#look i know it's a petty and dumb thing to be frustrated about

[horizon-penblade]

tfw all the swings at the park are occupied by people who aren't even swinging

[explode-this]

A PSA for partners/spouses/roommates, even if it seems like a kind and helpful thing to do, don’t take it upon yourself to level up another person’s battle pass for whatever game they’re playing, especially if they’re SO CLOSE and there’s still TWO DAYS in the season. Some of us have so few outlets of accomplishment in life, let us have this.

[sexcnanami]

minors dni, 18+ content

inexperienced!choso who's never felt the touch of a woman until the day he became your boyfriend. you weren't bothered by this fact and were always patient with him, often resorting to your toys whenever he would come over, leaving you hot and bothered after your make-out sessions. taking things slow was usually how you liked your relationships, but it felt different with choso. whenever you were together, your mind would always wander, thoughts ranging from how his smooth lips would feel as they trailed down your neck to how far his dick would reach if he slipped it in. as weeks turned to months, your patience begins to wear thing, causing you both to frequently get into arguments over dumb shit due to the pent up sexual frustration. but little did you know, he was experiencing the same thing. so after you were both exchanging meaningless and petty insults in your bedroom, not even remembering the small thing that made this entire thing happen, you finally say...

"If we fucked as much as we argued, I swear I'd never complain again." choso's nearly cut off guard, his realization causing for his argumentative attitude to soften.

"I-Is that what this is about?" he asks, his tone gentle. the moment you nod, he keeps himself from pulling you towards him, not wanting to instantly overstep with how upset you were. the silence in the air is unsettling, neither of you wanting to say anything after the elephant in the room has finally been addressed.

"I was worried I wouldn't be good at it, at touching you," he softly admits.

"That shouldn't mean you don't touch me at all," you retort, your voice subtly laced with sadness. without a second thought, he holds you in his arms and to his surprise, you allow it. "we can wait longer...if that's what you want." choso's eyes widened at this, looking down at you with almost anxious eyes.

"Not if it's making us fight like this," he shakes his head. the moment you look up to meet his gaze, looking into his tired, desperate eyes. you ponder your next move only for a moment before suddenly leaning up and smashing your lips against his, feeling fueled by pure frustration and the constant ache between your thighs. this catches him off guard but it doesn't take him long to start pulling at your clothes, implying that this wouldn't end in a simple make out. he was not planning on leaving you unsatisfied tonight, let alone ever again.

you help him with taking off your top, his eyes captivated by your pretty tits on display for him as you unclasp your bra, letting it drop effortlessly on the floor. that's when his breathing began to stagger, his hesitant, shy hands moving to cup your breasts, toying with them before a sharp gasp escaped him at the feeling of you palming his hardened cock through his pants. without a second thought, his lips secure themselves around one of your nipples, losing himself to the feeling of something so soft in his mouth, having you in his mouth. you can't fight the blush forming on your cheeks at the sound of his moans and how submissive he looked while sucking your tits.

he breaks away for a moment, making you feel almost shy under his gaze as he admired the hickies left behind on your skin, feeling prideful at the marks he left. once he leans toward you, his lips attack your collarbone, making you moan in pleasure. you're hesitant to truly touch him, your touch on his crotch beginning to falter before he suddenly grabs your face, capturing your lips in a heated kiss as his hands shakily pull down his pants, his dick immediately slapping against his toned abs. you don't even notice until he grabs hold of your hand, gently guiding you to wrap your soft fingers around the base of his cock. the feeling of you finally touching him alone was almost enough for him to cum instantly, but he knew he at least needed to wait, especially if there was a chance to fill you completely to brim. with his hand still wrapped around yours, his strokes are slow and steady, his breath heavy in your ear before letting go, allowing you to have your control. you study his face to gauge how he wants to be touched, watching his eyebrows knit together when your pace quickens. you lean against him, causing him to use the wall behind him for support as you jerk him off, feeling confident with the whimpers that started to pass his lips.

"Fuck, your hand feels better than I imagined," he breaths out, his tip reddening in anticipation. your ears perk up at the revelation, a subtle smirk making its way on your lips.

"You've thought about this before?" you repeat, which is met with his nod. you catch yourself chuckling at his reaction, swiftly dropping to your knees as you continued jerking him off. you watch as his eyes widen at your new position, his dick throbbing in excitement as your eyes stay on his.

"Can I taste you?" you softly ask, almost innocently as your breath fans over his tip. his breath is shaky as he vigorously nods, making a slight frown appear on your face.

"Use your words, sweetie," you boldly ask, more as a demand.

"P-Please wrap those lips around me, please," he desperately breathes out, immediately choking back a moan the moment you lean in and smoothly take him down your throat. you can't help but clench your thighs at the sounds he made, especially knowing just how close he was on the brink of cumming in your mouth from the way your tongue sloppily swirls around his tip. when you look up to meet his gaze, you're met with the pretty sight of his head thrown back against the wall, hands balled tightly by his sides as if he's about to explode at any moment. he allows you to reach the base of his dick right before he pulls himself out of your mouth, an act that both startles and confuses you.

"I want, need to be inside you," he says breathlessly, his cock twitching as he notices the line of saliva connecting your lips to the tip of him. you almost giggle at his expression, letting him help you up off your knees only to gently push you onto the bed. you prop yourself up on your elbows to look up at him with eager eyes, watching as he slides your pants down past your thighs, pulling your panties down with it to reveal your greedily sloppy pussy to his needy gaze. you feel almost shy as he hungrily looks at your heat, mindlessly pulling off the rest of your clothes while his lips part, anticipating the taste of your arousal on his lips. before you could say or do anything, his face dives into your pussy, shamelessly lapping away at your pooling arousal. his tongue works sloppily as he drives it against your cunt, your hand reaching to tug on his hair as the moans shamelessly leave your mouth. months of pent up frustration were wiping away the moment you feel yourself slipping closer to the edge, but you needed more.

"Use your fingers, baby" you groan, making his head instantly pop up from between your thighs. the sight of him alone made your legs weak, his mouth and jawline deliciously coated in your sweet arousal as he languidly meets your gaze. he's hesitant with your request, the anxiety already starting to brew and you can see it on the background of his lustful gaze. without a second thought, you grab a hold of his hand, taking his two fingers into your mouth before tracing your tongue around his digits. his eyes widen at the sight alone, watching from between your thighs as his mouth fell agape in awe at how pretty you looked. he didn't even realize that he was grinding against the mattress beneath him until he felt the wetness of his pre-cum spill onto the sheets. as you took his fingers out of your mouth, he doesn't waste a moment with plunging his soaked fingers into you, your back arching against the bed as his long digits drilled into you. his mouth latches back onto your soaked heat, devouring greedily at your cunt and you start to feel the knot in the pit of your stomach tighten, threatening to snap at any moment. your hands fisted the sheets, your release nearing closely as you can hear his soft moans, bringing more sensation to your throbbing clit. the second his fingers curl inside your pussy, you feel your orgasm slam against you and stain his face as your arousal spills out, your moans mixing with his own. his eyes widen at the result, slowly slipping his fingers out of your gummy walls as he curiously spreads your folds and making you squirm.

"This is what happens when I touch you," he says, more in acknowledgement. you weakly nod, watching as he lifts himself from between your thighs, coming to place his soaked lips onto yours and capturing you in a kiss. you could taste the sweetness lingering off of him, your sweetness.

he leans back, showcasing the wet patch on the sheets before sheepishly meeting your surprised gaze.

"You can only imagine what happens after I see you," he admits.

"I don't want to," you smirk, making him chuckle. it was safe to say that after today...you won't have to imagine anything again.

[tyunn1ngz]

Yeonjun being your ceo hubby and you both got in a argument but had to go to a party so he spent the whole night talking with other people and you got bored so you went to go dance with a guy and Yeonjun pulled you back saying

"I know we aren't in good terms at the moment but if you think I'm gonna let you be touched by another man that isn't me the you are fucking crazy"

And either you tell him to fuck off and it turns into angry sex when you both get back or he drags you out the party and he drives to a empty car park and you both fuck in the backseat 😁

UR INSANNEEEEEEEEEEEE. cw hes kinda mean and hypocritical ? idk also i got so carried away w this dont ask me why its 1k words i literally dk what happened,,,,

no bc i imagine it would be something sooooo petty, something that clearly needed to just be chatted about but the time just slips and suddenly your attitude is just through the roof while you have to converse at this stupid party with a bunch of snobs who you decide in the heat of your anger he’s just like (you know he’s not)

and every word yeonjun speaks just serves to piss you off more >:( that dumb smile on his face like he didn’t upset you and then cater to everyone else with such ease. pretending like everything’s okay, like how dare he ! 🙄

the final straw being that maybe he laughs a little too loud at one of his employees jokes, leaned a little too close in to hear them, allowed touches that linger too long to be friendly intentions; all while he’s almost completely ignored you all evening, when you were only here for him anyway— all dolled up just for him to argue with you and then ignore you.

so you take your interest elsewhere, allowing whatever guest next hits you with a ‘no pretty little thing like you should be pouting like that’ to be your entertainment.

it doesn’t work as intended at first, your eyes consistently darting back and forth between this stranger and yeonjun, who seemingly doesn’t pay you any mind. you deflate a little, chugging back the rest of the champagne in your glass.

and then, this stranger, who you have yet to gain the name of, tries to touch you. he starts with a click of his tongue, grinning as he tilts his head a little. ‘come on, darling. don’t look so sad. i’ll keep you company… get you another drink?’ and his hands begin a slide for your waist.

alas! he’s abruptly stopped by a grasp on his wrist, tight and practically a chokehold around the limb. you know those fingers anywhere.

‘they’re fine. thanks.’ yeonjun says, composed and completely nonchalant on the surface of his tone. but you can see his grip must hurt, can hear the dip of frustration in his voice.

and then you’re being lead by his hands, gentle loving touch ever not present, until the breeze of night air bites at your skin. you frown, and pull yourself free from his clutch, standing before him looking just as frustrated as he seems to feel.

‘the hell are you doing?’ to which he scoffs a laugh, cold as the temperature that wisps at your face in bursts of wind.

‘the fuck are you doing?’

your brows furrow, anger settling under your skin again, your whole body tense. ‘what the fuck’s that supposed to mean?’

‘were you just going to let him lay his hands on you? you seemed real comfortable.’ he’ll tell you, tongue in cheek. it’s unbelievable, completely ironic that you feel maniacal.

‘you can’t be fucking serious,’ you smile despite yourself, ‘you cannot be fucking serious, yeonjun.’

silence falls over you two for a moment, every ticking second he just looks more and more pissed. you stand there practically urging him on, disbelief written across your features in such clear displays. yet, he’s still quiet, and somehow it scares you just a little. but fuck, he’s such a hypocrite! you’re the bad guy when he had hands on himself all night with no protest? you are the one in trouble like he didn’t ignore you all alone at his work party?

‘let’s go.’

you’re broken from your reverie of rageful stomping thoughts, the build up of all the mean things you want to scream at him quickly fading. now a little thrown off by the calmness of his voice, tone void of any actual emotion, your mouth drops open a little despite nothing to say.

‘huh?’

‘i said, we’re going.’

dumbfounded, you find yourself tugged along again, towards the car park where you think an awkward, tense ride home will await you. where you expect a pillow and spare blanket thrown haphazardly over the couch by the end of the night.

the last thing on your mental list to expect is being pushed up against the passenger side door, caged in with a finger under your chin, a hand on your hips. your eyes are frantic in search of explanation as you look up at your husband in shock.

his thumb moves to your lips, pressing into the soft flesh where you've already parted in a quiet gasp. yeonjun grins a little, eyes dark and full of mirth.

‘you've had an attitude all day, baby,' he'll say, 'you know well there's nobody else for me than you, hm? no matter how bratty you get with me.'

you gently bite as his finger in retort, 'still doesn't explain your sudden work wife, does it?'

his grin widens, a tad scary in terms of trying to provoke a more negative response. 'just like you throwing yourself at my coworker, yeah? bit desperate for attention, don't you think?'

you bristle, 'he was keeping me company while you whored yourself out, but okay.'

he doesn't falter like you want him to, but his hands tighten on you. he tilts his head.

'yeah? why don't you go back inside to him then? think he could fuck you right, sweetheart?'

oh.

you twitch a little, breath exhaled less confident than before, and he's quick to notice it with such a smug smile. you want to wipe it right off his face, but you fear everything you've built yourself up with tonight is quickly crumbling down.

'maybe he could.' but he can hear how unsure you sound, and he laughs. he's condescending you now. yeonjun hums, leaning closer.

'you don't sound so confident. what makes you think he could handle your attitude, anyway?'

you lack the words, the bite, falling so quiet as he stares at you intently. eyes trained on every tiny change your body language gives him. your eyes stare back, already glassy while your lips start to pout. but you snark once more.

'fuck you.'

it's a haze. because before you can even begin to think of saying anything further, he's got you in his backseat. you're bent over, his chest to your back, your attire completely dishevelled and underwear ripped down your legs, as he fucks into you so hard you know you'll feel it for days to come.

he pants hotly right into your ear, ‘you can be mad at me all you want, baby, but nobody touches you except me, you understand that?’

you can only mewl in response, already too fucked out as the pleasure turns your brain into mush. however, he’s not satisfied with that, and with a grunt he reels his hand back to lay a loud slap on the fat of your ass.

‘i asked you a question, i expect a fucking answer. or are you already too fucking stupid on my cock to talk?’

you sob, nodding your head frantically while you try to hold yourself up on trembling limbs. ‘yes, yes. i understand’

his thrusts manage to grow rougher, and you fall forward until your face presses into the leather of the seats.

‘so cute when you cry. you ready to apologise to me? hm? tell me you’re sorry for being such a brat to me.’

‘m’sorry!’ you cry, another spank this time landing on your thigh, ‘m’sorry, ‘jun. won’t happen again.’

he laughs as he throws his head back, hands on your hips to fuck you on his cock. he’s breathless but it’s so so hot.

‘liar. i’ve spoilt you too much. all you know now is how to get what you want. and this is what you wanted? for me to fuck some sense into you?’

you know it’s technically not true, he knows that too, but you start nodding frantically regardless. the haze of your pleasure renders you to his complete mercy.

‘yes! i’m sorry. just need you. always need you.’

‘you have me, angel.’ he grunts on a particularly harsh jolt of his hips, cock hitting a deeper angle as you cry out so loud you almost miss his words.

‘y’always have me. let me prove it to you? want me to knock you up? m’gonna make you a mommy.’

[vamph00n]

idea, but idk if you take ideas

reader gets turned on by hoon’s vampire like features, and convinces him to rp as one while they’re fucking

mdni

tags: femreader, vampire kink, mentions of the twilight movies, hoon is jealous obv.

*not proofread will do later

wc: 1,2k

smut tags under the cut

i added my own lil spin on it annonie~ mainly cause i’ve been rewatching twilight rndjsoskdndknsla

smut tags: biting kink, implications of sex, dirty talk, chest groping, etc

he doesn’t know how many times you watched those stupid twilight movies. all he knew is that you fawned over some guy in those films with the most victorian name ever. he wasn’t your type and sunghoon was sure of it, why would he be your type when he; your boyfriend, was right there? nah, he didn’t like that you thought of any other men than him. even if he was fictional.

you had all the books too, along with whatever smutty literature he saw on that well dusted shelf in your house. you lived in those dirty fantasies when he was right there. the way you’d kick your feet and giggle while watching those movies. it really pissed him off, it was all imaginary, pretend. it was stupid for him to be so jealous, but god there was one thing he hated the most about your little hyper fixation…

well, the thing is sunghoon doesn’t want to come off as a pissy bitch. he’ll happily go along with whatever endeavors you put him through. it’s just when you make him watch the same few movies with you again, he felt his ego shrink every passing second spent staring at robert pattinson play a vampire. especially when your comments consisted of comparisons between him and edward whats-his-face’s character.

“look at him hoon, he’s like all sparkly in the sun, n’ he has like this mad gaze.” Your eyes pan over to your boyfriend, watching him stare at the tv blankly, in a boredom induced daze.

he’s tuning out what you’re saying, because well, it makes him feel somewhat inadequate. it’s so rare for him to feel this way. he’s so self assured, maybe even a little egotistical sometimes. how can he not be? you yourself loaded up his little brain with compliments and ideas. saying how he’s the man of your fucking dreams, or the way your body contorted in different ways, becoming helpless when he did so little as touching you. hell yeah, you made him feel so damn special.

with his brows furrowed at the screen, he sees your odd stare from the corner of his eye. why do anything to reassure you of what you were thinking in that moment? he knows you, he can practically read your mind. before diverting your attention back to the screen a scoff leaves your mouth. call him petty or whatever you want, he just wants to get through watching this god forsaken movie for the millionth time without his brain frying.

sunghoon is so ridged. his arms are crossed, and he’s like, all stiff. whatever, you can deal with it. although it’s frustrating that he’s so oblivious.

you find yourself scooting closer, leaning and commenting on the movie. with each sentence you say, you can feel his dreary attitude loom over. it’s given, you’ve forced him to death watch your silly little movies to the point where he himself can recite each word.

“he’s like, —i don’t know. like can you imagine? getting puncture wounds, and hickeys at the same—“

that’s where sunghoon draws the line.

“can you shut up?”

dang. he was livid. you have right to your own thoughts but to think like that? when he’s right there? when he can well rip off your panties and fuck you the way this guy can’t because it’s all speculative? all you had to do was let him, just ask and he’ll deliver. you know it.

but then again, you boyfriend is as dense as concrete and dumb as bricks sometimes. guess you’d have to give him a nudge, a hint too probably.

“i mean, can you imagine what’s it like to be a vampire?”

you’ve practically told him what you wanted, and he still has that red cloudy look of jealousy with somewhat of a frown on his face and his overgrown bangs shading his eyes. if he wasn’t upset, you’d tell him how cute he looks right now. how dumb he is, is also what you’d tell him. then again you weren’t exactly being straightforward.

with your question slipping in one ear and out the other, he just tunes you out. yeah it’s pathetic he feels so strongly about something so meaningless, could he help it though? he was insane about you.

your eyes darken as you grab the remote, and thank goodness you turned it off. sunghoon finds you sliding on of your legs over his thighs as you take a seat. you gaze into his eyes, he looks annoyed. he’s suppressing the urge to just fuck the stupid crush you had on that twilight vampire out of you. it makes you laugh at how blind he is. nevermind, you probably had to spell it out for him.

“you can do that. you can bite me here, and here-“

you drag your two fingers indicating where he could, and his breath hitches. it’s like all his senses are tingly, and piercing. his ears are ringing, with the rush of adrenaline and the newfound excitement he had. just hearing you describe what you wanted him to do.

you saw his jaw hang slack, as you merely told him what you wanted. tracing your fingers down your abdomen and to your thighs, you tap on the fleshy inner part.

“you can bite here too.”

his hands grab your hips, he gets it now. he slides a hand up your shirt holding your chest. your mind drives him crazy. his touch sends shivers down your spine.

“here too?” he asks asks, so politely.

it makes you heat up, and become more wet than your imagination allowed. when you thought of him like the cold blooded undead he resembled so much, it made you infatuated with the idea of it. the idea of him. how could he not see it? when you drew comparisons that surely pointed towards his own features that you loved so much.

his pretty skin glows in the dim light of your living room unlike of that portrayed in the movie. he’s real, and right here.

“didn’t you ever think, perhaps..” you say it so sweetly as you feel his hand roam around your body.

before you can finish your sentence, your breath is cut short. your back is now against the cushions of the couch, and his arms trap you beneath him. sunghoon wonders how he got so lucky, to have someone like you to show him all the ways he can make you wet. your so sick and twisted, not for your little fantasy you wanted him to indulge in, but the fact you didn’t just tell him straight up. he ought to punish you.

he’ll let it slide though. partially because he feels his cock twitch restrained by his pants, and because he’s so willing to do what you ask of him. he knows this is the just the beginning, and honestly he’ll have fun woh it. so with his lips ghosting your neck, and his hot breath up against your ear he asks you a question.

“tell me what else you want me to do as your vampire. sweetheart”

copyright @vamph00n 2024

[kairiscorner]

do one where peter accidentally catches miguel giggling and smiling like a dumb ahh bc of our rizz on text 🤪🤪 (ooc ik but let me live k)

ofc dracuilina bc i wanna see that too :> HOPE YA LIKE THIS MWEHEHEHHEE

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

photo creds: @atreus1526 on tiktok !! (though i got the pic from pinterest, do lmk if they have a tumblr !!)

a/n: yes, i finally made something like a text fic, sorry if it isn't very good 😭😭😭 also if anyone steals it, two things: 1) why would you 2) i will fuck you up don't you dare (・∀・)

when you rizzed him up too good – miguel o'hara x reader

miguel was having a slow day at HQ, not many anomalies needed to be captured and sent back to their home dimensions, and no canon events were disrupted any time this week. it was a little too quiet in the usually rowdy and chaotic halls of the spider society, what broke the pure silence that filled his dim office was the sound of your text.

miguel saw your messages, and immediately texted you back. he could never leave you on read for too long, that was his guilty secret. he loved, yet hated, indulging you–you always got a little too comfortable and sometimes pushed his buttons, but he loved you nonetheless.

miguel sighed as he saw those three white dots dancing on his screen, and he was questioning why his profile picture had his sleeping face with a horse's ass on the blanket. he should've burned that gift from peter b, he never should've accepted any gift from that man.

his phone dinged and tore the silence asunder with another message from you.

and he thought that'd be the end of it–well, partially thought, because it was you he was talking to–but it clearly wasn't. and nothing could prepare him for the next couple of messages you sent him.

he sounded desperate, but he kept reminding himself he wasn't desperate, you were desperate–he was just giving you what you wanted. which was what he also wanted. badly. right now. especially when he had barely anything to do.

he felt his cheeks heat up and his eyebrows furrowing out of a unique kind of frustration, one that didn't fully piss him off, but made him wish something. wish that... he was there with you, could have that steamy hot shower date with you and just...

fuck, you decided to be all cutesy again. you know how much that riles him up. and makes him do things he usually wouldn't be caught doing.

he felt a small smile crack on his face as he saw your little kaomojis, your petty texts of sarcastic revenge, and how snarky you could be... it made his heart beat a little faster, made the muscles in his cheeks raise and his smile widen; you made him chuckle. that was how much he loved you, loved everything about you, and you made him go a little crazy over you and your natural charms.

it was just then that peter b swung into miguel's office all casually, asking him if he's seen the horse ass blanket that he gave miguel. "yeah, uh, that was apparently a wedding anniversary gift mj got me. if i don't get it soon, i–" peter b rambled as he looked up at miguel, who was preoccupied with his phone.

he raised an eyebrow at two things: 1) miguel knew how to use a phone? 2) was he... smiling?

peter b swung over behind miguel and peered over his shoulder, seeing his texts with you for a hot second before miguel whipped his head around and replaced the gleeful grin from earlier into a frightening scowl.

"parker." he greeted him monotonously as miguel put his phone away. peter b smiled, knowing that you made miguel's day a little brighter. "nevermind, keep the blanket." he said as he pat miguel's shoulder and swung back out of his office, trying to keep in the urge to laugh aloud at the image of miguel's head sticking out with the horse's ass on the blanket.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @fiannee @arachnoia @fictarian @yuridopted0 @ophanimgold @meeom @melovetitties

[princessbrunette]

can you do jj spitting in the reader’s mouth after making her call him dad

basing this around the episode where jj dressed up as a paramedic because that was one of his sexiest looks n people moved on from that too fast !!!!!!!!!

𐙚🐈‍⬛⋆.˚❆

jj was not the responsible one in the group. jj, was the fun one! the trouble maker, the reckless loose canon, mr ‘stupid things have good outcomes all the time’. he was not responsible, let alone strict.

that was until he met you.

he couldn’t believe half the things that came out of his mouth. like, ‘do your jacket up, now.’ who even says that? he couldn’t stand the thought of you in trouble, couldn’t bear for you to do any of the dumb things that he’d normally do, and he would never ever in his power let anything or anyone pierce through your skin and hurt you. not a chance, you’d have to get through him first.

thinking that this change of his went unnoticed is a laughable offence. he was consistently ridiculed with ‘wow, who are you and what did you do to our best friend?’ — and that he could take, usually laughing it off with a petty tongue in his cheek— wondering the same damn thing. but you, well — you had taken it upon yourself to don him a brand new nickname.

‘dad’

it made him huff, nostrils flaring and nose tip twitching upwards like it physically made him itch everytime it slipped from your mouth. “thanks, dad.” you’d giggle when he’d stop you in your tracks to tie your shoe before you went tumbling over yourself. “sorry dad!” you’d whisper in amusement when he would send you a tight lipped look that meant shut up and listen. “please, dad?” you’d emphasise deviously when he’d deny you the permission to do something reckless.

the worst part is, it made his dick hurt. no not throb, not stiffen— hurt. the sentiment made him wanna fuck into you in a way that strays from his usual pipe game. no cheeky quips with a thumb on your clit having eased his length in inch by inch, no— none of that. he means a headlock, or full nelson or something ridiculous and a deep hard fucking that makes you cry.

you’d been a pain in the ass on this little mission of his that he didn’t want to let you on in the first place. it involved a failed jail break, a stolen ambulance and paramedic uniforms. well, he wore the white all-in-one paramedic suit and the navy cap with the logo on it, and you — you sat pretty in the passenger side wearing a polo top with the hospital logo and a black mini skirt. he said if the two of you get caught, it’s on you and your ‘sex shop costume adjacent’ get up.

in hindsight, it was clear you were feeling him in the uniform from the start, looking at him all unfocused and doe eyed whilst he rambles about the plan on the drive there, sucking on that juicy bottom lip and all.

“dude— are you listening? john b’s livelihood is on the line here. we gotta take action.” he barely glances at you as he steers the ambulance, which only makes you want it more.

“yes, dad.”

it’s dad this, dad that— all the way up until you’re panting in the back of kie’s car— having escaped a police chase with no john b in tow. jj was frustrated, full of adrenaline, and turned the fuck on— which is why your panties were around your ankles as soon as he got you back to your empty home.

infact, the pink lace underwear was still binding your ankles when he had your knees pressed to your chest, his all-in-one uniform pulled down off his body just enough to have his dick out, fucking into you mercilessly with a hand around your neck. you’re totally fucked our already, moaning and squealing uncontrollably— and the cap still resides on jj’s head as he grits his teeth, talking down to you.

“nah, call me what you wanna call me— go ‘head, you know i’ve been waitin’ on it to slip out. who am i, babydoll? fuckin’ tell me.” his voice grits and his cheeks are all pink, still cute despite everything.

“d—ugh!” you can’t get it out, because he’s hammering into the spot now, and you’re nearly there. also, you chickened out. you both knew you were into it, this whole ‘dad’ thing— but there’s pride involved. embarrassment. the self awareness that you’d be a wet dream for a freud-following-psychology-student.

“come on,” he chuckles but it’s angry. “say that shit. loud n’clear baby i’m listening.”

“dad, please! wanna cum, dad!” you cry, and it’s this big burst of emotion, because you’re somewhat humiliated— feeling exposed over your kink that had been thinly veiled as a joke until this very moment. his jaw drops for a second after you say it, like he can’t contain the pleasure flooding out of him— but he gains control again in a second, authority seeping into him. his hand loosens from your neck, instead choosing to thumb at your bottom lip.

“yeah, yeah that’s right. that’s what i thought. so you do know how to be a good girl, got it. now open up.”

you don’t, so he tugs your jaw open with his thumb and leans in, spitting a big wet glob of spit into your mouth, smearing what didn’t go in around your swollen lips and laughing at you. sick, sick man. “you like that shit, huh?” and you really did.

he stops getting so antsy and irritated in the future when you drop the nickname on him in public after that point. now he knows what it really means.

𐙚🐈‍⬛⋆.˚❆

[minispidey]

Hey doll, walk with me…you and Oscar (any of his characters really) get into an argument, haven’t spoken for a few weeks (he’s away on business), when he gets home, you start arguing again…next thing you know you’re in bed, begging to cum.

PETTY ARGUMENTS.

Miguel O'Hara x f!reader.

Word count: 750

Warnings: orgasm denial, implied penetration but mostly just him rubbing the hell out of your clit 💅 fluff and aftercare

In a nutshell: You're mad Miguel threw your ugly ass coat, you two didn't even finish the argument when he gets called for work. A week later, he comes back and you rip his coat as revenge 🤌 aanddd yeah

mdni

MIGUEL O'HARA oh lord

"That's fucking bullshit and we both know that! It's just a fucking coat, Miguel." You yelled at him, covering your face with both of your hands in frustration.

"Exactly. It's just a fucking coat! You can buy another one. That one barely suits you!"

"What the fuck did you just say?!" Your blood boiled. It was like you were seeing red. Your hands curled into fists, crescent marks forming on the palms of your hands because of your nails.

"Cariño, I'm sorry. I worded that wrong." Miguel walks closer to you "I'm sorry. I just mean that it's a hideous coat, alright?"

"Fucking— there's a thing called sentimental value, Miguel!"

"I'll buy you a new one, I promise-"

"Fuck you!" You slammed your bedroom door closed. He really fucked up.

Acting like an absolute brat tbh he just wants to fuck the tantrum out of you but uh-oh, work is calling 🤸‍♀️

You spent hours in your bedroom, the comforter wrapped around your body. You waited for him to come apologize but it looks like he wasn't going to any time soon.

It was until you left the room when you realized Miguel left.

You feel your blood boil but you waited for until he came back... which is a week later.

You played a drinking game. A glass of wine for every thought you had of you strangling Miguel. You end up drunk each day.

As the front door opens, Miguel steps in. He takes off his coat, hanging it before walking to the kitchen to you with a glass of wine.

You stared at him, still disappointed in him. You chugged the remaining wine before pouring another. But you stop, looking at coat on the hooks.

You got off the bar stool, sprinting towards his coat and grabbing it. Miguel saw what you were doing and pried the coat away from your grasp "Are you seriously still pissed off about that dumb coat?"

"You fucking left for a week! How do you expect me to react?"

"I gave you space and time to cool off."

"It doesn't change the fact you threw my coat!"

"I'm sorry, okay? Honey, come on-"

"Fuck you!" You pulled on his coat, ripping the sleeve. We both stopped. Miguel looked at his coat and his eyes turned red "Are you happy?"

"Very."

Next thing you know, you're bent over the kitchen island. His bulge pressed against your ass. He leans in close, his voice a seductive whisper against your ear "I'm going to take my time with you, darling," he murmurs, his words dripping with desire "You wanna be a brat? I'll fuck it out of you."

Miguel's touch on your clit maddeningly slow, each caress driving you to the edge and back. He skillfully navigates your body, his fingers and lips expertly exploring every sensitive spot. His voice is a velvety rasp as he murmurs words of praise and encouragement, his breath hot against your skin.

"Miggy!" you moaned out as he continues to push you to the brink, his touch becoming more intense with each passing moment. His voice guides you through the sensations, his words a mix of praise and playful taunting.

As you reach the edge, Miguel's voice fills the room, his words a seductive command "Hold on, Cariño..." he murmurs, his voice filled with authority "No cumming."

He brings you to the precipice time and time again, his touch relentless yet tender. Each denial only intensifies the desire, the need for release becoming a burning ache within you "Miggy.... 'm sorry..." you whimpered "Wanna cum..."

Miguel grinds his hard-on against your ass as he continued his continuous torture on your clit "You're sorry? I doubt it."

"Miggy, please. I'm really sorry, honey... I c-can't take it anymore please let me cum."

"You gonna bitch out over your coat again? Hm?"

"No, Miggy... I won't... please let me cum..."

Eventually yk he fucks the shit out of you with his cock, and at the end of it he grabs something from his bag and hands it to you.

"I washed it myself."

It was your coat.

"Miggy, why didn't you tell me earlier before I ripped your coat? Now I feel bad."

"I deserved it for throwing your coat away. I'm sorry, mi vida. I never wanted to upset you." Miguel kisses your forehead, placing your body in a warm bubble bath "I'm gonna spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I promise you that."

[zuppizup]

Touch

July 5th: Hands/Touch-starved

The pain never leaves. Not really. Some days are better than others, of course. She's busy or distracted, or the burn is just dull enough that she can ignore it, but really, she doesn't think there's been a day in over two years where her wrist hasn't hurt.

It burns now, hot and obtrusive, pushing her to twist and turn in a cycle she knows is pointless. Only distraction will ease this ache, and lying in a bedroll, hoping desperately to catch perhaps a few more hours sleep before sunrise, there is precious little distraction.

She’d have given up, if she were alone. Accepted that sleep would be impossible for now, and at least tried to make some kind of use of her early start, but Callum is sleeping soundly beside her, and he deserves to rest.

Huffing, she blinks past frustrated tears. All she wants is to sleep; to have one day of peace but she knows this persistent pain is more than a fair price. She was the one who bound herself to this sentence and ultimately it is less than what she should be serving.

After all, she's lucky to even have her hand.

“Rayla, are you awake?”

She starts at the sound of Callum’s voice, cursing herself for waking him. “Not really,” she tries to reassure him. “Just trying to get comfy.” She turns, smiling reassuringly at him.

“What's wrong?” Callum shuffles a little closer to her, frowning.

“Nothing.” Her breath catches in her throat while she scrambles for something to say. It’s a stupid thing to complain about, small and petty, but she is too distracted by the pain and the lack of sleep to come up with something believable, something less pathetic.

“Rayla,” he sounds disbelieving. Maybe even disappointed. He’s shuffling closer to her, giving her an opportunity. An opening.

Trust.

“My wrist is bothering me,” she sighs, not wanting him to worry about this minor thing.

Callum's face falls, illuminated by the dying embers of their campfire.

“It’s nothing,” she quickly insists, instinctively rubbing the aching joints as she waves him off with a waggle of her fingers.

Sighing, Callum looks unconvinced. “Is there anything I can do? An ice spell?”

Rayla smiles at him, mind taken off the pain a little by his questions and concern. “It’s fine. This helps.” She raises her wrist to show him how she’s cradling it with her other hand. “Cold weirdly makes it burn more.”

Callum frowns again, eyes on where she’s clutching her arm. “Heat helps though?”

“Yeah-” Rayla responds instinctively before she registers he’s removing his gloves and reaching for her. “It’s- Don’t worry, really. You need your sleep-”

“My hands are a lot bigger than yours.” Callum smiles softly at her. “And I’ve also got two.” He nods expectantly at her wrist, shuffling his bedroll a little closer to hers.

Not really knowing what to say to that, Rayla blushes as she extends her hand. Which is probably dumb. They’ve held hands since she came back. Touched and hugged and that.

He’s just warming her wrist.

Still, she cannot quell the butterflies when he wraps his deliciously warm hands around her aching wrist.

He rubs gently, fingers moving softly over her arm, slipping under the cuff of her tunic and across her skin. He holds her hand close to his face, his warm breath ghosting across her palm for a moment before he presses his lips against the back of her hand.

“Better?” He smiles expectantly at her, still caressing her wrist as he holds her hand close to his chest.

She thinks she can feel the rapid thump of his heartbeat as he does so.

“Better.” It comes out barely above a whisper.

He provides a more than adequate distraction.

[chaifootsteps]

that just an oreo vid pointed out yet more ways the episode doesn't work that I didn't even pick up on at first

specifically he points out the episode frames Verosika as being in the right for being mad at Blitz breaking up with her and it being OK for her to be endlessly hung up and bitter at him over it

but when Blitz is rightfully upset that Stolas starts making out with someone else right in front of him after acting like he wanted to work things out between them, Verosika tells him to stop and that being a better person means just letting go of all his anger immediately

besides Verosika knowing nothing about what actually happened between Stolas and Blitz, it's another double standard - Verosika, Stolas and a whole party full of people can be angry at and hung up on Blitz for as long as they want for whatever petty reason they chose (Dennis is there, after all) and it's totally a therapy group session and not petty at all

but Blitz isn't allowed to be frustrated with or annoyed at Stolas for ditching him to make out with someone else literal seconds after he gave Stolas the apology the owl had been psychologically battering him for all episode???

it feels dumb even analysing it, because the answer is so obviously: anything anyone wants to do or say to Blitz is fair game, even if they weren't actually dating (naming no names, Stolas) but any feeling he has in return is invalid - in fact it's proof of his immaturity and fear of commitment

I already thought Apology Tour was bad but I was willing to look at the Verosika scene as the high point of the episode. in hindsight that was just because it was the one part of the episode outside of the apology montage that didn't have Stolas in it.

It really feels like Blitz is in an abusive relationship with both the show itself and his own creator. his feelings just don't matter anymore; they're only ever proof of how bad he is that he doesn't just sacrifice his autonomy immediately to shove himself down into the small space of being Stolas' romantic fantasy that the show has decided is the only acceptable path for him and the only way he can have character development that's good or acceptable

It's all true, and it makes for a completely joyless viewing experience. Not only will Blitzo never escape his abusive relationship, he won't even be allowed the respite of having his feelings acknowledged as valid. He's just unequivocally wrong, and if you feel otherwise, then Viv doesn't like you as an audience member much and she doesn't care who knows it.

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Sorry its me again from the matter manipulation request I forgot to add their personality.Their personality is more like Quiet,calm I wouldn't call them a villian but they are also afraid of their own ability and they can't control lets say that they're a 2nd grade because they struggle with manipulating matter even tho it's like POWERFUL but they just struggle with it.

(Their power is like atom eve but they can control humans aswell since they can control atoms and molecules like changing ppl,their dna and stuff)

Gojo

Back in high school, he’d find ways to annoy you the most, not because he didn’t like you but because for a long time he thought you were shy and needed to get out of your shell.

He also was curious about your powers: always asking if you could make something smaller or bigger for him, make regular tea into boba tea, if you could shrink all of them and possibly start a war with the giant ant hill in the courtyard. Mostly it was just to tease you and get you to talk to him even if it was you constantly denying his requests.

He finds your low confidence in your gift a huge waste of potential, and it’s a bit frustrating for him to watch. He thinks you should have more confidence in yourself.

Even still, he knows you well enough by now that he has all your little worries and habits pegged whether it’s itching, nail biting, tapping, he can see all your nervousness, and also make it disappear with a single inappropriate joke.

You’re a calm and quiet person, which he says makes it much more special when he’s finally able to crack a smile from you or get you worked up over some dumb scheme he’s concocted.

Well into young adulthood, he continues to bug you about doing silly little things with your powers for him. He doesn’t think you picked up on the fact that he asks for these little things to help you practice your skills and new abilities without you noticing.

Geto

Geto is really fond of you. He has been ever since you notice him making a disgusted scrunch after choking down curses on a mission, and how you used your powers to literally make them an easier pill to swallow by shrinking them.

He finds you to be a soothing presence like Shoko, another calm compared to Satoru’s storm with Geto himself somewhere in the middle. It makes a good dynamic.

He spends a lot of time trying to help you come to terms with your power. He always defends you when Satoru would use your fear of your power against you in petty fights.

Suguru is always trying to make sure you’re comfortable with everything going on around them. He tries to make sure you don’t get teased too much, and he always has a calm way of talking to you that convinces you to join in with the others more. You’re observant of everyone else so he wants to return the favor and look out for you too.

He swears you have nothing to worry about when it comes to using your powers. If things go wrong, he’ll help you figure it out. Although, he does enjoy how happy you get when you get something right, likes to pat your head.

After he defects from Jujutsu High, he gives you the offer to come with him. You wouldn’t have to feel pressured to use your powers anymore if you did. He wants all sorcerers to live a free life especially you. 

Nanami

Your personality makes you more favorable to him than other people. He knows your potential is strong and respects you for understanding, accepting, and trying to manage yourself to avoid hurting others. It’s the slow and steady method. However, this still causes him to underestimate you at times and overly worry about your mental wellbeing.

He does his best to protect you and give you direction, taking the lead even when your technique is realistically better for most situations.

You have to study a lot to learn all the different things you can do with your technique and so you both can bond over being readers and take each other’s suggestions on books or television programs.

However, there’s not really any other times where the two of you can be around each other a lot due to your grade difference and you’re both not the type to seek others out unless you need something so the relationship remains at a respectable level to friendship.

Megumi

The two of you get along fairly well since you’re both quiet people. However, that means that when you spend time together, there isn’t much talking as there is enjoying the company of someone else, which causes the two of you to get teased a bit as a quiet duo.

You’re both the second grades in your group, and you both got mental hangups about your powers. When Megumi notices this in you as well, he tries to help out, repeating what Gojo says about being greedier, but he gets a little embarrassed and says to ignore his rambling when you still seem confused by it.

He enjoys working with you, your powers open up endless possibilities to use in battle, and he wants to be able to think of more creative ways to use his powers in the way that you can so he finds your technique pretty/interesting to watch.

Megumi is a little more self-conscious around you. You’re very quiet and calm, maybe serious, he isn’t entirely sure because you don’t speak your mind a lot. He doesn’t judge you for it because he can be the same way.

He doesn’t feel the need to pressure you into speaking more than what’s comfortable. When you become better friends, he realizes he likes having your company without the pressure to entertain you.

He thinks you’re the best one in the school who can understand all of his worries. Itadori and Kugisaki understand him well, but he thinks maybe with you it’s more mutual), or at least he hopes he’s the same for you. 

Extra: You’d probably be able to learn from Yuki Tsukino as well. She doesn’t exactly have matter manipulation, but her mass manipulation technique could probably inspire some ideas. It would also lead you to being like teammates with the ever-boisterous Aoi Todo.

[heuhuewaves]

is it casual now?

this fic is for the @harringrovesummerbingo 2024 event!

prompt: B1 "sitting in the dark"

summary: billy is forced to stick next to steve during a storm.

content warnings: internalized homophobia, angst, mentions of smut, casual by chappel roan inspiration

word count: 1.3k

Not enough light. Not enough space. Too much to say.

That’s all Billy could think of. He didn’t really plan to be stuck in Scoops Ahoy. Especially not with the boy who he considered to have broken his heart. Steve was the last person he wanted to be stuck with. But it’s not like he could just get up and leave. The summer rain was no joke and didn’t look like it was stopping any time soon. So getting into the camaro and driving as far away as possible from this was out of the question. 

Somehow the brunette had convinced Billy to stay with him at the shop. Of course he had feelings for Steve, regardless of the fucked up shit he had done. 

So yes, Billy had agreed to huddle behind the ice cream counter with nothing but a flashlight pointed at the ceiling. At least it gave them some form of light.

“This thing should last us about an hour. We can go from there once it dies.” Steve announced as he took a seat next to Billy.  The blonde distanced himself, scooting over a few inches. Steve sighed out of irritation. It was almost a play by play of the night Steve called things off. Billy knew that they couldn’t be together. Especially not in the middle of nowhere, Indiana.

People just wouldn’t understand.

“Really?” Was all Steve said in response to Billy’s choice of personal space.

“Yes, really.”  Billy said as he continued to do anything but look at the other boy in the face. He couldn’t understand how Steve could be so nonchalant about what happened between them. They shared intimacy together. Billy met Steve’s parents the one time they were actually home, as a friend of course. It still counted to Billy as much as it would’ve been if Steve actually told his parents the truth.

“Yes mom and dad this is Billy. Sometimes I let him Fuck me on your guys’ couch. No big deal.”

In Billy’s mind, it didn’t feel that hard to have to admit. The other half of his mind was telling him the opposite. If he would’ve said something like that Neil, he would’ve gotten a black eye. He somewhat understood. If only that were enough to mend the heartbreak he had felt for the past few months. 

Steve sighed again before speaking once more. “This petty bullshit is dumb Billy. We graduated a month ago and you’re still acting like a little fucking kid. You can’t keep dealing with all your problems by shutting people out.” Steve would say that was one of the main reasons why he cut Billy off. Anytime he got mad and Harrington attempted to talk to him about it, it was impossible to hold a single conversation without Billy lashing out.

Ok, what the fuck do you know? Was all Billy could think of in response. Of course he didn’t say it out loud. Steve didn’t deserve a response in his mind anyway. 

A few moments passed with silence. The striking sound of thunder from the outside made Steve jump up from his slumped position. He hated loud noises. He could barely stand the sound of the engine of Billy’s camaro. 

Hargrove was laughing at the tensing of the brunette’s  body.

“What’s so fuckin’ funny?” Steve asked with frustration.

Billy continued to laugh as he swept some of his mullet out of his face.“There’s no one else in the store so… that only leaves one person left.” 

“Figures you’d only wanna talk to me when it’s to put me down.” Harrington rolled his eyes.

“You did the same shit to me dude. Don’t get mad about it now.” 

Both of the boys were now staring each other in the eyes. Anger filling both pairs. Neither of them planned on backing down from each other. 

The clash of the titans was imminent at this point.

“God you’re so sensitive hargrove.” 

“I'm sensitive? Yeah, ok.”

“Yeah you are.” Steve started up again, riled up. “You’re a crybaby who can’t take rejection, or reality for that matter! We had something casual once. That’s it. It meant nothing.” 

“Me making you cum on yourself isn’t casual Steve.” Billy said in a much calmer tone than the other boy. It even took him by surprise. He was the last person to be rational and keep his cool during situations like this.

Maybe the heartache was making him numb to all of this.

Steve ultimately knew that the blonde had a point. But there was no way they would survive together. Living a double life wasn’t for Steve. Hooking up with a guy behind his girlfriend’s back and then hooking up with said girlfriend right after was mentally draining.

He just wished Billy would understand that.

Steve ran his hands through his hair, forming the words and putting them together. “I can’t do this double life shit dude. My parents.” Harrington paused. When Steve said parents, he mostly meant his dad. He was pretty sure his mom couldn’t care less. His dad would never live with a queer as a son. 

His words, not Steve’s.

“My parents would kill me. I would lose everything.”

All Billy could hear was excuses. 

“We’re fucking 18 years old. You don’t have shit to lose.” Billy snapped back. Steve looked down to the floor they were sitting on. “You knew what you were getting into when you decided to kiss me for the first time. That was your choice Steve, not mine. Stop blaming the fact that you can’t accept who you are on me.” 

Then it went quiet. Billy crossed his arms and Steve began to scratch the back of his head. Both of them had seemingly spoken their minds. As if knowing this, the mall lights began to power back on. 

The buzz of the luminents began to surround the room. 

Billy could finally get up and set himself free.

But for whatever reason, he didn’t. He stayed put. 

Then there was the eye contact again. Both of the boys were diving into each other’s eyes. Just like how they used to at the beginning of the school year.

Billy ultimately knew he had to get away.

“I need to get going-” As he attempted to get up, Steve grabbed his arm. The grip was hard, but it had a different energy to it. He wanted the blonde to say.

“I don’t know what I’m so afraid of.” Was all Steve said before he pulled Billy back to the ground and into a kiss. 

It was unexpected and contradictory. Billy didn’t know how the brunette could tell him one thing and then do the exact opposite.

The kiss was passionate. Steve brushed the curls of Billy’s mullet as they continued to share saliva. 

Then it hit Hargrove. 

He shouldn’t be doing this. This is exactly how he got hurt the first time. Steve was brushing through his hair the same way he always did. Kissing him the same way he did after they made love. If he let him do this again, it was only imminent before his heart would be broken once more.

Billy broke the kiss and got up swiftly as he wiped his lips.

“We can’t. You know we can’t. I can’t get fucked over again.” Steve only looked at him with upturned brows and apologetic eyes. 

Billy let out a sigh and made his way from behind the counter to the exit of the store.

Steve sat in the same spot, running his hands through his hair again. 

Now that Hargrove was walking out of his life for good, there's nothing more he wanted than for him to be in his arms.

[baynetta]

the miguel young pastor scenario was just so… PERFECT pls make more🙏🙏🙏🙏

omgg thank so much 😭.. i’m definitely continuing the story. first of all miguel as a hot pastor/preacher (just to think about it makes me go feral) but also bcs it goes with my style of writing so i have a lot scenarios that i’m eager to write 🤞🏽

And i’m definitely gonna put some smut in it as well. like imagine miguel and you sitting at the back of the church, brothers and sisters passing by thinking that you guys are listening to whatever the pastors sermon was about.. and miguel purposely putting his foot in between yours so that keeps them apart. the fact you totally know how mad he is just because he’s not even pretending to listen, he has shifted his entire position to look at you, tearing you apart with his frightening stare. the truth is that miguel is totally frustrated, he had told you to not wear panties this sunday but you being dumb (or maybe playing it), you totally forgot. so as petty as he is he will occasionally put his hand below your skirt, his big hand covering your entire thigh, squeezing it and caressing them, his palm rubbing your soft skin, getting closer to your inner thighs, you start to open more for him and then he starts tracing his fingers between your sensitive skin and the edges of your panties, searching for the center of your core, but then suddenly stops. you try to move so that you can get a little release from the terrible need of his palm pressing between your folds. but you only get a hard squeeze from that cruel man. oh now he’s mad. and you know that you’re only making things worst for yourself, and he doesn’t even have to say it this time. you try to distract yourself from his unbearable gaze, picking and peeling the skin of your fingers. you didn’t even notice when the pastor commanded that everybody stand up and raise their hands for the next prayer. you notice that miguel was already standing up, as you follow the preachers demand you feel his body getting closer to you, his big frame now right behind you, almost as you can feel the texture of his suit with your bare exposed skin. suddenly you feel the contact of his lips within the back of your head.

“you just have to listen”

“why can’t you just fucking listen”

[starsomens]

“Where did she go Nick?” Noah was frantic, on the verge of tears and just flipping the room upside down

“Listen even if I wanted to tell you I swore to her I wouldn’t say a word” the drummer raised his hands.

Things between you and Noah were rocky. Time, schedules, petty arguments, even to the point of just ignoring each other and Noah staying over other places. You just couldn’t take more arguments or nights spent alone crying….you left him a note, blocked his number and never looked back.

Noah came home to your things gone, and a cold dark home. He thought you were just trying to get back at him, until the hours grew later into the afternoon. You had blocked him, on everything. Your friends wouldn’t say a word to him, and Nick had apparently known about it. You made him promise you not to crack and tell Noah, and he kept his promise.

He loved both of you. Noah was his close friend and front man, but you had also grown on him like a sister. He saw how unhappy you were becoming, so he kept his promise

“Nick I swear to fucking God, all she leaves is this note and it doesn’t solve shit for me!” Noah begins to become frustrated as he waves the note you left for him in the air.

“What does the note say?” Nick asks, before Noah could argue back “just read it”

“…..on the corner of first and amistad.”

Noah stares at his band mate and friend and it has finally hit him.

“….oh fuck…Fuck!” He grabs his jacket and speeds out of the door.

Where were you? When everything was falling apart…

He races down the street, making every turn possible to get to you as fast as he could. His mind was racing, his hands shook as he zipped through traffic. He had met you on the corner of a train station, and you were listening to The Fray, so it was always a reference you’d make….but this time it was different.

“Come on,come on” his mind races back to the days where he was stubborn, or when you were petty. How stupid those arguments were. How dumb it was to just ignore you, and now he was on the verge of losing everything he loved.

All my days were spent by telephone. That never rang, and all I needed was a call…

He makes it to the train station and park horribly. He’d probably get a ticket but that didn’t matter. What mattered right now was finding you, and stopping you from leaving. He could feel his chest filling with ache, his eye burned, and his head was pounding. He runs through the stations looking for you. Searching for you familiar face in the crowd

Lost and insecure, you found me, you found me, lying on the floor. Surrounded, surrounded, why’d you have to wait?

Once he finds you, he’ll hold you, and apologize and fix every wrong he’d done. He cousins lose you! He refused to let you go. His eyes land on a hat he knew too well. The one he had gives you from his closet to keep you warm. He makes his way through the crowded platform, praying the train wouldn’t arrive before he could reach you.

Well, in the end, everyone ends up alone. But losin her, the only one who’s ever know. Who I am, who I’m not, who I wanna be…

“E-excuse me, sorry. Y/N!” He calls out your name, the sweet beautiful name he adores. Each time he said it he couldn’t help but smile. He regretted every time he’d say it with venom in his tone. Your name deserved to be spoken only with love “Y/N!!”

Now way to know how long she will be next to me…

He finally reached the end of the endless crowd and reaches out to you. His hand lands on your shoulder and you spin around. You pluck the ear buds from your ears and stare at him in shock.

“Y/N…I…I found you…” he said out of breath

“You….did…” was all you responded to him

“Y/N…please don’t do this. Not like this please just come home” he tells you as he looked at your luggage.

I’ve been callin, for years and years and years, and you never left me no messages…

“Noah. I can’t…not anymore” you didn’t look at him. Keeping you eyes down to the ground, or on the recaps waiting on your train “…I…I wasn’t important enough for you to take the time and fix things…so why now?” You asked him still keeping you gaze lowered

“I was stupid Y/N, please believe me I want to fix this I really do. I was….just…..lost and insecure…” he said as he realized exactly where you were

“….so why’d you have to wait?” You finally look at him “….wait until it was broken for you to try and fix it?! I…I loved you Noah…I-i…” it broke his heart to hear you so broken, to hear your voice cracking and breaking, the tears that ran down your blushed cheeks

“And I love you Y/N! I loved you then, now and I will forever please. I love you” you takes a hold of your hands and brings you close to him, resting his forehand against yours, holding your knuckles to his lips “I love you so much….please don’t leave….i found you..”

“You found me…” you reply back “where were you?”

“…just a little late”

“Why’d you have to wait?” You retreat your hands and take a step back from Noah. You take the hat off and hand it to him. You walk toward the edge of the platform as your train pulls in. He watched as you slipped form his fingers, his grip trying to hold on to your hands, before they finally slipped. The doors opened and you take your first step into the train

“Y/N! Please!” He calls out to you gripping the hat in his hand as tears ran down his cheeks. Your heart ached at the sight but you cousins gave him anymore. In fear that both do your tears would bring you both back to where it all started.

“To find me? (To find me..)”

You were gone.

[lucienne-thee-librarian]

Tw: lesbophobia, bullying, petty bitching about the Mean Girls remake and a subset of OG movie fans:

I Know. I KNOW its a me thing. But I saw a post that broke containment about the new Mean Girls movie how OMG REGINA CANONICALLY SINGS ABOUT GETTING GIRLS IN THE END SONG and my first response was "oh god, really?"

Look, I was never wild about the whole "Regina George was secretly closeted and that's why she picked on Janis to distract from her own feelings and save herself" fan theory but at least it was JUST a fan theory. And I know the original movie ending where it turns out Janis isn't even really gay, she was Lebanese and Regina got confused, and see she dances with a boy at the end, it's all okay she wasn't ACTUALLY a dyke!!!! - yeah I rolled my eyes too. Yeah, that was dumb and a coward's move, but idk. At least the movie itself, even if it copped out at the end by not risking having two of the protagonists be ACTUALLY gay in a teen movie...at least it seems aware that homophobic bullying is bad??

The original movie, whatever else you can say about it, or how it handled that issue or any others...at least tried to take that shit seriously. Janis was an outcast years after middle school who flinches at the idea of Damian telling anyone new about what Regina said about her for fear any new friends would abandon her immediately over it. Even Regina herself (blithely, callously, of course, but it's meant to be that) admits that the bullying Janis got as a result of Regina spreading those rumors about her made Janis break down, cut her hair and have to leave school temporarily over the rumors. Regina said that. Herself. With no remorse but she said it. The movie is a comedy, but it doesn't shy away from how brutal bullying of all forms can be. That's kind of the whole point of the goddamn movie.

But idk if the fans of this theory haven't experienced that much bullying themselves or its just a coping mechanism I can't relate to...that theory of "oh Regina's a closet case homophobe poor thing" just completely (to me) softens the whole thing, these fans do it to by making Regina in a sense, another victim. They may not intend it that way, but in the few times I've seen a Mean Girls post and my nostalgia got me scrolling a bit I've stumbled on this. Seen it in various places online and it always made me want to hiss like a wet cat because it's always like "omg poor Regina comphet sucks <333" and. Hork. Im sorry, hork.

Sorry, but I spent too much time BEING on the receiving end of that shit in middle school, getting called names and treated like an actual disease up until I moved to high school with mostly a whole new set of people over the fact someone spread rumors I was a lesbian, to feel anything but frustration over that. Yeah. I was Janis. I'll admit I can't be "objective" here. I never did any of the shit she does in Mean Girls in revenge, I never had the power or inclination, it wasn't a former friend who started it, but yeah I'm biased because that character was me. I know what it was like to be her because I lived it. And yeah, it kind of sucked!!! Did get better, but yeah. Was what it was.

It's a big part of why I've never liked the trope in popular culture that the loudest homophobic bullies are actually closet cases. It's not that "right wing politician caught soliciting blowjobs" has never been a headline but come on. Most of the people who trash queer people do it because they just hate us. Its trivializing of homophobic harassment to act like that's 1) a good explanation for most cases 2) much less an excuse and that's how it can be used. It'd be one thing if a self-hating person's mindset was like. Actually explored with depth and nuance as part of a story. But otherwise, nah. Miss my formerly lowkey traumatized teenage ass with that dismissive cliched shit.

So even the idea that the movie might be lending any kind of weight to that theory about Regina, however subtle or subtextual, that is??? Yeah funny lol, such iconic, very Representation. Fucking bite me. My lesbian ass is tuning right the fuck out. I'm not paying movie ticket prices to see this, if I'm gonna basically get the sort of person who would've made my life hell as a preteen and tween get turned into One Of Us with the expectation that's going to make me freak out with joy. Even if allegedly they did actually make Janis a lesbian (which, good for them if they did).

Of course, it could just be fans blowing something out of proportion but. Like y'all are not making me want to see this movie MORE and I was at best lukewarm on it having never seen the musical and being lowkey burnt out on the idea of yet another remake.

[angelicyouth]

Youth ; Chapter 3

⇢ pairing: kenny mccormick x marsh!reader x craig tucker

⇢ synopsis: ❝Growing up with the boys as the sole girl of the group, it was only natural for them to grow protective over their pseudo-little sister as the years went by.❞

⇢ warning: descriptions of a panic attack

⇢ [AO3 link] ; [series masterlist] ; [previous] ; [next]

A cacophony of voices fight to be heard over the other, everyone shit talking around the game of Mario Kart that’s currently set up in our living room. The boys and I watch as the four players duke it out on the big screen, witnesses to a friendship-breaking competition.

Loud stomping abruptly interrupts the taunts, “Y/N! What the hell? Is that my fucking shirt that you’re wearing?” My brother violently hollers from his spot, standing halfway down the stairs to peer down at the rest of us.

“The one you’ve been looking for all morning? Yup.” I lazily drawl from my spot on the couch, obnoxiously popping the “p” in my reply. My head slightly shifts as Tweek attempts to neatly braid my hair, Butters gently coaching him from the side.

“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that? Made me waste a bunch of time looking for nothing.” Stan continues as he finishes his journey down the stairs.

“You act like you have better things to do, loser. No girlfriend, no job—nada. So I don’t see what the big deal is. Are you on your period or something?” An accidental sharp tug makes me wince, Tweek muttering apologies as he quickly kisses the top of my head in repentance for his mistake.

“Shut up! Quit stealing my shit!” He's standing off to the side of the couch now, eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed.

I glare at Stan and say around a mouthful of orange chicken at the top of my lungs. “Quit stealing my weed then!”

”God, you’re such a fucking pothead!” He shouts, fists clenching in anger.

”Says the alcoholic who starts his day with a shot!” It’s a low blow but all I can see is red.

“Bro, quit being a whiny bitch. You’re not dirt poor like Kinny. Just buy a new one.” Said blonde flashes Cartman his middle finger so he rolls his eyes and attempts to correct himself. “What? Fine, at least you weren’t born ginger and a Jew like Kahl. Talk about a double whammy, I’d honestly kill myself.”

”You don’t need a reason to kill yourself, Cartman. Make all of us happy for once and just do it. If you really need a reason, just think about how fat you are and how much wasted space you take up.”

”Aye!”

The match concludes with Jimmy coming out on top and the boys deciding to abandon the game entirely. They resume eating the Chinese takeout that’s laid out on the coffee table in front of them and half-heartedly listen to the sibling’s routine bickering.

“Take it off.” He scoffs at me, face heated with anger. Tolkien rolls his eyes so hard that I’m surprised a headache doesn’t occur.

“Huh?”

“C’mon, Y/N. You’re stupid, not deaf. Want me to ask mom to get you hearing aids? I said: take. It. Off.” Comes out of my brother’s gritted teeth, each word growing more impatient and strained.

“Big deal, Stan! There’s so many other fucking shirts in this house. Feel free to get one from my closet if you need one so bad.” I retort in exasperation, clenching the denim on Tweeks legs that lay on either side of my body in frustration.

“Ack!” The frenzied blond yelps from behind me and I let go, fiddling with the creases on his jeans instead.

“No! Didn’t you hear me, r-tard? It’s mine, I bought it. Now, take it off!” Kyle closes his eyes at the elder Marsh’s words, tired beyond his years.

“Able to throw some money away for a dumb shirt but you can’t even pay me back my hundred dollars.” The local space enthusiast mumbles to himself, a chorus of ‘shut up, Craig!’ resounds from the boys in Team Stan.

“Fine!” I smirk and get off from my perch on the couch, a sly yet very bold idea pops up into my head. The perfect little thing to piss my dear older brother off. If you want petty, I’ll give you petty.

I grab my shirt from the hem and start to slowly lift it off of my frame, quirking a smug eyebrow and taunting my brother with a smile when more skin starts to show.

“Woohoo!” Kenny hollers excitedly at me, his hands in the air.

“F-f-fuck! No! Quit it, will you?! Don’t fucking do that!” Stan pushes those in his way aside and the boys make it hard for him on purpose by sticking out their legs to trip him. My brother scrambles over to me, forcing my hands down.

“Aw. What’s wrong, Stanley? You’re starting to sound a lot like Jimmy, how cute. I thought you wanted your stupid shirt?” I jeer at him. It’s like what Bebe always says: boys never know what they want and that’s the problem with them. Amen, sister.

“Ewww, Marsh. No one wants to see your underdeveloped body.” Craig socks Cartman on the arm, hard and the larger teen squeals like a dying pig.

“Don’t listen to them, sexy! Keep on going!” Clyde joins in laughing, sliding off his jacket and twirling it over his head in support of the apparent stripping going on.

“You’re voluptuous! Curvaceous! I’m already down on my knees at the sight of you, sweet thang!” Clyde continues to exaggeratedly hype me up, comically imitating the sound of a barking dog afterwards.

“I don’t know how you guys can take her seriously when her hair’s only halfway done. Looks like a damn hippie.” Cartman mumbles, more focused on inhaling his food and rubbing his now sore arm.

“Pffft, b-buh-baby Marsh gone w-wild!” Kung pao chicken accompanies Jimmy’s words of encouragement and he grabs one of his arm crutches, twirling it above his head too. My hands are still at the hem of my shirt, lifted up slightly and exposing a sliver of skin, even when my brother lets go.

I turn my head and catch Craig’s eyes trailing down as he smirks at me, his eyebrows lifted up playfully. A glint in his deep blues as he nonchalantly says, “I wouldn’t mind.”

While I’d normally giggle in amusement at the normally stoic teen and the contribution towards further riling my brother up, my face immediately flushes red after my talk with the girls at the party. I’d say that butterflies are invading my stomach, struggling to break free but it honestly feels like a whole damn zoo down there.

Feeling the adrenaline rush from my brother’s anger, the boys egging me on, and Craig’s attention, my heart beats at record breaking speed and I can feel my cheeks shyly heat up. This development doesn’t go by unnoticed as Kenny stops his playful cheering and laughing, watching the interaction between us two with furrowed brows.

“Fuck off, Tucker. Actually, fuck both of you all the way to hell.” My brother grumbles, angrily throwing himself onto an unoccupied space on the couch with his arms crossed. “It’s the fucking principle of things.”

“Big word, Stanley. Is that your word of the day? Did you learn it from this week’s episode of Sesame Street?” I mock him with a pout in fake sympathy.

“Shut the fuck up before I kick your fucking teeth in!” My brother’s stupid face goes red with anger.

He pouts when Kyle holds him back and rolls his eyes, ever the voice of reason. “They were just joking, Stan.”

“Yeah, Stanley. I was just joking.” My eyes continue to follow Craig as he lifts a bite of food towards his handsome face, wooden chopsticks pressed against his still smirking plush lips.

“Craig.” My brother says sharply this time, straightening up his back to glare at the teen over Cartman’s bigass head. I’m slightly confused as to what’s happening but still loving the attention Craig is giving me.

“Relax, Marsh.” Craig chuckles with a challenging look in his eyes. Tension begins to grow in the room and I’m lost because the other guys would normally laugh at suave shit like that and instigate a fight.

I roll my eyes and figure that it’s just them being overly protective, going back to my spot in between the cute coffee addict’s legs so that he can finish his attempt at doing my hair. Butters has a small braid done in between tufts of silky blonde from when I demonstrated the process to Tweek. He rubs his knuckles together, nervous energy exuding from his body as I return next to him.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

The girls excitedly informed me of tryouts and the process, which involves practice with the already established team and the new potential recruits. A week and a half is given to learn a few cheers before the day they hold the official tryouts, which was today. It’s here where I finally meet Nichole Daniels, Tolkien’s girlfriend. It would’ve been nice if he brought her over from time to time but I can understand his vehement refusal of bringing her anywhere near a number of dumb boys. Trouble seems to follow the guys wherever they go.

As promised to the parentals, I attended and it’s not as bad as I thought it would be with the friends I’ve already made being here. I’ve never had problems with dancing as it comes easy to me so it’s nice to just hang out and bask in the feminine energy.

My parent’s request has continued to go under the radar as the boys have been busy with the football season starting. Their practice allows me to not have to think of an excuse for staying out late since they’re already busy, extracurricular activities taking up their time after school as they prepare for the season.

I shove the heavy front doors of the school open, the sun almost fully set as a gradient of red, yellow, and orange bathe me in their hues. The girls always remember to offer me a ride home from their parents but I always politely reject, my guilt not allowing any of them to go out of their way and use their gas on me.

My hands are shoved into my pockets, trying to accumulate as much heat as possible while I begin the journey home. Wisps of fleeting, misty clouds escape from my mouth after each puff of breath I let out and I watch them disappear. I bask in the rare moment of solitude and the quiet that comes with it.

I’m colder than I normally would be tonight because a freshman accidentally spilled her gatorade onto the duffel bag that I’ve been using for cheer. Not only were the sweats that I usually throw on over my shorts drenched in sticky sweetness, but the clothes I wore to school earlier were also an unlucky casualty to the liquid electrolytes.

I wonder if I’ll make the cheer team, I ponder to myself.

The rhythmic sound of my steps on the concrete sidewalk accompany me on my walk and I hum to myself until I hear sharp, rambunctious laughter. I’m startled as my head shoots up and see that across from me in the distance are a group of boisterous, older teens. Fear resounds within me when I faintly remember them terrorizing my brother and friends when they were in the fourth grade, them having been in the sixth at the time.

I pray in my head that they don’t notice me but my prayers go unanswered as they cross the street, now joining me on the same sidewalk. I know I can’t outrun them so I panic and impulsively decide to take a detour, turning right into an alleyway until I dreadfully notice that I can still hear them from behind. What was once just the sound of obnoxious laughter is now the noise of thundering footsteps following closely, beginning to get louder and louder.

My feet hastily pick up their pace and I can feel the tremors reverberate through my now sweating hands, anxiety filling me to the very core. My trembling makes the process of pulling out my phone agonizingly slow and I silently curse at my misfortune.

The white puffs of air that once brought me entertainment on my walk now serve as a reminder of the danger I’m in. Unlike before, they come out of my mouth in quick intervals and I clench my teeth to bid them away.

Out of nowhere, someone roughly yanks on my ponytail and they’re quick to cut off my yelp as a rough hand forces itself onto my mouth. The assailant painfully holds onto my other arm, both grips enforcing excruciating pain.

“Hey, I recognize you. You go to our school, always around those dumb boys.” One of the perpetrators in front of me sneers as he brings his face up to mine, his rancid breath invading my senses and making me feel even sicker than before.  

“Lucky, aren’t we? We got baby Marsh!” Their eyes lighten up in both delight and recognition. I can feel upcoming bile trying to force its way up my throat from hearing the term of endearment the boys call me used like this, the connotation eerie in this situation.

Trying to make a sound is futile as all my cries for help are muffled, my captor getting annoyed at my squirming and relocating his hold on my arm to my neck instead. He squeezes and I whimper in fear, my breathing becomes more desperate when my kicking and elbows do nothing to deter him.

“Why’re you crying? You’re just asking for it when you walk around in fucking shorts. We live in South Park. No one would dress that way outside in the snow if they weren’t a total slut.” They all degradingly mock me, laughter resounding throughout the cold air as foreign fingers begin to play along the edge of my shorts.

“Pffft, dumb bitch.” One of them slaps me just because they have the power to do so in my vulnerable state before squeezing both of my cheeks together with one hand, hard.

“Who wants to go first?” They all fight over the answer to the question and I clench my eyes shut in dread, the color draining from my face.

Before they can do anything, yelling can be heard and I’m dropped by my captor. I stumble to the dirty ground of the alleyway at the loss of my previous support. On the floor, I painfully dig my nails onto my thighs. My breath hitches and my chest tightens, my panicking intensifying despite finally being free.

Short breaths rake through my trembling body and my nails dig deeper. Crescent moons appear on soft skin, invoking blood. My head starts to feel a little light and I try my hardest to calm myself down but it’s to no avail, my attempts prove to be futile. My unoccupied hand trembles as they reach up to touch wet, stinging cheeks. I didn’t even notice that I‘ve begun to sob as every gasp for air racks my body.

“Holy shit.” Varying voices can be heard from around me but my mind barely registers their words as my head continues to feel even lighter than before.

Even though I’m unable to determine whether or not I’m safe, I don’t flinch when someone crouches next to me and hastily crushes me against their hard chest. I’m numb to my surroundings and everything feels distorted. It’s as if I’m underwater, drowning.

“Ack! She’s hyperventilating! Gyah!”

“No fucking shit captain obvious!”

“Shut the fuck up!” The chest I’m against rumbles and my brain finally registers it as the sound of Kenny’s voice. I muster up what little strength I have to look up and see my boys around me. My brother is directly crouched in front of me and from my peripherals, I can just barely see that it’s Kyle in the same position next to him, eyes wide in panic.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

“Fuck! What should we do?!” It’s Tolkien this time but I can’t look away from my brother. My eyes are begging him to do something, anything to make it stop. Oh how I wish twin telepathy were real.

“Breathe, baby. You need to breathe for me.” The world tilts around me as a soothing voice near my ear urges. A resounding gasp of air struggles to be inhaled but it’s too shaky and tears of frustration continue to fall. My breathing isn’t slowing and I just want this to be over.

“Someone needs to do something before her heart gives out!” Someone loudly kicks what sounds to be a trash can in anger, messily spilling its contents all over the floor and I flinch at the blow.

“Y/N, breathe.” Stan coaches me, taking my hand and placing it on his chest. His large hand encompasses my smaller one, exerting slight pressure until I can feel his heartbeat.

“Just focus on the sound of my voice and follow me. In, and out. In, and out. I’m here. You see me, right? You’re here with me at this very moment and you’re safe. You’re always safe with me. Big brothers always got you, yeah?”

I can’t do it anymore, I just can’t.

I’ve been trying and nothing is happening.

It won’t stop and I can’t fucking breathe.

I don’t want to disappoint everyone but I’m tired.

“Shh, shh. You can, love, you can. I know you can.” Kenny patiently encourages me as he gently brushes strands of my hair away from my sticky, tear-stained cheeks. Heavily disoriented, I didn’t seem to realize that I was verbalizing all of my thoughts.

“You know why? Because my girl is the absolute best—the best girl ever and everyone who's anybody knows that. She’s resilient and just so, so strong. As long as she tries her best, I’ll always be proud of her no matter what and nothing she can do will ever disappoint me. Literally, nothing. She could put a bullet through my head and I’d just pass away in euphoria because my last living memory is of a goddess with ethereal beauty.” Kenny continues and ever so slightly, a corner of my lip lifts up.

This is familiar. This is comforting. I know this. The playful flirting and cheesy, over the top exaggeration. His soothing voice helps guide me back down to Earth as I focus on the rising chest of my brother under my fingertips. This is familiar, too. It’s a sound I’ve always known, even before I was born. Whenever I’m feeling sad or scared, my big brother will always hug me to his chest, my ear pressed against the faint beating of his heart. The rhythmic sound let’s me know that I’m safe, I always am when he’s here. This sound is the other half of me.

“Good girl, you’re doing great. Really great. You always do great and I knew you would.” It’s the voice near my ear again and this time, I’m finally able to look away from my brother to see that the voice belongs to Craig. It appears he had a hand on my shoulder throughout the whole ordeal, his thumb rubbing comforting circles over my jacket.

I now notice that Butters has my other hand firmly in his, tears streaking down both his and Clyde’s faces. They all must have found me after practice and I’m thankful that I wasn’t too far from the school before everything went down.

When they ask me what I was doing out so late, in athletic shorts no less, I mumble an excuse about the girls inviting me to workout in the weight room back at school. They don’t know that it’s not just today that I’ve been trekking home alone at night and I don't want to correct their assumption when they sternly lecture me on how dangerous it is.

After taking me home and getting myself cleaned up, they decide on an impromptu movie night filled with blankets, pillows, and snacks. Last minute texts are sent to their parents, notifying them of an emergency sleepover. They place me in the middle, a cocoon of softness, warmth, and comfort. They let me choose all the movies for the rest of the night and the food we order for delivery.

Our faces are colored a pale green from the clay mask I put on everyone, those with longer hair having mini palm trees at the top of their head from being tied up away from their faces.

Self care, they told me.

This isn’t edible so don’t try to lick it off your face, I told Cartman.

I slowly look around and take in the bright light of the television reflecting off of their individual faces. Some people, like Tolkien and Kyle, are starting to nod off, fighting the last dredges of sleep for my sake. On the other end of the spectrum, Butters and Clyde jump at every loud sound that accompanies the suspenseful music, paranoia painting their faces white. Tweek catches my eye and gently feeds me a kernel of popcorn.

Surrounded by my boys, I smile knowing I’m safe whenever I’m with them.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

I’m sitting in front of my vanity, carefully applying some makeup to cover the faint bruising on my cheek, the process therapeutic. The occasional clicking of buttons could be heard, Craig lounging on my bed with a handheld gaming console in his hands. I softly mouth along to the words of the low music playing from my phone while faint laughter can be heard from downstairs.

I chance a glance up and catch Craig’s reflection from the corner of my eyes, but I don’t turn my head around as we make eye contact through the mirror. My lips unconsciously quirk up, fondness of the boy behind me fills my entire being from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. “Hmm? What’s up, Tucker?”

He doesn’t say anything, only a thoughtful look adorning his attractive features. Ever since the night the boys found me, I’ve been catching their lingering gazes on me from time to time. Eyes distant, as if they’re looking past me.

I settle both of my elbows onto the tabletop, my hands carefully framing both of my cheeks lest I smudge my hard work. My smile doesn’t falter, never when I’m with him, and I lightheartedly tease him, “What? Never seen a good looking Marsh before? I know you’re around my brother all the time but he's not that ugly.”

I’m successful in getting a reaction from him because I’m soon rewarded with a twinkle of mirth in his eyes, his expression softening, “Come here.”

His deep voice is firm, filling my room with its gentle demand and I blindly obey. With Craig, I’d do just about anything for him. He’s now seated upright and has positioned himself at the edge of my bed, legs open and his thumb tapping a beat onto his thigh.

When I’m close enough, the boy grabs both of my hands, interlocking our fingers together. He gives the intertwined digits a swift, reassuring squeeze before guiding me to him to close the short distance between us. I stand in between his legs and he elicits sudden goosebumps along my arms as he carefully drags his long fingers down the length of it, slowly before finding purchase at my hips.

I instinctively loop my arms around his neck, bringing us closer together and he gently squeezes in response. He murmurs so quietly, “Are you okay?”

I softly reply, my thumbs rubbing soothing circles onto the back of his neck, catching strands of smooth black hair. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

Our voices are hushed. There’s no need to be quiet but it feels like we’re in a bubble and at any disruption, no matter how slight, might pop it.

“Yeah… You know I’m always here for you, right?” I softly nod in response, a slight shift in this space of intimacy we’ve created.

“You know you have me, right?” Again, I nod as I hang onto his words.

“Because I’d do anything for you, Y/N. It doesn’t matter what it is—big or small. At the asscrack of dawn or in the middle of the night. I'd drop whatever I was doing if it meant getting to you when you need me.” His long fingers reach up to lightly smooth his thumb at the area where soft skin meets makeup.

“If you ever have any doubts or feel upset about anything, just talk to me, okay? And I promise that I’ll do whatever I can to erase those doubts and remind you of how much you mean to me. I don’t ever want you to feel alone or less of anything, not when you mean everything to me.” The ravenette continues as he moves his hand, this time tucking silky strands of hair away from my face and behind my ear.

I shyly giggle in bliss at his soft touch and even lighter voice. “Where is this coming from, Craig?”

He ignores my question, persistent to convey his message to me. “You do know that, right, Y/N?”

“Of course, I’ve never doubted it or thought otherwise.”

“Good.” The teen says, satiated before bringing us down onto the bed.

My hands lay themselves against his chest to keep myself upright and he caresses my head with both hands, angling my head down to give my forehead a soft kiss. His lips lingers before pulling away.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

It wasn’t hard for the girls to see the slight traces of lingering purple under my attempted camouflage. I tried to reassure them that it wasn’t anyone’s fault but mine, yet they persisted in trying to make up for it due to the guilt they all felt.

I had just finished applying my daily cover up and was adding the final touches to my hair, making sure that every single strand was in place. Satisfied, I turn the brightness of my computer screen back up until the reflection of myself on the glass disappears. I had time before I was due to head out so I loosely curled every lock cascading down my shoulders, braids adorning either side of my head. The girls wanted to take me out later in the day as an otherwise unnecessary apology and I hummed to myself in excitement.

“Wow, doll. Is this all for me?” I look up from the boss battle I was currently engaged in, pausing to identify the intruder that let out a low whistle.

Kenny leans off from his laidback position on my door frame and lazily walks up behind me, the end of his lips quirked up. He gives me an appreciative hum as he takes his time scanning my appearance, indulging his eyes on my figure. I patiently smile at his appreciation.

“Ah, scratch that. That was a stupid question, you’re beautiful every single day to anyone who lays their eyes on you. You don’t even need to try so I meant to say that this is a welcomed treat.” I turn around in my seat to face him, giggling at his words of praise. I greedily drink them in as I loop my arms around his waist.

“Beautiful?” I seek more of his validation, a deepening blush rising on my cheeks as I parrot back his compliment.

He takes a small section of my hair and gently guides his hand to his face, kissing the soft locks in his possession. He hums to me, “Beautiful, bewitching, alluring… You’re every synonym and every iteration of the word, babe. You define beautiful, you’re the very embodiment of it. That word was created because of you—if I were to look under the definition of it, your name would be there.”

My smile grows wider and my cheeks start to hurt from the action, resulted by the constant influx of euphoria that the blonde never fails to provide me. Whether from being drunk on the male’s compliments or shyness, the color red has made its permanent residence onto my cheeks.

He lets go of my hair and gently cups his large hands on either side of my face, angling it up towards his taller figure.

“Pretty.” He quietly utters to my skin, kissing my forehead.

“Gorgeous.” A kiss to my nose this time.

“Irresistible.” A kiss to my left cheek.

“Ravishing.” A firmer kiss to my right cheek with a playful growl, melodic laughter gets pulled out of me.

“Lovely.” He says much softer this time, watching me with gentle eyes. He keeps his devoted gaze onto my visage, his thumb lightly goes over my lips once. “Everything a guy could ever ask for in a person. Everything that I could ever want in life. If I could have one wish, it’d be you.”

My eyes flicker between bright azure orbs, the air between us charged. Before I can say anything, the sound of muffled yelling from my brother’s room startles us. I hastily look away embarrassed, the moment between us broken.

“Can I make you pretty, too?” I flash him a toothy grin and he playfully rolls his eyes, seeking refuge onto my bed. That’s all the answer I need before I push at his shoulders to guide his back down before I settle myself onto his lower stomach, giggling with an eyeshadow palette in one hand and a makeup brush in the other.

Washing flecks of glittery white over his eyelids, I bring my face closer to his and take the time to study the teen under me while his eyes are closed. His slender hands find purchase at my hips and I find myself mesmerized at the mini constellations that adorn his handsome face. Albeit not many, every freckle looks like a tiny star, accentuating the blonde’s mesmerizing features.

I lean in closer to get a better look as I carefully paint a streak of black, a steady hand making a line. I inspect my latest stroke when his hand gently grabs the wrist of the hand I have hovering over his face, the same one holding my eyeliner brush. His eyes slowly open as to not disturb my art, our faces close to one another. Kenny showcases his boyish smile, flashing me with deep dimples at the lack of space between us and my eyes inadvertently lower, seeking plush lips.

“Haven’t you noticed that yeah, the boys are overprotective over you. But when it comes to Kenny and Craig, it’s different?”

Fuck.