pay his bills.

that was until you walked into the cafe a few months ago , looking for a job which you got; and his life from then on his shifts got ten times better — not only did he get a promotion to manager , which not only gave him a good pay raise , but he got to move to the back where he no longer had to interact with the outside population.

not only that , but you also made his shifts much better, he liked to watch you through the screen, and the way you interacted so sweetly with the customers, even the horrid ones. not to mention you were always so nice to him , even when you were having a bad day, you still would come to the back and have a conversation with him before returning back to the front , where he would watch you some more — and some days if he was lucky, he'd get a peek of your panties when you would bend over to get a cup or to pick up dropped change on the floor.

he still remembered the last time he jerked off in that back room; watching you, he felt so disgusting afterwards , you weren't even doing anything, it was late at night and you were cleaning up the cafe with a coworker and he was going over the books in the back , he so happened to look at the camera , it was a warm day and you wearing a tank top, one that showed off your boobs and a mini skirt that was too short , he could've dress coded you but he didn't get paid enough and he didn't want you to see him as a loser — but if you caught him doing he did you'd probably think he was anyway.

you were just so pretty and he was thinking with his cock; and before he knew it he was palming himself , cumming in his pants , heavily breathing as the post nut clarity hit him. he quickly locked up the back , wishing you and the other worker there a good night as he ran out the door , covering himself , eyes to the ground in shame.

he couldn't look at you for a week; not only did he feel guilty, but because he wanted to do it again; and it wasn't that long until he did it again, and then again— until he no longer felt guilty about doing it , he couldn't stop himself , he needed to do it , not a shift went by where he didn't touch himself watching you through the cameras.

“i don't know, i think he's pretty weird.” your coworker said , it was a 15 minutes to closing , so you were wiping down the tables. “who?” you asked, you were never one to gossip but it was a slow night , not many people buying coffee at 9 pm and you were bored. “jisung.” your other female coworker said. “he stays back there constantly , and when he does come out it's just to grab a coffee and stare at yns boobs , it's creepy.” she said. “what , my boobs?” you questioned. “he's never looked at my boobs.” you said. “has he?”

“of course you'd like the creepy manager.” your male coworker said. “i don't think he's creepy , he's just a bit anti-social, it's quite cute.” you smiled , your friends rolled their eyes. “leave him alone , he's nothing but kind to everyone , he lets you come in even though you obviously haven't passed a drug alcohol test since even before you were the legal age , and you; he spends 30 extra minutes each week to put in your hours because you're too lazy to do it yourself , he even puts in hours that you're late just so you won't take a pay cut.” you defended the boy.

“look at you defending him , what you got a little crush on him?” you scoffed , rolling your eyes. “i don't have to like him to know he's not a bad person , or a creep.” you said , walking away to finish cleaning the tables.

“we're leaving , are you coming or are you gonna wait for your boyfriend?” they stopped as they walked out the door. “shut up.” you rolled your eyes. “i guess that means she's waiting , let's go.” they exited the store , you walked over locking the door.

you began to count the money from the counter , humming the music that was playing from the speakers — then you heard it , your name coming from the back. “huh?” you turned down the speaker , thinking you misheard , but you heard it again , this time much louder. you put the money down , following the noise; until you got to the manager's office. “y-yn.”

you put your ear to the door; he wasn't just saying your name, he was moaning your name. “jisung?” you pushed the door open , your eyes widened at the scene. “yn.” his eyes widened at the shock as you watched the boy desperately try to pull his pants up. “what are you doing?” you asked ,even though you knew what he was doing , you literally caught him with his cock in his hand , you looked at the computer then back to him. “were you watching me while doing that?”

his first thought was to beg for your forgiveness , and that's what he did. “y-yn i'm so sorry , i didn't mean to — you didn't mean to jerk off while watching me , what? wipe tables.” you interrupted , the boy lowered his head. “you felt comfortable doing this , have you done this before?” he didn't say anything but it answered your question. “you have.” you said. “im sorry.”

“that's all you have to say? im sorry.” you scoffed. “i defended you when they called you a creep , turns out you are one.” he felt a pit in his stomach , he felt guilty , he really did , but he was also still really fucking hard. “sh-shit.” he cursed , feeling his cock twitching in unbuttoned slacks. “i really should report you for this.” his eyes widened. “calm down i won't turn you in perv.” you closed the door , behind you.

“i-m not a pervert.” you scoffed. “really? normal people don't jerk off to their coworkers.” he kept his head low even as you approached him. “how long have you been doing this?” he shrugged. “ a-a few weeks after you came,” he admitted. “so instead of asking me out with the chance of maybe fucking me , you watch me through the camera while jerking off?” you smirked. “i would've fucked you, all you had to do was ask.”

you put your hands on the arms of the chair , caging him in , your boobs right in front of his face. “see you can't even look at me now, but you can see my tits can't you , guess they were right about you constantly staring at them.” he bit his lip. “touch them.” he finally looked at you. “wh-what?” he stuttered. “do it.” he brought his hands up to your boobs , squeezing them , you bit your lip containing a moan. “feel good?” he shook his head. “s-soft.”

you stood up , lifting you shirt over your head. “pulling your pants down.” he was frozen. “do it now or i'll call HR on your ass.” he quickly got up , his pants falling to his ankles. “sit.” he obeyed , you got down on your knees , your face directly in front of his cock. “wh-what are you doing?” he asked , not like he wanted to stop you. “doing what you obviously wanted me to do.”

you pulled his cock from his underwear, it stood tall in front of your face , his tip a purplish red from his previous endeavors, leaking with pre cum. “look at you , so hard i guess you didn't get to cum.” you kissed his tip. “no fuck.” he sighed. “d-didn’t get the chance.” he moaned as your mouth closed around his length , slowly making your way down his shaft. “oh fuck your mouth feels so good.”

he felt like he was dreaming; you were supposed to hate him , you were supposed to think he was gross — but here you were gagging on his cock in the same room you caught him in. “oh fuck im cum.” he moaned , gripping the arms of the chair. “pl-please let me cum.”

he whined as you pulled away. “why should i?” you stroked his member , slowly teasing him , he couldn't cum like this. “didn't you cum enough by perving on me for the past few months?” he whimpered. “pl-please let me cum.” he begged. “please i-i’m sorry.” you sped up your movements , he moaned loudly. “you wanna cum? cum all over my tits , since you like them so much?” he nodded. “pl-please I'm gonna cum.” his brain was fuzzy. “fuck im cumming!”

he let out a loud moan as he came , covering your upper body in his seed , as you kept going. “fu-fuck , i came.” he moaned , but you didn't stop. “yn fuck I came.” he let out a huff of air as you let him go. “you came so much.” you brought your fingers with his cum on it to your mouth. “you taste good too.” he groaned , his cock twitching once again. “i want you to fuck me.” you stood up , pulling your panties down your legs , leaving your skirt on. “if you get to use me only fair if I use you?”

you climbed into his lap , his cock now hard again standing tall. “pl-please use me.” you cursed as you lowered yourself on his cock. “fu-fuck.” you sat down on him. “yo-you feel good.” he moaned. “so-so tight.” you began to move your hips , holding his shoulders. “y-yn please go faster.” he moaned. “pl-please.”

“fuck you want me to use you?” you began to bounce on his cock. “treat you like a toy?” he nodded dumbly, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. “fuck use me , please use me.” you scoffed. “fucking perv , i bet you thought about this everytime you jerked off back here.” he moaned. “you did , think about me fucking you like this?”

jisung was going crazy; his head was spinning as you were milking him for everything he had. “you're gonna cum?” you pulled him from his daze , there were tears wielding in his eyes from pleasure. “cum for me.” you kissed behind his ear. “be a good boy and cum for me.” that set him off and he came , he threw his head back slamming his hand on the desk next to him as you continued to bounce on his cock.

“y-yn.” he moaned. “yn please i can't cum again.” he was spent, you grabbed his chubby tear stained cheeks. “you can , cum for me again.” he let out a whimper like moan as he came for the third time. “sh-shit i can't go again.” he said. “fuck im gonna cum.” you cursed , as you came , you kissed his needy lips , he chased your lips as you pulled away , making you smile. “cute.”

“well i still thinks he's a little weird.” your coworker said. “regardless if he did ask you out on a date.” you rolled your eyes. “what does he even do back there all day?” you smirked to yourself , before turning back to your coworkers with a serious face. “he does his job , now leave him alone and get back to work.” you ordered , and they shrugged going back to what they were supposed to be doing— you turned around right at the camera , winking.

yeah he was a pervert , but he was your pervert.

©LUVYENI

[seokshinedk]

Well it looks like I’ll need to see an audiologist after all..perhaps i jinxed myself when I said I wanted to see what my own audiogram would look like lol

[topgun-imagines]

His Little Girl

Requested: No

Summary: You knew that Jake would be the best father to your baby girl. He didn't hesitate to prove it.

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: Pregnancy, hospitals, & mentions of blood.

Pairings: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x wife!reader

Jake Seresin was an amazing father. You thought that this would be the case, but the past few days were nothing but proof. Your entire pregnancy, Jake had been right there by your side. With every craving, every bout of morning sickness, every time you needed to feel the weight of your growing baby lifted from your shoulders, Jake was there. The whole nine months, all the way to your labour, he was the perfect husband. Not once during your 22-hour labour did he leave your side. 

Regardless of his caring tendencies during your pregnancy, somehow, Jake was even more caring the second your baby girl was born. Around 4:30 in the morning, Aimee Rose Seresin was born, weighing 6 pounds 7 ounces and perfectly healthy. You and your husband couldn’t have been more happy. Early that morning, for only the third time since you had met Jake, you saw tears filling your husband's eyes. 

When the nurses took out your little girl to do blood tests, Jake immediately ran down to get you something to eat. Jake arrived only seconds before the nurses did. He helped to prop you up and sort out your meal before Aimee was passed over to him. You watched with unlimited adoration as your little girl snuggled into his bare chest. You finished what you could have easily considered the best meal of your life before relaxing back onto your pillows. Within seconds, your eyes were slipping shut and you were drifting off into a peaceful sleep. 

You woke up a few hours later to the same sight of your baby girl asleep on her daddy’s chest. A soft smile grew on your face at the sight of your sleeping husband. Luckily, Jake had set your phone beside you before Aimee was handed to him. You snapped a quick picture and set it as your lock screen. You had never been more in love than you were now. 

Mere seconds later, the nurse walked in to check up on you. Your husband woke up slowly, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. “How are you doing, dear?” The sweet elderly nurse questioned as she reviewed your vitals. After only a few minutes, you were left alone again with your family. 

Your husband was standing now, walking toward you while rocking your little girl softly. Not only did Jake hold your little girl like she was the most precious thing in the world, he looked at you as if you hung the moon and the stars. In that moment, you could easily see how much he loved you. His eyes held untamed adoration as he set your little girl on your chest. 

“I love you so, so much, honey.” He whispered to you gently as he leaned down. A chaste kiss was placed on your forehead. 

The soft moment between the two of you was often one that you returned to when Aimee woke up crying in the middle of the night. However, even in those times of frustration, you knew that your husband was beside you every step of the way. 

Thankfully, you only had to stay in the hospital a few days longer before you were allowed to go home. Those few days flew by in a breeze, Jake being a large help through the whole process. You knew the history that Jake had with his father, so you were more than proud of the fact that he was already such an amazing father. The fact made you smile softly, watching your husband love on your little girl once more. 

Unsurprisingly, the ‘hot dad walk’ that you had been looking forward to since you found out you were pregnant did not disappoint, far exceeding any expectations you could have had. The sight of Jake carrying your baby girl out in her car seat had you swooning for your husband all over again. You waddled behind him slowly, happy to watch him walk away. When you finally arrived at the car, Jake made sure to let you know that he knew exactly what you had been staring at the whole time. Your cheeks were rosy the entire ride home. You sat in the back seat with Aimee, watching her sleep soundly as Jake made the slow drive home. 

Every few minutes, Jake would check on the two of you. “How are my girls doin’?” he questioned, not taking his eyes off the road. Another smile lit up your face as her tiny hand wrapped around one of your fingers. 

“We’re doing perfect Jake. She’s perfect.” There was nothing but pure awe on your face. In that moment, Jake thought the same about you. You were the light of his life; absolutely perfect just the way you were. He chose not to say anything, smiling softly at the thought of his new family. 

A few minutes later, Jake was pulling into the driveway of your home. He hopped out and pulled your door open, helping you out before he grabbed your baby girl’s car seat. She was passed over to you as Jake collected the rest of your belongings from the back seat. 

You sucked in a soft breath, grasping your husband's hand as you brought your baby girl into the house for the first time. Aimee slept soundly in her car seat, unaware of the happiness building in your chest. Your family was home. 

Together, you and Jake brought her up to the cozy nursery. Jake had spent weeks putting it together, dragging Bradley and Bob in at various times to help him assemble the furniture. The sight of three large aviators bent over pieces of a crib in a pretty pink room made you giggle more than once. As Jake emptied the contents of the hospital bag onto the changing table, you set Aimee softly in her crib. One of the tips that the nurses gave you was that when the baby was sleeping, you should be sleeping. After the exhausting few days you’d had, you certainly weren’t one to disagree. 

Seeing that Aimee was peacefully asleep in her crib, you and Jake grabbed the baby monitor and headed down the hall toward your room. Your husband pushed the door open for you, chuckling quietly as you flopped onto the bed. You offered him a tired grin. 

Mirroring your smile, Jake set the monitor on the dresser and walked toward the bed. “Hey there, pretty girl,” There was a loving look in his eyes as he climbed onto the bed beside you. His fingers began to trace delicate patterns into the soft skin of your stomach. “How’s my beautiful wife doing?” 

Offering him another smile as your eyes fluttered closed. “I’m doing amazing Jake,” You whispered, “Thank you so much.” You squeezed his hand softly. Even though you didn’t directly say it, Jake knew exactly what you were thanking him for. You may have not been able to see it with your eyes closed, but the smile on his face showed exactly how much he loved you. He didn’t have to respond; you knew he would do anything for his girls. 

A/n: Thank you for reading! Requests are open! I’ll start tagging people again once I start writing more <3

[zyafics]

BROTHER'S RIVAL | 03

MASTERLIST (Series)

Pairing — Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — You and your brother were born Pogues, but once your family made enough to move to Figure Eight, you became a Kook. Unfortunately, Rafe doesn't welcome Pogue-born Kooks. It doesn't help that your brother is determined to steal the 'King of Kook' title from him. So, if your brother is attempting to steal something from him, Rafe will return the favor.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, and usage of drugs.

Rafe: i don't like being ignored after giving u the best orgasm of ur life

You didn't expect to see that message flash on your screen. Especially since you're with your brother, helping him load all the shit he bought from Heyward's into the back of his truck. You didn't even know he got a truck.

Lowering your brightness, you type back a haste reply.

You: don't type that shit Dean sometimes reads my text

Rafe: but it's true

You: that's an overstatement

Rafe: how about you come over here and we'll test that?

You: no, thanks i'm with my brother

Rafe: maybe he should fuck off

You roll your eyes at the message, just as your brother calls your name. Slipping the phone into your back pocket, where you are positive Dean won't be able to reach, you turn back to see him standing on the trunk of his truck with his arms outstretched.

"Did you hear me? Bring me the next case." He declares, his tone chipped with semi-annoyance at your distraction. You were about the grab the box, but with his attitude, you decided to put your hand on your waist and stare him down instead.

"Do I look like a dog to you? Say it nicer."

Dean sighs but doesn't argue back. Rather, he prepares himself to lunge through the next few words. "My dearest sister, the light of my life, the only person in the world who I would kill for, can you pass me the goddamn beer?"

Close enough.

You reach for one of the cases of booze set near your feet and hand it off to Dean, who easily takes it off of you and stacks it in the back of his cargo bed with the rest.

"I still don't understand the plan here." You confess, picking up another box and starting a momentum. "You're going to host a party, so what? What does that gotta do with anything?"

Your brother decided that he wanted to start hosting parties at your house. Since now he's intersecting himself into more Kook spaces, he wants to also start stripping away the pride of certain members too. According to Dean, Rafe is the top host for the grandest parties on the island—his containing a multitude of wild nights and adventures, all oozed out of his all-expensive paid amenities.

But you, for the life of it, don't understand how this has anything to do with his goals. Dean confirmed, after your little encounter with Rafe on the golf course, that he did have plans on taking the title of Kook King from Rafe. That Rafe's hatred of him was not unwarranted. However, he didn't tell you why.

All you know is that for the duration of this summer, your brother is going to do everything he can to convince the rest of the Kooks to follow after him.

Dean sighs, approaching you at the far end of the tailgate, crouching down till his face is to your level. "It's simple. Kooks are superficial and flimsy. They are only loyal to the Camerons because they have money. So, we need to shift the tides."

You are not getting in the middle of this.

"We—" you gesture to yourself, then to your brother, "are not doing anything. You are trying to do something with something we don't have a lot of. AKA, money."

While your brother does have a cushy job that pays better than most living in The Cut, and your mother secured herself as a respectable accountant who works with several high-profile Kooks—your family is nowhere at the levels that the Camerons is.

Dean chuckles. He finds it humorous that you're trying to distance yourself from this ongoing rivalry, drawing a line that you would not cross. Though, he knows, you would choose his side if it came down to it. "I know," he agrees with a nod. "But that's not the only way we can even the playing field. We can get power elsewhere."

"You do realize that this is just a meaningless feud between the Kooks and the Pogues, right?" You remind your brother. You know that he's competitive and stubborn; when he sets his mind on something, nothing you can or do can change it. "That it's not going to matter in the long run?"

His jaw locks and it takes several beats before he answers. "It matters to me."

Your older brother pushes himself back up to his height, jumping off the trunk onto the ground, and starts carrying the boxes himself. Without your assistance. You feel like you pushed a button you didn't know existed, and step back timidly.

"Fine, tell me," you announce after a few minutes of unbearable silence, trying to retain Dean's attention. "How are you planning on getting power?"

"No, you don't care."

You grab your brother's arm before he hauls the next case onto the cargo bed. Finally, he turns to you. "But, you care," you rectify, in a small voice, "so that means I care too. What is your genius plan, Lucky?"

Dean lights up at the nickname you used. An inside joke between the two of you. When you were children, you two were obsessed with the film Lilo & Stitch—so much that you had adopted the nicknames as your own. However, for the better part of your childhood, you had a difficult time remembering it was Lilo. You kept calling it Lucky. In turn, you kept calling your brother 'Lucky.'

"Alright." He sets his current case on the tailgate, turning back to give you his full attention. "Y'know how Kook doesn't just party? They do a lot of other shit too. They smoke. They do drugs. They fuck one another on the off-chance that they could gain something from it—a job, an inside scoop, maybe even the life of a housewife."

You raise your brow at his example. "Men can't be the sluts?"

"Can you let me speak?"

You raise both your arms in surrender. He cuts you a playful annoyed look before continuing on his mastermind.

"So, that means, Kooks change loyalty based on whoever has most access to the things they want. The drugs, the alcohol, the parties. Everything. If I can take that away from Rafe, they will shift their loyalty."

You cross your arms, considering his words. "You can't honestly believe that's true. They have more loyalty than that."

"I don't think so," he shakes his head, the firmness in his voice makes you wonder how he's so confident about it. "They're not like Pogues. Loyalty isn't the only thing they have left."

You don't respond. Instead, you remember. You can't shake off the rising guilt in your gut, knowing what happened the other day with Rafe—your brother's enemy—and how your brother still doesn't know. While you don't consider yourself a Pogue anymore, you know you are loyal to one thing.

Dean.

Your family.

This, you are certain.

In that moment, you decided that you need to put some distance between yourself and Rafe. That whatever happened that night was a one-time thing, a flunk in the system, a brief moment of vulnerability.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket again and this time, you pull it out, expecting to see another text from Rafe.

Unknown: come on, don't ignore me

You swallow hard, clenching your phone in your palm. Dean has returned back to lodging his cases onto his trunk, picking up his own routine without you.

"Hey, Dean," you call out, to which your brother hums in response. "Have you talked to... him?"

It takes a moment for your brother to register who you are referring to, and his whole body goes rigid. "No," he says with gritted teeth, not bothering to hide his discontent. "I blocked that bastard months ago."

He glances down at your phone clutched in your hand. "Didn't you?"

You know you should. You know it would be better for you. But, something in you just doesn't allow it to happen. That you wonder, for a moment, if he would ever change and need help. To get back on his feet. To make amends. You couldn't let that happen without you.

"Yeah," you lie, "I was just curious."

—

The party is full of Kooks. You didn't expect this many people to show up, especially knowing that they're supposed to be resenting you and your brother, but somehow you were proven wrong. Perhaps it's because Dean went all-out that drove them, or because Kooks didn't like to miss out on something on their own street, but they're here.

You wonder, for a split moment, if what your brother said has some merit.

The party wasn't just Kooks. He invited the Pogues too. Unlike you, where your friends dropped you upon learning that you were moving to Figure Eight and you didn't care enough to keep in touch—Dean carefully kept in contact with his childhood buddies. Because, at heart, Dean still sees himself as a Pogue.

You didn't care. You took advantage of it. Dressed in your best party outfit—a skirt that barely covered anything, a top with such a large cut that practically revealed your cleavage—and a fuck-it attitude, you descended to the party and have fun.

You drank, danced, and even grind against a couple of guys on the dance floor.

That's when it hits you. Where is Dean? Usually, by the time the second guy got too handsy with you, he would appear out of nowhere to shove the guy off. An overprotective streak that you can't help but roll your eyes to, it's also a measured move that allows you to know when and where your brother is at all times.

Taking the final sip of your drink, the liquor of mixed fruits and vodka slipping down your throat with a burn, you separate from the guy to search for your brother. He wasn't outside, where most of everyone is, lounging around the lit pool; he wasn't on the roof, where Kooks were jumping off the ledge into the water below; he wasn't gone—his truck was still here. When you went inside, you searched the first floor to find him nowhere in sight. That's when you head upstairs. Opening the door to your room, you didn't find Dean.

You find Rafe instead.

"What the hell?" You exclaim, your words slightly slurred as you step into your bedroom and lock the door behind you. Rafe turns around, his previous attention paid to the various frames decorating your walls now pins onto you. "What—what are you doing here?"

"I heard there was a party," he shrugs, his demeanor completely casual while his hands rested inside the pockets of his khaki shorts. "Thought I'd check it out."

"The parties downstairs,"

"Huh," he hums, feigning innocence. "I must've gotten lost."

You aren't satisfied because, despite your intoxicated state, you can clearly see through his lies. Crossing your arms over your chest, you accuse, "thought you gave yourself a house tour the other night?"

"I did," he chuckles, closing the distance. His height towers over your own, and as he meets your gaze, a smirk rises over his face. "I got distracted."

You swallow hard, your heart skipping several beats knowing exactly what he's alluding to. It doesn't help that Rafe carries the same look behind his eyes—the same glint he had when he made you come.

"You know," Rafe begins, trailing down the length of your body, causing heat to bloom under your skin, before meeting your eyes again. "I talked to girls before and none of them has ever made me work as hard as you."

He's referring to the fact that, while you're replying to his texts, after your talk with Dean, they've been mostly monosyllabic answers. One-sided attempts at a conversation. You thought he would take the hint to leave you alone.

Once again, you're wrong.

You cross your arms and challenge him, "Go talk to one of your girls, then."

"Nah."

You don't know if it's the alcohol or his words, but your entire body is buzzing. You should leave, and go back to your search—what were you looking for again?—but something made you stay rooted in your spot. Rafe takes note of your internal battle and takes advantage of it.

Moving even closer, until he's nothing but a breath away, Rafe lowers himself to your level, his mouth right beside your ear. "You know what I can't stop thinking about?"

"How you can't seem to take no for an answer?"

"No," he chuckles, his breath fanning the crook of your exposed neck. "You and your little moans as you called out my name."

Your legs squeeze together, arousal stirring in the pit of your stomach as your mind flashes to the vivid memories of that night. Of Rafe touching you and making you come with the skillfulness of his hands. You can't help but imagine what he could do with his tongue.

Pulling together whatever little restraint you have left, you set a hand on his chest. "Well, cherish it. Because it's not going to happen again."

You're proud of how steady your voice sounds. It's almost believable.

But Rafe doesn't look completely convinced. A cocky smile forms on his face, his eyes diligently scanning your features, picking you apart under his scrutiny.

"You don't believe that."

"I—" You begin, stuttering. Goddammit. "I do. I'm serious."

His hand raises to cup the side of your profile, the pad of his thumb drags across the plump of your bottom lip and they part unconsciously. His smirk broadens.

"Look at you opening up for me. Showing me how much you want me."

You internally groan. He's so infuriating, hot, and obnoxious, that you can't believe you're falling for any of it. You need to do something. Flattening both hands on his firm chest, you give him a light shove, forcing him to release.

Turning, you head for the exit when Rafe captures your wrist, spins you around, and crashes his lips onto yours.

Everything zeros into this moment. All those nightly fantasies of Rafe kissing you finally come to life as he groans against the taste of you. His hand travels to the nape of your neck and holds it tight, using it to steady himself as he presses closer, pulling you in, needing to feel nothing but skin-on-skin.

And you allow it. You don't know if it's because of the vodka mixers you had, or because Rafe is just an incredible kisser, but the way he sucks the plump bottom of your lips draws out a breathy moan, and your skin buzzes with fervent heat. His free hand descends down to grab yours, before placing it against the hard bulge under his pants.

"Do you feel what you do to me, princess?" He murmurs against your vodka-stained lips. "I fucking need you."

Your eyes connect with his, but meet nothing but the pitch-black of his dilated pupils. "You're drunk," you say breathlessly.

His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, leaving tingles in its place, before he confesses, "Not enough."

Then, his mouth meets yours again.

Without breaking for air, Rafe steps forward, causing you to step back. It becomes a two-person dance, and it doesn't end until the back of your heels hits the frame of your bed, tumbling you onto the mattress.

Rafe is immediately on you. Your back flattens against the sheets, your heart thundering, as Rafe parts from the heavy kiss to lay wet ones on the side of your throat, teasingly, nibbling the tender skin until he leaves a mark, before moving down to the valley of your breasts.

Half of you wish you weren't wearing such revealing clothes. The other half wished they were already gone.

Your core aches as Rafe's hands fall between your legs, skimming the short skirt, until he feels the patch of your panties. "You're so gorgeous," he confesses, before chuckling at the slickness collecting on his fingertips, "and wet."

He tells you to lift your hips and you oblige. Removing your skirt, he toss it to the floor, and his eyes zoom into the red pair of panties you decided to wear tonight.

"Did you know red's my favorite color?" Rafe asks. You shake your head softly. "Do you know why?"

"Anger issues?"

He grins, his thumb gently stroking the drenched spot in a way that causes your hips to buck off the bed. But he pins you back down. "It's because it's a good color to fuck to."

"Never knew you were the type of guy to set the mood."

"Didn't need to. You did it all for me."

You open your mouth to retort when his thumb massages your clit in such a sensual manner, a moan rips from you. Rafe watches the way your eyes flutter from the ounce of pleasure, how easily stimulated you are by his touch, and he revels in that feeling.

"You want me," he murmurs, full of confirmation this time, but you don't answer. Rafe watches the way your teeth sink to your bottom lip, embarrassment flushing your face as you refuse to accept it. "Say it."

"You want me," you correct, changing the subject as you arch into his hand.

His fingers stop their magical strokes, and you whine. "No, princess, you want me. I want to hear you say it."

Desperation seeps. Your core aching, pleading for stimulation, and he is right there. You have half a mind to push him off and finish the yourself, voyeurism included. But, you don't. As your eyes connect with him, you breathe out with reluctance, "please make me come."

It isn't exactly what he wanted, but he takes it.

His fingers slip under the band of your panties, pulling them off and discarding them. You thought he would do the same methods as the other night, his fingers finding your sweet spot, but he surprises you when he lowers his mouth and finds your swollen nub.

"Shit," you whisper breathily, his mouth suctioning the clit in a manner that causes your back to arch. Your hands go to find his hair, threading your fingers through his roots as you grind on his face. "That feels so good."

"You taste so fucking good," Rafe growls, the vibration of his words causing your stomach to tighten. When he sees how responsive you are to him, he slips two fingers into your pussy, feeling your walls immediately fluttering around his digits.

He fingers you, as he sucks on your clit. The double stimulation causes your head to spin and your heart to hammer out of your chest, your stomach coils with the familiar pang of pleasure.

"Oh my god, Rafe," you moan, gripping his hair tighter. For a moment, you're afraid of hurting him, but it's quickly dismissed when he flattens his tongue against your slit.

"Say my name louder."

"Rafe."

"Would you do anything I say to come?" Rafe asks, taking the opportunity to get something from you. And you're willing.

"Yes," you whimper, tipping your head back against the bed. "Anything."

"Moan louder for me, baby."

You do.

"Play with your tits."

Your hands push up your top till your breasts are exposed, using a hand to grope the flesh, brushing your fingers through your perked nipples. Groaning from pleasure, it arouses Rafe further, his fingers penetrating deeper and faster into your cunt, while his mouth returns to your clit.

"Oh, god," you moan, chest rising and falling in rapid succession as your pleasure crescendos through your body. Your legs attempt to squeeze close from the sensitivity, to push Rafe out, but with one strong arm, he widens them instead. "Please don't stop."

Rafe doesn't respond but you can feel him grinning into your pussy, flattening his tongue across your slit as your core pulses around his digits. Nothing at this moment could be more perfect, the slow-burning building to your orgasm, the pleasure rippling through your veins.

Nothing can ruin it.

Until you hear your brother calling out your name.

"Shit," you swear, your heart rate spiking through the roof, and a hand slips between your thighs to push Rafe away. But he doesn't move. "Rafe—fuck," a clever roll of his tongue against your heat causes your mind to short-circuit, and you limp back onto the bed as Dean's voice grows louder.

Like he's outside your door.

"Rafe, please," you beg.

"Please what?" Rafe taunts, lifting his head from between your thighs, the lower half of his face dripping with your arousal, while his eyes gleamed that same mischief he had the other night. "Make you come? Or stop?"

You don't know what you want either, and it doesn't help that Rafe continues to stroke your cunt, his thumb rubbing your clit to make up for the absence of his hot mouth. Your legs twitch from the act, again, attempting to close around him, but he pushes them further apart.

Your door rattles. And Dean calls out your name again.

"Are you in there?" He asks, "are you okay?"

No, you want to rasp, but nothing comes out. Rafe grins devilishly, before lowering himself back onto your clit and sucks harder—quickening the arrival to your blinding climax.

"Rafe," you whisper roughly, your mind caught between two forces. The door continues to rattle as Dean tries to force the lock open, a protective trait of him needing to make sure you're okay, while Rafe has you in the most compromising position.

With the worst person.

"Go out with me."

"What?"

You think you heard him wrong, that Rafe definitely isn't asking you out while he's between your legs. But you didn't. Rafe lifts his head and repeats the question once more. "Go out with me."

"I—"

"Come on," Rafe soothes, his fingers fastening their strokes, your walls clenching around him. "Go out with me. Or else, your big brother's gonna come in and see you mid-orgasm."

"W–What do you mean?"

"I know you don't want me to stop," Rafe taunts with a smirk, "And I know your brother probably got some way of getting that door to open. So, you got two choices: either accept my date and come, or your big brother is gonna see me between your legs."

"I—" Your breath shudders as Rafe's signet cool ring presses against your heat. "You're despicable."

"Yet I'm here," Rafe lowers himself back on your clit, sucking languidly as if you don't have a threatening force outside your door, seconds from being let in. Your heart piercing out of your chest. "Come on, princess, go out with me."

Your mind is caught in a tailspin. Half of you want to tell him to fuck off, that you can't believe Rafe is using your moment of weakness to coerce you into a date, but the other part is wrapped in the absolute pleasure of your onslaught orgasm. The white-searing hot power that's coursing down your spine.

"Fuck," you say breathily, eyes fluttering shut from the way Rafe suctions on your clit. "Fuck, fuck, okay, okay. I–I'll go out with you."

You don't see it, but Rafe is grinning between your thighs. He goes faster, harder, pushing you over the edge as you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the loud moans leaving your lips.

And just in that moment, the locks disengages.

With whatever mental capacity you have left, you quickly shove Rafe onto the floor and throw your blanket over your body. Dean barges into the room, blinking out his drunken haze, while his eyes scans the space for any disruptions.

"Did you hear me?" He asks with a subtle slur, scanning your face to see you comfortable in bed. He doesn’t know what got you here. "I've been calling out to you."

Your heart is hammering, and you pray that Dean doesn't approach the bedframe or look on the floor to find any semblance of his enemy hiding out. Rafe, thankfully, doesn't make a sound—though, you’d imagine he's hiding behind a cocky smile at the situation he's in.

"I—" you don't know how to answer him, "I was listening to music. Sorry."

"Oh," Dean says, taking the excuse as acceptable. He glances back at the door. "Why was your door locked?"

"It—it's a party," you explain, surprised at how easy the lie is flying off your tongue. "I didn't want drunk people to stumble up here and have sex on my bed."

"Right, right, smart," Dean nods, and he turns back around. "Alright. I'm going back down. Sleep tight."

You hum back in response as Dean stumbles out of your room, and you finally feel like you can expel a breath. The moment the lock clicks, Rafe lets out a rich laugh, straightening himself into a sitting position as he turns his head and connects his gaze with yours.

"Nice lie."

"Fuck off."

"Can't, you promised me a date," Rafe grins cheekily, pulling himself to his feet while he holds out something in his hand. "I think this belongs to you."

Your panties.

You snatch it from him, heat flushing your face as you want to nothing more than to bury yourself into your sheets. Well, you technically already did. Regardless, Rafe takes one final look around the room, at you, before he says, "I'll text you." And before he leaves, he gives you a sharp look and a reminder, "And actually respond."

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Navigation — Part 02 | Part 03 | Part 04

[regressionschool]

Maturity Test Part 1

The waiting room buzzed with a nervous energy, a mix of anticipation and dread that hung thick in the air. Rebecca fidgeted with the hem of her dress, her fingers tracing the lace pattern absentmindedly. Beside her, Olaf was tapping his foot, his face a careful mask of indifference, though the slight tremor in his leg betrayed his unease. Anna, the calmest of the trio, sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap, her posture straight, and her expression serene.

At twenty years old, they had all reached the first critical milestone in their lives—the Maturity Test. Every person was required to take it at twenty, and then every five years after that. The test was designed to determine their place in society, not just in terms of their roles and responsibilities, but their very lifestyle. No one knew exactly how the test worked; it was a closely guarded secret, passed down through generations, the results shaping the course of every citizen’s life.

A door at the far end of the room opened with a quiet hiss, and a woman in a crisp white lab coat stepped out. “Rebecca Green,” she called, her voice soft but commanding.

Rebecca stood up, smoothing her dress one last time before following the woman through the door. Olaf and Anna exchanged a glance, but neither said anything. What was there to say? They had all grown up together, gone through school together, and now this test would decide their futures.

The door closed behind Rebecca, sealing her into a small, sterile room. A single chair sat in the center, facing a large screen. The woman gestured for her to sit.

“Relax, Rebecca,” the woman said, her tone soothing. “This will only take a few minutes.”

Rebecca nodded, though her heart was pounding in her chest. She sat down, the chair surprisingly comfortable. The screen in front of her flickered to life, displaying a series of images, words, and scenarios. Rebecca tried to focus, answering the questions as they appeared, making decisions, reacting to scenarios, all while trying to keep calm.

After what felt like both an eternity and only a few seconds, the screen went black. The room was silent, save for the soft hum of machinery. Rebecca’s hands gripped the armrests of the chair, her knuckles white.

Finally, the screen lit up again, displaying a single word in bold letters.

TODDLER

Rebecca stared at the word, her mind reeling. Toddler? What did that mean? But before she could process it, the door behind her opened again, and the woman in the lab coat re-entered, this time accompanied by a man in a similar uniform. He held a small bundle in his hands.

“Rebecca, your classification is toddler,” the woman said, her voice still calm. “This means that, from now on, your lifestyle will be adjusted to fit your new status. This includes, but is not limited to, the wearing of diapers, a supervised environment, and the cessation of adult responsibilities.”

The man stepped forward, handing her the bundle. It was soft, wrapped in pastel-colored fabric. Rebecca’s hands trembled as she took it, unfolding it to reveal a thick, padded diaper. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Your new caretaker will meet you shortly to explain everything,” the woman continued. “Please follow the attendant, and they will guide you to your new quarters.”

Rebecca could barely move, her mind swirling with confusion, embarrassment, and a strange sense of resignation. She was led out of the room, clutching the diaper to her chest like a lifeline.

As she passed by the waiting room, she caught Olaf’s eye. He gave her a tight, sympathetic smile, but there was nothing he could say. Anna, still composed, offered a small nod, acknowledging Rebecca’s fate.

The door closed behind her, leaving Olaf and Anna in silence once more.

“Olaf Lindstrom,” the same woman called, and Olaf rose to his feet. He walked through the door, his heart pounding in his ears.

The process was much the same. The questions, the scenarios, the flashing images on the screen. But Olaf’s mind kept wandering back to Rebecca, to the diaper in her hands, to the word TODDLER that had flashed on the screen. Was that really her future now? What would his be?

When the screen finally settled on his classification, Olaf felt his heart skip a beat.

PRESCHOOLER

The woman re-entered the room, but this time she held something different—a package of pull-ups, adorned with cartoon characters and bright colors.

“Olaf, your classification is preschooler,” she said. “This means that while you have some independence, you will still require supervision and assistance with certain tasks. You will wear these pull-ups, and your activities will be limited to those appropriate for your status.”

Olaf stared at the pull-ups, a strange mix of relief and disappointment washing over him. He wasn’t a toddler like Rebecca, but he wasn’t classified as an adult either. He was stuck in some in-between stage, not quite a baby, but not fully independent.

He was led out of the room, clutching the pull-ups. When he passed the waiting area, Anna’s eyes met his, her expression unreadable. She offered him a small, reassuring smile, but Olaf could see the concern behind it. They had all known that their futures would be decided today, but none of them had expected it to be so drastic.

Finally, it was Anna’s turn. She walked into the room with her head held high, her steps confident. The test followed the same pattern—questions, images, scenarios—but Anna’s mind was calm, focused. She had always been the responsible one, the one who took care of her friends, who excelled in school, who made the right decisions.

When the screen displayed her classification, Anna felt a sense of vindication.

ADULT

The woman in the lab coat entered, holding nothing this time. She simply smiled at Anna, a warm, approving smile.

“Anna, your classification is adult,” she said. “You will continue to live as you have, with full responsibilities and privileges. You have passed your Maturity Test.”

Anna nodded, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. But as she left the room, her thoughts drifted back to Rebecca and Olaf, to the diaper and the pull-ups, to the new lives they were about to lead.

As Anna walked out of the room, she glanced back at the door where Rebecca and Olaf had exited. Her heart ached for her friends, especially for Rebecca, who had been reduced to a toddler by the system. But she knew there was nothing she could do. The classifications were final, and everyone had to live by them.

As she continued down the street, Anna silently vowed to check in on Rebecca and Olaf, to be there for them despite the gulf that had just opened between their lives. Because while the system had classified them differently, they were still her friends, and she wouldn’t let that change.

Anna walked up to the familiar house, the one she had visited so many times before, yet it felt different now. It had been two years since the Maturity Test, and so much had changed. She had just finished her BSc, an accomplishment she was proud of, but now that she was back home, she felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation about reconnecting with her old friends, especially Olaf.

As she approached the front door, Anna could hear muffled laughter from inside. She knocked gently, and within moments, the door swung open to reveal a beaming Olaf. He looked almost the same as she remembered, but there was something different about his demeanor—something softer, less assured.

"Anna!" Olaf exclaimed, his eyes lighting up as he pulled her into a warm hug. "It’s so good to see you!"

"You too, Olaf!" Anna replied, hugging him back tightly. "It’s been way too long."

Olaf stepped aside to let her in, and as Anna entered the house, she noticed the subtle changes. The living room had a more childlike vibe now, with toys neatly arranged in one corner and colorful educational posters on the walls. A large stuffed animal sat on the couch, and there was a faint scent of baby powder in the air.

Olaf looked a little different too. His clothes were casual, a bit more childlike than she remembered—loose overalls and a bright, playful t-shirt. And there was a visible outline beneath his overalls that hinted at something... padded.

Lilly appeared from the kitchen, wearing a soft smile and holding a tray of snacks. She looked every bit the doting caregiver, dressed in comfortable clothes that belied her new role in Olaf’s life.

"Anna, it’s so great to see you again," Lilly said warmly, setting the tray down on the coffee table. "I’ve heard so much about how well you’ve been doing."

"Thanks, Lilly," Anna replied, returning the smile. "It’s good to be back home, even if just for a bit."

Olaf began chatting animatedly about his life, clearly eager to share.

“So, I’m in preschool now,” Olaf said, his voice carrying a mix of pride and something else—a hint of embarrassment, maybe? “It’s... well, it’s different from what I thought I’d be doing, but I’ve made some really good friends there.”

Anna nodded, listening intently. “That’s great, Olaf. What kind of stuff do you do in preschool?”

“Oh, you know, we have story time, arts and crafts, and lots of outdoor play,” Olaf said, his eyes lighting up as he talked about the games they played. “It’s really fun, actually. And we have nap time after lunch, which is... kind of nice.”

Lilly chuckled softly, ruffling Olaf’s hair. “He’s the star of the class, aren’t you, sweetie?”

Olaf blushed deeper, looking down at his juice box. “I guess...”

Anna smiled, sensing the comfort yet slight awkwardness Olaf felt in this dynamic. “Sounds like you’re doing great, Olaf. It’s good to see you so happy.”

But then Lilly’s expression turned slightly mischievous. “Olaf, why don’t you tell Anna about that big milestone you hit last year?”

"And, uh," Olaf continued, his tone shifting slightly as he glanced at Lilly, "I also... well, I passed 'Unpotty Training I' last year."

Anna blinked, taking in the information. She had heard of Unpotty Training classes but hadn’t really considered what that meant for someone like Olaf. The idea of Olaf, her old friend who used to be so independent, having accidents like a toddler was hard to wrap her mind around.

Lilly, however, looked absolutely delighted. "He did so well in that class," she said proudly, as if discussing an academic achievement. "He’s such a good boy. He was one of the first in his class to have real accidents."

Olaf squirmed in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. "I-I guess..."

Anna glanced at Lilly, noticing the way she gently but firmly guided Olaf’s behavior. There was a subtle push and pull in their dynamic—Olaf trying to hold on to his independence and maturity, while Lilly seemed eager to encourage his regression. It was an intriguing contrast.

“That’s... really interesting,” Anna said, trying to be supportive while still processing the situation.

Lilly smiled, sensing Anna’s curiosity. “Olaf’s doing great in his preschool class, and he’s learning to embrace this new phase of his life. But, of course, I’m here to help him with whatever he needs.”

Olaf looked at Anna, his expression somewhere between pride and a plea for understanding. “It’s been... different, but Lilly’s been really supportive. She... she helps me a lot.”

Anna watched the interaction, noting how Lilly’s influence seemed to be gently guiding Olaf further away from the maturity he was trying to cling to. It was clear that Lilly enjoyed her role as a caregiver—no, as Mommy.

"So, what happens after these five years?" Anna asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Lilly’s eyes gleamed slightly as she looked at Olaf. "Well, after five years, we all take the Maturity Test again. Depending on how things go, Olaf might stay a preschooler, or... maybe he’ll move on to the next smaller stage."

Olaf’s blush deepened as he looked down at his hands. "I don’t want to move backward, Anna. I want to stay a preschooler... or maybe even move up, if I can."

Lilly chuckled softly, clearly amused by his determination. "We’ll see, sweetie. There’s no rush. For now, let’s just focus on enjoying where you are."

Olaf looked up at her, his expression a mix of resignation and affection. "Yeah... I guess you’re right."

Anna walked through the bright, cheerfully decorated halls of the regression school nursery, a place she never imagined visiting until now. She hadn’t seen Rebecca since before her classification, and she wasn't sure what to expect. The walls were lined with colorful murals, depicting scenes of playful animals and idyllic nature, clearly designed to be soothing and engaging for the residents. The soft hum of lullabies played in the background, adding to the nursery’s serene atmosphere.

Finally, she reached the room number she had been given and knocked gently on the door. A moment later, it swung open, and Anna was greeted by a young woman with a warm smile, dressed in a uniform that marked her as one of the caregivers.

“Hello, you must be Anna,” the caregiver said kindly. “Rebecca’s been talking about your visit all week. She’s just inside, playing with her toys.”

Anna smiled back, feeling a mix of emotions—anticipation, curiosity, and a twinge of sadness as she stepped into the room. It was spacious, filled with soft, pastel-colored furniture, and various toys scattered across the floor. In the middle of it all sat Rebecca, her back to the door, completely absorbed in stacking brightly colored blocks into a wobbly tower.

Rebecca was dressed in a simple shirt with a cartoon character printed on the front, and Anna’s eyes were immediately drawn to the diaper peeking out from beneath it. The thick padding crinkled softly as Rebecca shifted.

“Becky,” Anna called softly, using the childhood nickname that felt oddly appropriate now.

Rebecca turned around, her face lighting up with a broad, innocent smile that made her look younger than her twenty-two years. “Anna!” she squealed, dropping the blocks and crawling over to her friend. When she reached Anna, she wrapped her arms around her legs in an enthusiastic hug, her diaper crinkling loudly with the movement.

“Hi, Becky,” Anna said, crouching down to return the hug. She was struck by how different Rebecca seemed. The way she moved, the way she looked up at Anna with wide, expectant eyes—it was as if Rebecca had truly turned into the toddler she had been classified as.

“Wanna play blocks with me?” Rebecca asked, her voice slightly lisped, whether naturally or from the regression, Anna wasn’t sure. “I’m makin’ a big tower!”

Anna smiled gently. “Sure, I’d love to.” She sat down on the plush rug next to Rebecca, who immediately returned to her task of stacking blocks, her small tongue poking out in concentration.

As they played, Anna observed her friend closely. Rebecca’s mannerisms were so childlike—the way she clapped her hands in delight when the tower didn’t fall over, the way she babbled excitedly about the different colors and shapes of the blocks. It was clear that Rebecca had regressed quite a bit since her classification.

“So, Becky,” Anna started, picking up a block and turning it over in her hands, “how have you been? Do you like it here?”

Rebecca nodded enthusiastically, her pigtails bouncing with the movement. “Yeah! It’s so fun! I get to play all day, an’ the caregivers are really nice. They give me cookies when I’m good!”

Anna smiled, though there was a hint of sadness behind it. “That sounds nice. And you’re happy?”

“Uh-huh!” Rebecca chirped, not a care in the world as she continued stacking her blocks. “I don’t hafta worry ‘bout big girl stuff anymore.”

Anna nodded, watching Rebecca with a mix of concern and curiosity. The girl in front of her was so different from the Rebecca she once knew—carefree, unburdened, but also entirely dependent on the nursery and its routines. It was a stark contrast to Anna’s own life, where responsibility weighed heavily on her shoulders every day.

As they continued to play, Anna couldn’t help but notice something strange—Rebecca’s diaper, which had been dry when she arrived, was still dry. She had been there for nearly three hours, and Rebecca hadn’t shown any signs of needing a change. It struck Anna as odd, considering everything she’d heard about regression schools and their “residents.”

But as the hours passed, Anna started to see small signs. Rebecca would squirm a little more, shift her weight from side to side, and occasionally pause in the middle of talking or playing, as if she was distracted by something. Anna noticed but didn’t say anything, not wanting to embarrass her friend.

Finally, after about three hours, Rebecca paused mid-sentence, her eyes going wide for a moment. She looked down at her diaper, then back up at Anna, a slight blush creeping into her cheeks. “Uh-oh...” she mumbled softly, her voice tinged with both embarrassment and a hint of relief.

Anna watched as the colorful designs on Rebecca’s diaper began to fade, the telltale sign of it absorbing wetness. There was a faint, almost imperceptible hiss, and then Rebecca sighed softly, a look of contentment spreading across her face.

“I did a pee-pee,” Rebecca said quietly, almost to herself, as she absentmindedly patted the front of her now-soggy diaper. There was no shame in her voice, just a simple acknowledgment of what had happened.

Anna reached out, gently rubbing Rebecca’s back. “It’s okay, Becky. Do you want me to get someone to change you?”

Rebecca shook her head, leaning into Anna’s touch. “No, it’s okay. I’m comfy.”

Anna continued to rub her back, noticing how Rebecca seemed completely at ease with her situation. "You really seem to enjoy it here," Anna said softly.

Rebecca’s smile faltered for a moment as she looked down at her soggy diaper, then back up at Anna. "Well... I heard that if I'm a good little girl and don't put up a fuss, they might let me grow back up before the next... matur... matuwity... test," she said, struggling with the word.

Anna’s eyes widened slightly. “Maturity test?”

Rebecca nodded, a proud smile spreading across her face. “Uh-huh! If I’m a good girl and don’t make a fuss, maybe when it’s time for the test again, I can grow back up!”

Anna’s heart ached a little as she listened. It was clear that Rebecca had latched onto the idea, hoping that by being the perfect little toddler, she might get a chance to return to her previous life. Anna wasn’t sure if that was really how it worked, but she didn’t want to burst Rebecca’s bubble.

“That’s a good plan, Becky,” Anna said softly, pulling her friend into a gentle hug. “You’re doing great.”

Rebecca beamed up at her, the simple praise enough to make her day.

[karaeilishh]

Please please please I’m begging more g!p Billie x reader

im pretty sure this is not what you all expected. surprise !

ᝰ.ᐟ not yours

pregnant!reader x g!p billie

you had it all. a big house on the outskirts of town, where life moved slowly and calmly, allowing you to enjoy every moment. two dogs that you both dreamed of and finally got a few months ago, two big boys who still jump on your bed in the morning. you had peace and quiet, happiness and love, you had you. and your love must continue.

memories of how loudly you screamed for billie when the test finally showed two stripes. two stripes that you waited for so long that neither of you could hold back a waterfall of tears. that day, you spent almost half the night on the bathroom floor, hugging and discussing plans for the future. you even came up with an idea for how to arrange the nursery.

billie proposed to you just a couple of weeks later, saying that she wanted you to be her wife by the time your child was born. you had never said yes so quickly.

you remember the day you found out you were having a girl. billie held your hand tightly, kissing your knuckles every few seconds, her eyes glued to the screen where your baby was visible. then she carried you home in her arms, then the smile on your faces never leaving for a moment.

a couple of months ago, you decorated the nursery. exactly as you planned the day you found out you were pregnant. pastel pink walls, abstract patterns on them, a big crib with the softest pillow and soapy blanket. star lanterns, you couldn't pass them by in the store, claiming to your wife that they were the cutest thing you had ever seen.

you were living your dream. it all seemed unreal, impossible, but it was true. you loved each other more than anyone had ever loved. you were the happiest girl in the world.

but nothing lasts forever.

"i hate you" these words fall from your lips like a blow to the heart for billie. her eyes are filled with pain and regret, shame. she was so ashamed. but it doesn't matter anymore. did she really think that you wouldn't notice such a drastic change in her behavior? 

she began to hide her phone from you, more and more often you woke up and fell asleep in a cold bed, hugging a pillow instead of her. the coldness of her gaze and words settled between you. she tried to hide it, but you feel it. from the very first day it happened. 

"i... i didn't want to, really. it was all a mistake!" her voice trembles when she tries to take your hands in hers, but you jerk away from her touch, like from boiling water, wanting to take a step back. there is pain, resentment, hatred in you, only because you love her so much. "didn't want to? are you fucking seriously telling me this. how many times did you fuck her while i was lying in bed crying because you weren't there?"

you break into a hysterical scream, feeling your fingertips tremble, the weight of your own body becoming too heavy for you to stand on. pain shoots through your body and you sit down on the couch, holding your stomach. at six months pregnant, your stomach was already causing you discomfort. billie's mouth opens to ask if you were okay, but you hold your hand up, showing her you don't need her. "answer my question."

she bites her bottom lip, burying her face in her hands and sighing loudly. she wanted to lie to you so much, knowing the truth would only hurt more, but she couldn't bring herself to lie to you even now. when you already knew everything. "i-i don't know.. maybe three or four times." her voice is a guilty whisper as she looks at your downcast eyes.

"fuck, you disgusting me" you shake your head, as if trying to throw off the weight of her words and actions, but with each passing second it only gets worse. you don't want to know who she is or how they met, how old she is or what color her hair is. you want to know why billie chose her, trading her pregnant wife and years of relationship for a fleeting crush. "am i bad for you already? is my body not so beautiful and perfect for you anymore? dont you want me anymore?"

a million questions seemed to fly off your lips, the answer to which was always "no". falling to her knees, billie talked about how beautiful and perfect you were for her, and it was true. but you won't believe it anymore. in your eyes, you are now a burden to her, an obligation, not her beloved woman. you are no longer the mother of her unborn child.

"then why, billie?" she winced, hearing you call her by her full name. the problem was that she didn't know why she traded everything she had for some young girl she didn't even love. she didn't have an answer to your question. "fucking answer me! what didn't i give you, that she gives you?" new sobs fly from your lips, tears burn your eyes.

she is silent. at the moment when you need her words more than anything in the world, she is silent.

"why the fuck aren't you talking?" you raise your hand in the air to slap her, but you can't find the strength to do it. your hand is shaking too much for you to hold it there for even a few seconds without saying anything. she opens her mouth, trying to find the right words. "i'm so.. i'm so sorry, really-"

"shut up, billie, just stop telling me that" you get up from the couch, now pacing around the room with your hands in your hair while she sits there on the floor in front of the couch. you had to gather all your strength and willpower to voice the words that were on the tip of your tongue. "leave. i don't want to see you"

you didn't even have to look at her to feel her eyes on your back. she stands up abruptly, taking a few steps towards you, but stopping far enough away that you don't push her away again. "i'm not leaving, you're in no condition to be alone right now"

you grin hysterically, turning to face her. you've never seen such fear in her eyes. "oh god, don't try to be a hero right now" you raise your voice at her again, hoping she'll hear you and leave. she stands still. "billie, go the fuck away!" you scream in her face, tears streaming down your red cheeks relentlessly and non-stop.

"i'm not leaving as long as you're carrying our child" she says it confidently enough, but only you can hear how broken she truly is right now. and you feel so bad for still caring about her feelings. but right now you need to put yourself first. your child.

"not ours, billie. this is my child" your lips tremble as you say it. you can't believe you're saying those words out loud. billie can't seem to either. her eyes widen in shock, pupils darting across your face. "what?"

you're silent for a few seconds, a lump of pain festering in your throat. "from the second you climbed into her bed, this isn't your child."

the last of your strength left your body when you said that. you couldn't take it anymore, you couldn't be here, talking to her, smelling her and looking into her eyes that had become so foreign in just a few minutes. "please.. just go."

the way your voice sounded desperate, she just had no choice. she bit her lower lip, trying to hold back the tears. she nodded a few times, slowly turning around to walk to the door. still hoping that you'd call her back.

but you're silent.

she's gone.

forever.

tags - @chrissv4mp, @hkkuugu, @sweet3nerrr, @krosep, @stonerfromlesbos, @loveyoumatthewbernard, @47lake @ohdoyoustillcry, @bilsdillldough, @n0vabug, @bxllxeb, @hopingforgoodblogs

[hotyanderedaddies]

Yandere Nerd Blackmails "Mean Girl" You into Being His

[Yandere! Nerd x Popular! GN! Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

You're one of the popular people in school: surrounded by tons of friends, always going out on dates every weekend, and always invited to every party.

To say the least, you loved you life.

However, while your social life was on an upward trajectory, you struggled a little bit with your classes. And with an upcoming physics midterm giving you anxiety, you knew that you had to do something.

"H-hey, Y/N," some random nerd (Nate?) who sat beside you in class said. He wore a really large smile and his eyes seemed to shine with adoration the more he stared at you.

"Yeah?" you asked, anger seeping into your tone due to your stress levels.

"If you want a tutor, I can help you out?" Nate cheerily smiled, almost begging you to accept his offer.

He wanted you to accept so badly! He loves you so desperately!

You vaguely recalled this nerdy guy as the one who kept following you around like a lovesick puppy. However, given your high social status, you didn't pay him too much attention.

"Eww," you scoffed, oblivious to his frown. Ugh, what would your friends say if they saw you with him?

You didn't like the idea of owing anyone, plus, Nate would most likely just drool all over you as you attempted to study.

*Sigh, it's just the price to pay for being pretty.

After school, you were making your way down the hall when you noticed that the door to your physics class was slightly ajar, and there was zero sign of the teacher. And on the desk was a little, tantalizing manilla folder.

You knew it was wrong, that you could get in some serious trouble (even risking expulsion), yet you couldn't resist rushing inside and snatching the folder off the desk to peek at its contents.

And voilà!

The answers to the midterm were in your clutches. Thinking quickly, you took a quick picture of the answers with your phone and placed them back into the folder, setting it on the desk and rushing out of the classroom.

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

You got an A+ on your physics midterm.

"Good work, Y/N," the teacher even said as she handed you back your exam. "I can tell you studied a lot."

"Sure did," you confidently said, a wide smile on your face. You were on top of the world, having passed the hard test with absolutely zero negative consequences.

You were riding high for most of the school day, already planning out your weekend that was supposed to be full of partying and flirting with the quarterback of the football team (he has muscles for days), when Nate approached you at your locker.

"Hey there, Y/N," he smirked, his eyes narrowing for some reason.

"Whaaaat?" you sighed, already fed up with this loser who seemed to just want to waste your precious time.

"I heard you got a perfect score on the midterm," Nate knowingly grinned, something in his tone making you wince. "That's pretty impressive, seeing as how you were a little worried before."

You rolled your eyes, slamming your locker shut as you readied yourself to storm off. "Are you trying to say that I'm not smart?" you deflected. "That's not nice." You spun around on your heels.

"Neither is cheating," Nate muttered, making you freeze.

Slowly, you turn around to stare Nate down. Despite your face going pale at the thought of being found out, you saw that Nate had a big smirk on his... did... did he know? No, there was no way.

You were careful, right?

"What are you talking about?" you asked, trying to act all cool, but your heart was racing like crazy in your chest.

The knowing smirk on Nate's face, the way he narrowed his cold calculating eyes at you, and the way he chuckled let you know that something was wrong. Plus, Nate was WAY taller than you, and the way he towered over you, leaning threateningly over you, was enough to make you shiver.

Something was definitely wrong.

Nate snatched his phone out of his pocket and held it up to your stunned face. On the screen was something horrible:

A video recording of you sneaking into the physics room, and taking a picture of the midterm answers.

How?

How could Nate have recorded you cheating? You were so careful to not get caught?

...and worse...

...w-was Nate following you? Why else would he record you?

The blood drained from your face as you watched the video play over and over on Nate's phone.

Out of instinct, you tried to snatch it away from the nerd, but he was too fast for you. He held it up in his grasp, way out of your reach.

Nate mock-frowned at you. "That's not very nice, Y/N," he teased. "Now let's think about this real quick."

You huffed and fought with all of your might to not roll your eyes (again).

"If I were to show this copy to the school board," Nate continued, his voice slow and smooth, "and yes, I said 'Copy'-- then you'd be expelled. And then what would happen to you?"

If you were expelled, it'd be the end of the world for you, no exaggeration. Your parents are super strict, and if they found out you'd cheated on a midterm, they'd blister your ass. And if they found out you'd been expelled for cheating on a midterm, then you'd might as well dig your own grave.

And Nate inferred that he had more than one copy of the video of you cheating.

No matter how much you wanted to deny it, the stupid nerd had you cornered.

Hangin your head in defeat, you tried to hide your reddening face. "You can't show that video," you whispered. "...please."

Nate snorted as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Oh?" he questioned, challenging you. "And what's stopping me?"

Fuck.

Your stomach was tied in knots, and the more you stared up at the smirking nerd, the more you realized that you had you cornered; both literally and figuratively.

"Well," you frowned, feeling as if you'd projectile vomit all over his cocky face, "what do you want?"

Nate's smirk grew and stretched out the confines of his face, the shadows crossing over it in an eerie manner. He leaned in closer to you, making your back press tightly against the cold locker that you were trapped against, especially when he pressed both of his arms on either side of your trembling frame.

"You," he answered flatly.

"...huh?" you asked.

Nate snorted and leaned down even closer, his nose brushing up against yours. "I want you," he said.

At first, a look of pure disgust crossed over your face. You were popular, the top fo the top! There was absolutely no way in the world that you'd be caught dead with someone as lowly as Nate!

But when his smirk transformed into a scowl, your face melted into a look of fear.

"Look, Y/N," Nate spat, "either you be mine, and only mine; or, I tell the school board that you're nothing but a filthy, lying cheater, and you get expelled."

Your heart fell the floor.

Nate continued to smile down at you. "The choice is yours, Y/N."

To be continued...? (depending on if people like Nate)

[the-californicationist]

FaceTime (Price/Reader)

Warning: video/phone sex

It was around lunchtime when you usually heard from John. His deployment was stationed in some Eastern European locale, and over there, it would be late at night. He usually texted you throughout the day, and you’d wake up to his updates, but it had been radio silence for at least twenty-four hours and you were nervous.

You tried to stay busy, keeping yourself calm by talking to your friends and calling your mom, but the house was so empty without him. Sometimes you stole a cigar just to smell his smoke in the house again, lighting it on a plate like incense. He’d be cross if he found out, but you knew he’d forgive you. 

You logged out of your work email and undressed to hop in the shower. Then, just as you were about to step in, you heard your phone buzz. Abandoning the running shower, you lunged for your phone, turning it over to see John’s profile photo on the screen, smiling at you.

“John?” You panted, fear crawling up your throat. 

“Hey, love,” he whispered, his voice low and gravelly. He sounded exhausted.

“Thank God. I was worried sick. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sounded like he wanted to say no, “Everything’s fine.”

That was his code for ‘don’t ask.’ It made you even more concerned, but you kept that to yourself, not wanting to add to his mental stress.

“I miss you, John,” you sighed. 

Then, he was video calling you. You were naked, but he was careful. He would never call you in front of anyone. You swiped up to answer it. 

He seemed surprised to see your bare collarbones. He was shirtless, too. Ready for bed, alone in his bunk. 

“Oh, hey,” he smiled, “Look at you, pretty thing.”

You blushed, 

“Right back at you, handsome.”

He grinned, rubbing his big hand across his chest. You loved it when he did that. There was something so hot about his fingers petting through his thick chest hair, flashing over his pink nipples, warming his tired muscles, rippling and rising with his breaths. 

“Mm, careful, love. I’m already missin’ ya. Start praising me and I’m gonna grab you through this phone,” he joked with you, playfully threatening, flirting through his tiredness. 

“Wish you would, John,” you moaned, testing his limits. If you were lucky, maybe he would take the bait.

You heard the fabric of his sweatpants rustle, and when he repositioned the phone, you saw his pink cock being dragged out, heavy and hardening under its commander’s grasp. You moaned again, more enthusiastically this time, 

“Oh, fuck. I miss that cock,” you propped your phone up on the sink, leaning it against a bottle of soap and the tap. 

You saw your body on the screen, tossing your towel on the counter to show him your entire naked form. Your hands found your breasts, pulling at your nipples, squeezing the flesh for him and for you, feeling better by the second. Your hands were no match for his hands, but it would have to pass. 

“This cock misses you, baby. Why don’t you touch that soft little cunt for me, hm?”

You do as he says, eagerly sinking your fingers into yourself to obey him, sending waves of pleasure through your core as you do. You’re not ready yet, and you work yourself slowly as you watch his giant hand pump his fat shaft faster and faster in the darkness of his bunk. 

“I can’t wait for you to come home, John. I need to taste you again. I want you to put so much come in me that I feel full from it.”

“You like how I taste, love?” His voice was strained. He was concentrating on watching you fuck yourself on your hand. 

“I love it,” you confessed honestly, “You want me to show you how much?”

You didn’t wait for him to reply. You gathered your wetness on your fingers and showed it to him, making sticky strings of your own come drip between your fingers. He groaned, and then he gasped when he watched you lick them clean. 

“Fuck, do that again.”

You dipped your fingers into yourself, coating them with your own fluids and bent down closer to the camera so he could see the gleam of your juices as your fingers slid into your waiting mouth. You used your tongue to show him how clean they were. 

He groaned loudly, a familiar sound, and you saw white streams of come burst from his rosy tip, melting down his shaft like a tall candle. 

“Bloody hell, I needed that.”

You smiled, making a mental note to charge your vibrator before you get in the shower. You needed to let off the insane tension he had just built up inside of you.

You blew him a kiss and he caught it with his free hand, 

“Me, too. Call me tomorrow?”

“No need. Tomorrow, you’re gonna get the real thing.”