#noone's gonna see this bc I'm posting it in the middle of the night but I Must talk about Simon and his dork ass vibes

[bucketsofmonsters]

Is shark hottie a mega hunk to sharkmaids or is he more average looking? The confidence with which he approaches puts me in the mind of him being someone who has not been rejected before. Is Simon ? Is he a hottie to sirens? Are they both hotties but also not getting bitches because of personality defects or what

Shark hottie, as u have affectionately named him lol, is so incredibly average. Honestly, I think the confidence is largely bc he undeniably has the upper hand. Like he met a struggling human in the water and after they calmed down, they were pretty openly friendly. In terms of courtship, typically they are pretty unemotional, there aren't a lot of strong familial feelings towards a 'partner' nor pups so there isn't as much at stake in his mind. Like to him being rejected isn't such an emotional affair. He definitely has an affection for reader but that isn't typical nor is it assumed within a courting pair, ya know? A rejection like that would rarely, if ever, meaning ending the affection or friendship between a pair, they'd typically continue on as normal so for him there isn't quite as much at stake, the only nerves would come from them being a human

Simon, on the other hand, gets no bitches bc he is weird!! It takes a weird siren to save a random human and he is indeed a very weird siren. The others tend to think of him as strange and a little volatile, he doesn't stay in one place as much as he should and he has always had a bad habit of sticking himself as close to dangerous situations as he can while still being able to get away. I think part of the reason he reacted to the reader so strongly is he's pretty desperate for affection and part of the reason he's so clingy rn is he's terrified of it being taken away from him

[the-algebra-thing]

I have been keeping my schedule at least a little bit normal for the past few months like waking up before 11 and going to bed before 3. just because I know it's gonna have to be normal eventually and I thought maybe if I get better at this middle ground I can ease myself into it. long as fuck post about how it works when I sleep ahead because I'm pissed off about it fair warning.

now fun fact it takes me at least half an hour to wake up. I cannot even drag myself out of bed till I've snoozed my alarm for at least 10 minutes and then once I've woken up to that laid in bed psyching myself up for 10-20 minutes. I need at least 8 hours and it takes so much to drag my ass out of sleep. waking up feeling "well rested* might as well be a myth; I don't really wake up without being overwhelmed with how my body wants to go back to sleep. the earlier I wake up the worse it is—on days when I have to wake up at 8 to babysit I have to TEAR myself out of bed, and my stomach hurts like a motherfucker once I do get up, almost invariably.

on the flip side I can fall asleep easy at any time, but it takes longer before 2, and even longer before midnight, and also if I go to sleep before midnight I will wake up in at most 4 hours and then again and again and again during the night and struggle to get back to sleep. sometimes when I go to sleep at 9pm to wake up for my job in the morning, I get those 4 hours, and then wake up for good at 1am with absolutely no chance of getting back to sleep no matter how hard I try.

last night I went to bed at 4am bc I decided last minute instead of going to bed to get flynn to cut my hair (it is finally buzzed now I'm so happy LOLLL) and then take a shower first. did all that, fell asleep easy as hell since it was after 2. I set an alarm for noon this morning so I didn't have to worry about checking the time to see if I had under- or overslept when I woke up in the morning to roll over. when I did, the alarm hadn't gone off— turned out it was 15 minutes before it was supposed to, and I laid there for like 5 of those minutes before I even checked trying to go back to sleep, but my body literally didn't need to. i just woke right up. if id had a reason to I could've rolled out of my bed 5-10 minutes before my alarm feeling rested and awake as fuck, a feeling that doesn't really happen to me for hours when I wake up at 8. my mom had even called my phone, right next to my pillow, two hours earlier, and I don't remember it waking me up at ALL bro I was OUT.

in conclusion I had no idea the magnitude of the difference when I do it the way my body wants me to and also Why do my biorhythms hate me thus

[keravnous]

when you see my face, hope it gives you hell; rodrick heffley x you (smut, minors dni)

if u saw me post this earlier today no u didn't

read pt. II here | read pt. III here | read pt. IV here

word count: 6,9k

Rodrick and you have a history of hating and constantly picking fights with each other. With him being the total opposite of your collected, well-dressed and hard-working self the two of you usually end up at each others throats. That is, until your friend decides to drag you to one of his infamous parties.

all characters are 18+, she/her pronouns, (sorta?) enemies to lovers, explicit, consent is sexy kids, vaginal, oral (female receiving bc rod's a feminist icon), undernegotiated kinks: name calling, rodrick's a little rough, light spanking, he's hitting it raw (use condoms kids, please)

this one's for you, v.

pov: you're at rodrick's party - the PLAYLIST

"I'm not going!", you're throwing your locker door shut, a few middle schoolers jumping at the loud noise, a few heads turning your way.

Your best friend is leaning against her locker, rolling her eyes. "Dude, you're acting up, really. It's just a party."

"That I won't attend", your phone buzzes in your bag and you dig your hand deep into it, thankful for the interruption of the discussion that'd been going on all noon, fumbling for it between discarded notes, books and pens.

"It'd be soo boring, all on my own. He won't even notice you're there, there are no invitations-"

"If his parties are soo boring, why drag me there then?", you raise your eyebrows in annoyed manner, feeling your phone buzzing away underneath your planner.

"Because you could use to loosen up a little!", she blurts out and looks at you. You raise your head, eyes meeting her's. She looks shocked.

"Sorry, I- I didn't mean anything by it. You're just studying so much and, and, an-"

"And?"

"And you just gotta come! It's gonna be the party of the decade, we'll remember it when we're old and grey and living in a retirement centre. And I won't spend my time there remembering a high school party all by myself, just because my best friend didn't care to fucking attend." For a split second you think about it. Oh, glorified high school memories, you could really use more of them. While others were going out on the weekends you mostly stayed at home, just occasionally joining in. You were afraid of failing classes and it really started to affect your social life.

Your phone rips you out of your thoughts, pulls you back to earth and into the reeking halls of Crossland High.

"I really don't care", you mumble absent-mindly, more to convince yourself than her, really. No matter if you actually wanted to go, he wouldn't want you there and you had better things to do than fighting with Rodrick fucking Heffley on a saturday night, after already having endured him all week. Finally seeing a blueish light at the bottom of your bag you close your hand around your phone.

"Practically the whole year's invited, so-" You see the caller's id: it's your younger brother.

"Yeah, what is it?", you ask as you answer the call. You're supposed to pick him up from soccer practice later, right after your last class. The bell riiings and you follow your friend through the busy halls to your class room while she chats away.

"Y/N? Soccer practice's cancelled", you can hear birds chirping on the other side.

"And what", you're squeezing yourself through the stream of students, trying to keep up with your friend, "Am I supposed to do about it?" The laughter and occasional screaming of younger student's surrounding you is too loud and muffles the noise coming out of your phone's speaker.

"Can - pick - me - house?"

"Text me the address!", you yell into your phone and manage to hang up before nearly dropping it after a little boy knocks your arm away, trying his hardest not to drown in a wave of hollering students.

_

Your pale 70s Fleetwood Cadi comes to a halt in front of a tidy and average looking suburban home. Your first impression is being supported by the equally average and family-friendly looking SUV that is parked infront of the garage.

12 Surrey Street.

You sigh. It's been a long day and homework's piling up. No one told you how horrible the last year of high school would be, how much effort you'd need to put into studying and just how much emotional stress college applications would add to the mix.

You turn the engine off and swing yourself out of your grandpa's old car, hurrying across the street and the sidewalk. There are some kids playing with chalk a few houses down the street and their laughter fills your ears. You're tired and you want to rest, fatigue enhancend by the warm evening sun shining down on your tired limbs. Its orange hue makes the autumn leaves and colourful houses glow. It's pretty but you don't wanna stay for too long, hoping that your brother is ready to go.

Without paying much attention, your finger finds the doorbell and you only notice the name above it after you rang. Heffley.

No no no.

You take a step back to check the address again, eyes aimlessly roaming the street.

No no no.

There are audible steps behind the door and you pray it's not him. Maybe, hopefully, there's another Heffley family living in Plainview.

No no no please God, no.

The door opens.

It's not him.

"Oh, hello. You must be Y/N", a friendly looking woman, glasses deep on her nose, opens the door and you release an audible breath. She smiles wider, a little more confused this time.

"Yes, pleasure to meet you", you smile back and reach out to shake hands and she looks content again, "I am here to pick up my brother."

"Oh, it's so nice to finally meet you!" - Wait, what? - " I am Susan." She shakes your hand again and her forceful friendliness nearly makes you wanna puke.

You hear even more footsteps, faster this time and two boys scoot around the corner of the hallway. It's your brother and what you assume is his new friend.

"Gregory, no running in the house!", Mrs Heffley says with the most authority she seems to muster and the one who's not your brother stops dead in his tracks, "I am afraid it's time the two of you say goodbye for now."

You sigh. Your brother looks far from ready, he's not even wearing his shoes. He looks at you and makes a disappointed face. You just shrug and surpress a yawn.

"Hurry up, buddy", you hear yourself say in a mechanically friendly voice, the tone directed more at Susan than your little brother, "Pack up, Mom's waiting."

He nods and runs up the stairs, Greg following behind him.

"Boys", Susan turns around and smiles a warm and proud Mom-smile, like she has all the patience in the world. You nod and smile. There's nothing more you can do anyways. You don't know shit about kids.

But your parents raised you well and you know a thing or two about being charming and participating in smalltalk. You think it may be time to put that to good use.

"Is Gregory your only child?", you ask, a little voice in the back of your head pushing you. You gotta know, anxiety still thickly thrumming in the back of your head, making you a little dizzy.

"Oh no, no. He has a little brother, Manny, but he is at my mother's place today", she smiles even wider. The younger one is probably her favourite son, even though parents always are quick to claim that favoritism doesn't exist. "And then there's-"

Her eyes scoot away from you, down the street and you hear the squeaking wheels of the white van before you even fully turned around to see it. Your skin turns ice cold and then hot.

Oh no.

"My eldest son, Rodrick. Aren't you in the same year?"

You don't answer. Can't answer, as his van comes to a halt, only seconds away from crashing into your inherited car. You're fuming at his carelessness, but with Susan practically sitting in your neck there's not much you can do.

He throws the door shut and takes a few steps on the gravel towards the house, looking at his phone before he looks up. Your gazes lock.

"What are you doing here?", he spits, surprise dwelling thickly in his voice.

Shut up, Heffley, you don't gotta know. "Picking up my brother", you answer, clenching you teeth.

"Didn't know he was still stuck in Kindergarten", he comes closer.

"Rodrick! Please-", Susan puts on her most scolding tone, but neither of you could care less.

"Why? Missed him there today?", you spit back and he comes to a halt a few steps away. His eyebrows raise a little and there's something sparkling in his eyes but it's gone as quick as it appeared.

You can see, by the way the corner of his lips tilt up, that he's -

"I'm ready, Y/N", you hear a voice behind Susan and Rodrick swallows his comeback. Odd.

You glare at him for another second, only for good measure, not because you're a little too caught up by his stare boring into your eyes.

"Alright buddy, let's go", you say and Susan lets him pass and then there's noise inside the house and she retreats, but not without shooting Rodrick a warning look.

You take your brother's bag and take a few steps down the gravel path before turning back around, only to find Rodrick still looking at you.

"And Heffley?", you hear yourself say, voice raised confidently. You know it's childish, but you just gotta.

He cocks an eyebrow. Motherfucker.

"Go, wash yourself!"

_

It wasn't your greatest roast, you have to admit that. Your hand clenches around the steering wheel in an attempt to not smack you across the face. Deep Purple sings away on your car's radio, while your brother, arms crossed, looks out of the window.

You don't really remember how it all started, the bickering, the insults, the constant fighting to the degree that not only the students, but also the teachers noticed. The only thing you remember is what was, at least for you, the last straw.

Your brother huffs and you look over. You only now realize that he's pouting and you're quick on knowing who to put the blame for your inattention on. Damn you, Heffley.

"Are you okay?", you ask, sounding ruder than anticipated.

"That was so cringe."

You blink, eyes back on the road. One second passes, and another.

"What?", you blurt out.

"You and Greg's brother", he looks at you like you're a little slow, "Cringe." He even spells it.

You stutter a bit out of confusion, before catching up. "Don't say that", you blurt out, sounding a little offended.

"Say what?"

"Cringe", your upper lip curls, "This is not tiktok, weeb."

You look at each other and then laughter fills the air.

"I'm sorry, really. Didn't mean to make a fool out of you", you shrug and he does, too.

You pull up at the red light.

"You didn't make a fool out of me", he says and sounds like a child again, eventhough he's been fourteen since march, "Just out of yourself."

You turn your head to look at him, shake your head in disbelieve. He nods.

"Hey, buddy. I know that wasn't my greatest -"

Now it's his turn to shake his head and there's something ghosting over his expression. Amusement.

"Greg told me that you're all he talks about - his brother, that is. At diner, at breakfast. What you're doing, what you wore, what you said to him."

Your jaw drops.

"What?", you blurt out.

"Yeah, he probably just complains about it, tho", your brother shrugs, watching the light turning from red to yellow and back to green. There's static noise filling your ears and you feel your heartbeat picking up.

That caught you off guard, but the way your body reacts is even more concerning to you. Your fingertips tingle, your blood pumps through your veins. Suddendly, it's a little too warm in the car, with the windows rolled down and the cool autumn breeze rolling in.

Someone behind you honks and it catapults you back to earth, back into the small town's busy traffic and your body jerks. You press down on the gas, speeding the remaining way home.

_

On June 6th 1944 the allied invasion-

Your fingers hover over the keyboard, the white of your laptop's screen drilling into your retinas. You really need to finish the assignment, but you can't focus no matter how hard you try. Something's clouding up your mind, keeping your thoughts away from Operation Neptune. It's been like that for days, since you picked your brother up on monday.

You're all he talks about.

Out of spite? Or because he -

You open a new tab and type quicker than your brain can decide against it. It's stupid, but you can't come up with a better solution. Talking to someone about this is totally off limits. Eventually you find what you're looking for.

10 Signs a guy may be into you!

You click on the link and your phone buzzes on you table. You don't even give it a look, just pick up the incoming call while scrolling.

"Yeah?"

"Hey, Y/N, it's me", it's your best friend and you silently sigh in relief, hearing her voice has a calming effect on you, "I just wanted to apologize."

"For what?", you mumble, currently preoccupied with One: He will follow you on social media!.

"For, y'know, sorta trying to force you to Rodrick's party. If you don't wanna go that's fine."

You smile, while you render numbers three, four and five useless. Maybe you were wrong, maybe your brother got Greg wrong or Greg got it all mixed up. "No need to apologize, really."

"I just felt so horrible-"

Six: He's a tease

He constantly rips on you — in a jokey, not necessarily mean manner — it’s a sure sign that he’s hoping you’ll be teasing him right back in the near future.

You stare blankly at the words on your monitor.

"Y/N? Are you still there?"

It got worse a few weeks before Heather Hills' sixteenth birthday party.

It was impossible to ignore the way he went after her. It didn't hurt you, or at least that was what you're trying to convince yourself of. Maybe, around that time you were crushing, nothing big, just a small, little early high school crush.

But it annoyed you. It annoyed you how he didn't seem to recognize that she just wasn't interested.

And maybe that was what had hurt you. That he didn't realize that you were there all along, that he wouldn't have to bend over backwards to date someone. Thus, you picked a fight whenever you could, trying to expose every little mistake he made. That's when the name calling started, if you were to recall correctly.

That had been two years and one loveless boyfriend to fill the void ago. And you thought you'd left all of that behind, only engaging in roasting him from time to time.

"Yeah, yeah I'm here."

"Like, are you okay?", she sounds concerned, "You don't sound well."

"I, well-", you swallow.

Loosen up a little.

You're all he talks about.

"I- I changed my mind. When's the party again?"

_

You regret your decision approximately half an hour after arriving at the party.

At first, it's better than you expected, really. The music's blasting, the front door's opened and familiar faces are lingering all around the front yard, drinking, laughing and smoking something that smells suspiciously like pot. Your friend spots her boyfriend, who's sharing a blunt with someone from his art class and because you're really trying to loosen up a little you take a hit or two. It's a nice mellow high, that makes you all giggly.

"I'm gonna get us something to drink, y'all wait here", her boyfriend announces and thus, he and your friend vanish into the house. You just stay outside, a little dumbfounded at first, with some kid from art class you know nothing about. But he turns out to be quite easy to be around and quite focused to get into college as well, and thus you chat away for a few minutes while he talks about applying at the Amsterdam University of Arts after the upcoming christmas break. He's nice and friendly, but your conversation turns shallow very quickly and you realize that you're probably too sober for this. It doesn't take long for you to notice that your friend hasn't returned with the promised drinks yet.

"I'm just gonna-", you interrupt him rambling about the symbolism of postmodern art and gesture towards the house, suddendly feeling very alone and left out, "Be right back."

You don't wait for an answer and head towards the stairs. There are some people from your history class and you throw a few friendly Hello's and What are you doing here's at each other before entering the thicket of early 2010s rock music, weed and alcohol. The lights are low, the music is blasting and there are people literally everywhere. You realize that he must've indeed invited the whole year and that the whole year decided to show up.

There are students on the stairs, dancing, chatting, drinking, squeezing through the hallway, that you remember being significantly less crowded a few days prior, coming from one room or enterning another. There's a group of jocks making their way into, what you assume is the living room, one of them holding a lampshade. You blink in confusion and, not knowing where to look for your friend and her boyfriend first, you decide to follow the jocks into the living room, jumping into the keel water they leave behind in the mass of students crowding the house.

It's where the music is the loudest and you spot one of Rodrick's friends, you think his name's Chris, managing the aux cord, surrounded by some seemingly very drunk girls. You roll your eyes at the sight, feeling lightweighted from the pot as you make your way through the dancing crowd. With having no orientation in the house you let yourself being pushed and pulled by the crowd, left and right, body crashing into others. The song ends and another starts playing and you find yourself rather enjoying the Nelly Furtado song, dancing along as someone bumps into you. It's a girl from your english class and she seems to be shit-faced drunk, so can't really judge if she's actually happy to see you or if it's just the alcohol taking over, but she grabs your hand in a friendly manner and you're too high to care.

"I didn't think you'd come, that's so cool!", she smiles brightly but it's too loud and thus, thinking she's offering you something to drink, you just nod and take the cup from her other hand, downing the thick, sweet liquid in two strong gulps. It burns a little in your throat and you cough but she laughs and so do you.

In hindsight that's the moment you will regret in a few more minutes, but right now you're just feeling oddly alive, like the people in those tacky movies seem to always feel like when they party and you find yourself rather enjoying the unfamiliar feeling.

It takes another two songs until you find yourself feeling slightly drunk and singing along the lines with your class mate. The dancing, lack of fresh oxygen in the room and the pot and alcohol pulsing through your veins, mixed with the colourful lights in the dark of the room, make your head spin. You feel light and actually enjoying yourself being a little careless and you hear your friend's voice ringing in your ears ("You finally loosend up!"), as a firm grip closes around your upper arm.

You laugh, suddendly remembering why you went inside in the first place, girlish giggles errupting from your throat. Thinking it's her you turn around in a whirl.

"There you a-", you holler, only to be greeted by someone who doesn't exactly look like your best friend.

The person is so not your friend.

Fuck.

"Fuck!", Rodrick yells back and you make a face, "What are you doing here?"

"What?", you furrow your brows, pointing at your ears, signaling that you can't fucking hear him in the mess that is his party. You can't recall for how long you've been dancing with What's her name but suddendly snapping out of it, it occurs to you that the whole gathering seems a little out of control. You knew that he was a fucking e-boy weirdo, but pulling a whole Project X seems a little much, even for him.

He rolls his eyes at you, leaning forward. He smells of alcohol, weed and tabacco and you want to punch him.

"What are you doing here?", he repeats but you just shake your head, trying to escape his iron hold.

But his hand on your arm tightens and suddendly you're being pulled forward, as he takes you with him. You're leaving the living room the way you came in, but this time he takes you up the flight of stairs. He's angry, or at least you assume he is, by the sheer force he uses to pull you with him. Your body connects with a few elbows and you mutter a few slurred excuses, until you reach another set of stairs. It's a lot quieter here, no people (except someone who looks like they passed out in an armchair) and the music doesn't seem to shatter your eardrums anymore. There's a little light coming from the top of the stairs.

You blink, before angrily shaking off his hand around your arm.

"Don't you fucking touch me!"

"Easy, Missy, watch your language", he scolds, running a hand through his hair, "What are y'doing here?"

"Drinking", you hold up your empty cup and he rolls his eyes.

"Seriously. What the fuck are you doing here, you're not even invited."

"No one is", you hit him back, tone dry.

He clicks his tongue at that, helplessly looking around.

"Why do you bother, Heffley?", you slur a little, "Afraid I might ruin your game with pretty little Heather Hills?"

He looks at you for a moment and you realize that you might've gone too far. But then he laughs.

You never heard him laugh before, never heard his real genuine laughter, apart from his cackling when he insults you. The sound takes you off guard. It's not bad, quite endearing actually, with the way his lips curl and fine lines appear at the corner of his eyes.

You decide to blame it on the alcohol, but you can't help to notice that he's real pretty up close. Especially when he laughs.

You stare at him, blankly and blinking multiple times.

"My god, Y/N", he shakes his head and takes a sip from his beer.

"What's so funny?", you spit.

"Nothing. Just you being as stupid as I thought you were."

You huff out an offended laugh. "Excuse me? Who are you to talk, huh?"

"Dunno", he slurs, wiping a droplet of beer from his mouth with the back of his hand - disgusting, "At least I am not jumping to idiotic assumptions."

"Oh, aren't you just great, Rodrick? Aren't you just so high and mighty? My god, what would earth do without your intellect? Oh, oh! Wait! I know! We wouldn't have to look at your crusty ass trying to fuck girls that are waaay out of your league!" You clap your hands in an ironic matter, like you just solved an intense riddle.

"D'you really think I'm crusty?"

You blink. "Yeah. No. I mean-"

He mimics your stutter, pulling a face at you. You click your tongue and roll your eyes.

"I mean maybe you are, I really don't wanna know. And I don't even have to, because what I do already know is that you're the most unsuccessful eboy-fuckboy conglomerate to ever walk earth."

Rodrick looks at you, aimlessly waving around his bottle, liquid dancing around in it while he nods. "That one - I don't know. You maybe wanna try that again."

"Why?"

"Why?", he mimics you again and you try to hit him on his arm, but he dodges your hand, catches it with his own, "Because that was just la-zy."

"I said-"

"Yeah, I know what you said, princess. Don't bother me again with it, please." And that, that's just unfair. You stare at him, mouth agape and cheeks turning red underneath your make-up and, because your life's just gotta be like that, something in his brain seems to click.

He makes a pouty face and leans down to you, his smell wavering around you and you can see how his eyeliner's all smudged. "Oooh", he sing-songs, "You like that, don't you?"

You shake your head. This feels like sobering up, only that it's worse than actually sobering up. Even though he likes to act like he isn't, Roderick's somewhat smart and he seems to connect the dots pretty quickly. He laughs, it's the cackle, the snickering laughter again. His eyes sparkle with mischief. Oh, you're so fucked.

"Holy shit, little Miss Perfect actually isn't that innocent, huh?", you really want so smack the grin off of his face, but he holds your strong hand in an even stronger, iron grip.

"Shut up."

He snickers again. "Oh, I can't fucking wait to call you that in the hallway. Oh, or in class!", he barks out a laugh and the sound, deep and dark and it makes you hot all over. You hope it's just rage building up.

"It's not what you think it is", you press out between gritted teeth.

"Yeah, no, it is exactly like I think it is", he comes even closer and your noses are mere inches apart.

He smirks and you feel your knees going weak. You know what he's going to say, but when it reaches your ears it still knocks the air out of your lungs.

"Princess", he whispers in a rasp, voice low and tongue gliding over his incisors.

You inhale sharply and his eyes flicker down to your parting lips.

"Fuck you", you whisper weakly and you hear him laugh quietly, buzz at the the way it gets stuck in his throat.

"Jesus, you're so fucking annoying, Y/N", he murmurs, locking gazes with you again.

There are cheers erupting from the living room downstairs and you're pretty sure they are playing early 2000s pop music now, but you can't bring yourself to care. His eyes are so so dark and they pull you in, his hand oddly warm around your wrist.

"I hate you", you say quietly, "I hate you so much, Rodrick." It's more to remind yourself of it than to convince him, really. He immediately catches on.

"Doubt it", he rapid fires back.

"You better believe it."

"You're giving me quite a hard time at that."

You swallow, his gaze locks with your throat, glides back up. There's a long pause between the two of you and then -

"You wanna fuck?"

You blink dumbfounded. Once, twice and a third time as your body betrays you and you fucking nod.

At that, he slowly starts pushing you backwards and the small of your back hits the handrail of the stairs.

"Need you to say it", Rodrick murmurs, eyes trained on your lips, like he has a really hard time pulling himself together, "Wanna hear you say it, princess."

Your mouth runs dry and your loins catch fire. You swallow as his lips ghost over yours.

"Yeah", you breathe out, "Yeah, fuck, I want to."

They lock and he tastes of cheap cigarettes and beer and weed and you lean into it and backwards just the same, into the arm that sneaks around your waist. Rodrick's lips are soft and gentle, while being in a heated rush to get the most of you. He's a surprisingly good kisser and the little voice in the back of your head nags at the question Why?, but you can't bring yourself to care.

He pushes you up the stairs, lips pressed onto yours, wandering down your neck and leaving a trail of warm kisses there, teeth plucking at the soft skin.

"'S gonna be real good, gonna make it real good for ya", he drawls and your breath hitches, right as you reach the top step. He parts from you for a second to climb it as well, before his hands are on you again. You recognize the attic as what it most likely is: his room. It's a little messy, warm wood and band posters everywhere, one lonely floor lamp trying its best to illuminate the dark room. It's surprisingly cozy.

His fingertips sneak under the soft fabric of your favourite top and they are warm and your skin tingles as they make contact. He gently guides you backward, until the back of your knees touch his mattress and you let yourself sink into its soft fabric, as he climbs on top of you.

"Shit", you hear him huff while he hovers over you, looking at you from heavy lidded eyes. Rodrick's hands push your top up and wander underneath it, gripping your waist and feeling you up. His touch is warm and firm and as your gazes lock once more, like he's looking for confirmation. And then he's suddendly fierce with it, too. He quickly pulls the top over your head and his lips meet your throat again, sucking and nibbling at the warm skin while he's grinding down on you. Your blood pulses underneath his lips and he groans as you bury your fingers in his dark hair, gasping for air.

One of his hands snake around your back and making quick work of your bra, carelessly discarding it into the mess of his room, while his lips follow quickly, closing in around your left nipple.

His hands graze up your body, thumbs caressing your stomach, ribs and then one reaches out, closes in around your right breast, gently squeezing it before running a thumb over your nipple. You breathe out, one hand resting on his neck, the other still buried in his hair. His teeth bite down gently, his thumb and forefinger rolling the other nipple between them.

You moan quietly, a little shy even, while your legs spread around him, your body giving in and giving him more space. His crotch grinds down against yours and you can feel his hard dick pressing against you. It makes you flush.

"Wanna fucking taste you", he murmurs, tongue toying with your hardened nipple, leaving a tingle deep down in your stomach, that wanders down down down and between your legs. His words make your head swim.

"Please", you whisper and he grins against your warm skin, hand snaking back down your body while his lips close around your right nipple, giving it the same treatment.

He lets go off it with an obsence pop, as his hand reaches your trousers, opening them quickly and placing one hand against your crotch. You know you're wet already and you know that he'll feel it, too. Rodrick's gaze meets yours and his eyes are dark with lust as he rubs the palm of your hand over your dampened panties.

"You beg so prettily, huh", he hums and you groan, rubbing yourself against his hand.

"A-always for you", you choke out before you can stop yourself, while his fingers pull your panties to the side, circling your entrance.

Your hips buck and you groan at the cold touch, nearly whine as he pulls them away again. The mattress creaaaks as he moves onto his knees, patting your hips. "Up", he commands and you follow, only for him to pull down both, your pants and underwear in one swift motion, before taking his own shirt off. It starts to dawn on you, that you may have underestimated him and it makes your blood tingle with excitement.

His thumb rubs over your pubic bone, where dark hair's dusted all over your skin and wanders down, rubbing just right above your clit, the motion pulling it's hood back and forth.

"Shit, Rodrick, please", your voice is buried deep in your throat and goosebumps start to raise all over your naked body, while he positions himself between your legs, propping your tailbone up on one of his knees, your legs dangling uselessly at his sides.

Two of his fingers sneak up your vagina, parting its lips carefully, while his thumb wanders down, slowly rubbing large circles over your clit. He watches your pussy growing wetter for a moment, until he bows his head down, forcing your gaze to keep it locked with his.

Spit dribbles down his lips and onto your clit, making you moan at both, the sensation and the view. He spits once more, his saliva running down your lips and pooling at your hole, while he scoots back a little and licks over you clit, spreading his slick.

"Shit", you curse, feeling your abdomen tighten, warmth spreading in you loins. Rodrick's hands wander to you thighs, gripping them and guiding your hips back onto the matress. His mouth follows the movements, tongue toying with your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. It's far from enough, but it feels so so so good.

"Feels good?", you hear him ask and you nod feverishly, hand darting out, catching his wrist. His gaze shoots up and he grins at you. Smug bastard.

"Gonna have you moaning like a whore for me", he whispers and you wonder if he's shy about the fantasy that hides behind it. Your eyelids flutter and your head lolls back a little bit, before you hear your pressed voice, surpressing a moan, ushring out: "Have fun trying, Heffley."

It spurrs him on and has him delving deeper into your folds, tongue licking, swiping and circling your clit, wandering along your folds and lips and only to see you squirm beneath him.

It's wonderful and you find yourself encouraging him, and at some wicked, cursed point one of his hands lets go of your thighs, fingers lacing into yours.

"My god", you groan and your fingers clench around his bedding, the other hand tugging at his, squeezing it, "Shit."

He chuckles and slowly letting go of your other leg, one finger teasing your hole before carefully pushing in. You whine and push towards him. Rodrick starts fucking into you with his finger, curling its digits along your spongy and warm walls and pushing liquid out of and back into you, slowly but steadily prepping you for him, before sliding in a second finger. He stills for a moment, before slowly spreading them apart, making you moan. Your body shudders.

"'S all good", Rodrick murmurs against your folds, his tongue licking a fat and wet stripe over them, all the way down to your clenching hole, "You're doing great, good girl."

You whine and nod and you hear him chuckle, slowly pushing another, third finger into you. His tongue swipes over your clit, before wrapping his lips around it once more, sucking. You close your eyes and roll your hips, as he nestles his digits deep into you. You can feel yourself tightening around them and loose control, as it suddendly feels like you're trying to pushing them out. You gasp for air as wetness floads your folds and he groans against them.

A whiny Rodrick leaves your mouth and your eyes snap open in disappointment as his lips part from pussy, huffing out a silent fuck.

"Atta girl. Been waiting for so long", he hums quietly, "Gonna fuck your pretty brains out." His thumbs grazes over your clit and your hips buck as you watch how he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, again. It's not beer this time, but your glistening juices and he grins at you.

You throw your head back and arch into his touch, wanting more, any sort of friction but his strong grip closes around your thigh and holds your legs open, parted for him. Rodrick's thumb graces over your fingers, that are intertwined with his.

"You're on the pill, right?", he asks, lips buried on the soft flesh of your thighs. You can feel the remaining wetness that your squirting left on his lips and chin smearing across your skin.

"Uh-huh", is all that leaves your mouth, eyelids fluttering.

"C'mon, princess. You can do better than that", he tsks.

"Y-yes", you breathe out and his touch leaves your body. You want to complain, straightening your back a little to take a look at what's taking him so long, but you can already hear his belt buckle clink and the ziiip of his jeans and as your gaze finally meets his form, he's pulling himself out of his boxers. Your mouth waters and you try to scramble on your knees but he's quicker - pushes you back down so forecfully your tits bounce with the impact of your body hitting the mattress, hand on your hips.

"Shh, calm down angel. You're really hungry for it, huh?", Rodrick grins his signature smile at you, but it's rather soft and maybe even a little fond, "Such a little slut. Gonna give it to you in a minute, girl. You'll be alright."

He gets rid of his boxers and wraps one hand around himself, slooowly jerking himself, looking down at your spread form on his bed, chest heaving and flushed. The head of his cock is already a little wet and he takes his thumb, smears the precum all over it, grinning at the way your eyes follow his movements.

"Need you", you stretch your hand out aimlessly and to your genuine surprise, he takes it.

"Got you", he whispers as you spread your legs, one hand around his dick, pushing it into you slowly. His head spreads you delightfully and you hum as he pushes further, deeper, coming to a halt as he's fully sheathed by you.

"Fuck, you feel so good", his hand squeezes yours and you mewl as he starts so pull back, thrusting deep into you. He watches the way he vanishes into your tight hole, his pubic hair already slightly dampened by your wetness.

Your mouth falls agape and you watch the muscles in his stomach clench as he starts to pick up a quicker pace.

The sound of skin slapping on skin fills the air and mingles sweetly with you high pitched moans and his deep grunting, your name falling off his lips occassionally. His pace turned quick and ruthless after only a few deep thrusts but it's just not enough, you feel so full but something's missing.

"Wait, wait", you pant and your hand lands on his shoulder with a loud slap and he still momentarily.

"Yeah? You good, shit you good? Did I hurt you?", his cheeks are flushed and sorrow lines his eyes.

You are quick to shake your head. "No, no", you squirm beneath him, cheeks flushing as with what you're about to say, "I need more."

His brows furrow for a quick moment before the corners of his lips tilt upwards. "Shit, nasty little slut", his hand grazes over your body once more, between your breasts, over your stomach and abdomen, before hooking around your thigh, slowly pulling out of you. He lets go off your hand and helps you onto your knees, gently kneading the flesh of your ass.

"Fuck, you're so pretty", he sighs as he pushes back into you, until the head of his dick pushes flush against your cervix.

"Fuck, yes that's it", you huff out and hear him chuckle deeply behind you.

Rodrick, abandoning his former pace, starts to slowly fuck you, taking his time and thrusting deeply. You stretch out beneath him, with one of his hands on your hip, fingers digging into his pillow. It feels marvelous, how he hits you spongy walls, the way it makes your muscles clench around him.

He carefully starts to build up his pace again, keen on making this last as long as possible. But you have other plans and start pushing back against him, in an effort to coax him into a faster rhythm.

He grunts and suddendly there's something making sharp contact with your ass, skin stinging slightly. You can't hold back the moan that bubbles over your lips at that, quickly turning into a high whine, as you press back into him.

"Yeah, shit", he laughs out of breath, "Thought you'd like that."

The grip on your hip tightens as his control comes loose and he ruts into you, hand coming down on your ass a couple more times, until you're a moaning mess underneath him, squirming and clenching around him.

"Fuck, gonna cum", he groans and his thrusts turn more sloppy, hand reaching to your front, a sole finger rubbing your clit. It doesn't take much more than that to get your overstimulated nerves to give in and you cum, heavily clenching around his dick. It sends him over, too and he nearly collapses on top of you. Your legs shake as he pulls out of you and you feel his cum leaking out of your hole. Slowly, you collapse down onto his mattress, but you couldn't care less as your eyes fall shut and you roll on your side, facing the stairs. You're exhausted and the noises from downstairs only faintly reach your ears. Everything feels and sounds far far away.

As you slowly fade back to reality you realize that the party downstairs is still a rager and relief washes over your blissed out state. You're glad no one seemed to had noticed.

The mattress dips next to you and then there's an arm around your waist.

"Still hate me?", you hear his coarse voice whisper into your neck, cold nose nuzzling against your warm, sweaty skin.

You yawn, totally fucked out, but with a warm, fuzzy feeling tingling in your stomach. You'll both would have to get dressed soon, to head back down, but you'll need a couple more minutes.

"Yeah", you mutter but he only laughs at that.