#they just keep going like that forever and ever

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Zayne, and Sylus react to his shy gn s/o asking him if they can sit on his lap please?

You don’t even have to ask him. His lap is your permanent seat, your throne and Sylus wouldn’t want you sat anywhere else other than his lap.

You provably didn’t even have to finish the question before Sylus’s grab your hand and pull you into his lap, smirking as you griped his shoulder to stabilise yourself while getting comfortable on his plush thighs.

‘For future reference, you don’t need to ask for permission to sit on my lap, just sit on it however you wish I don’t mind little kitten.’ He’d say as he kisses just under your jaw and your neck gently.

However the moment you are pulled into his lap, you’re never getting off, even if you asked nicely he’ll tilt his head to the side and say;

‘Isn’t this what you wanted sweetie? To sit on my lap and now you want off? I’m hurt.’ And the cheeky bastard will have a pout upon his face to emphasise his sadness at you wanting to get off his lap. Sylus is a little goofus despite his intimidating appearance.

‘That’s not what I meant!’ You’d exclaim. ‘I just don’t want your legs to go numb-‘

‘Nonsense kitten, I’d much rather prioritise you and your needs over my own.’ Sylus interrupts as he keeps you close to him, his large hands squeezing your waist, kneading it as though it was play dough. Needless to say your stuck on his lap for the foreseeable future and Sylus is happy as fuck to have you on his lap.

Sylus could keep you on his lap forever if he could. There will be no need for any other seat in the large house to exist when you’re always put into his lap from the moment you wake, all the way to the moment you fall asleep.

No chair, nor sofa, no anything could compare to sitting on Sylus’s lap unironically he loves the weight you provide when you sit on his lap. It’s comforting and satisfying to him in a plethora of ways that words fail to describe accurately enough for his liking. So it doesn’t matter whether your skinny or not because the same end result is that Sylus will refuse you getting off his lap.

it’s the closest you guys have ever been and he’s high off of feeling your warm and your body on top of his own that he’s engraved the feeling of you sitting in his lap so much that it’s an common occurrence within his dreams to have you on his lap happy, albeit shy, but content.

The lesson to take away from this is that you should be careful what you wish for because you just might end up becoming Sylus’s personal lap warmer, given with how often he pulls you into his lap and keeps you there while he does his work and doesn’t care who’s seeing such a sight. You’re his and his alone and he’s more than proud to show you off, even if your head is buried into his chest to quell your flustered state.

This sweetheart couldn’t deny you even if he tried, your every wish is his command and if you wanted to sit on his lap? Then who was he to deny such a request that came from your mouth so sweetly and polite.

‘As you wish my beloved.’ He’d say as he guides you onto his lap, holding you by the waist respectfully after you’ve adjusted yourself to a more comfortable position.

He likes it when you’re on top- who said that?!

He, like Sylus, finds your weight on his lap comforting and it reassures him that you’re with him and this is not actually a dream he’s made up in his mind and he couldn’t help but smile softly as he keeps you close, even going so far as to rest his head atop of your own as he indulges in this sweet moment between the two of you.

After a hard day at work Zayne would gladly have you sit on his lap, it’s the only thing that could ground him in this moment as he relaxed with you sat upon his lap, probably spending quality time together as you gave him a slow, almost intimate shave. His favourite way to spend time with you to be honest.

He’d hum softly as he felt the need to sleep come easier to him when your atop of his lap, your weight comforting him much like a blanket would, all the while his hands rested against your waist or near the small of your back and tracing patterns and shapes into the skin from your shirt slipping up slightly. It’s heaven to him and he’ll hope you felt the same.

If you ever need to get off his lap, he’ll let you but he’ll internally hate the loss of weight and warmth and will go as far as to wait until you were ready to sit back in his lap again, where he’ll once again keep you close to him and rest his head in the crook of your neck as he indulges in the moment once more.

He’s like a cat in human skin who loves to leech off of your warmth and is very adamant to let you leave his space, but lets you do so because he’s an absolute gentleman.

Anyway Zayne loves having you on his lap, it’s his happy place as he gets to look at you up close and personal that he couldn’t help but press his forehead against your own from time to time, whether that be to admire you or engrave this moment into his head.

But sooner or later you both slowly drift off to sleep on the sofa, cuddled tightly together with little smiles gracing your lips.

[y3sterdaysproblem]

smoke and mirrors - chris sturniolo

chapter three

summary: your best friend Matt backs out of plans you had made together, so you replace him with his brother. the only problem is the two of you can’t stand each other.

{enemies to lovers, fake dating}

includes : explicit language, fluff, smut(penetration, oral, fingering, etc.), angst if you squint, lots of bickering, slow burn

tw: slight body issues in this chapter.

wc: 3.2k

-

The wedding was in a week and you found yourself out shopping with the triplets trying to find Chris a tie that would match your dress, which was just a simple, deep red, slim fitting, sleeveless dress. It was sexy and flattering, but nowhere near enough to draw attention from the bride or bridal party.

You had been shopping for a while, mostly goofing off, but now you guys had made it to Men’s Warehouse and were actually looking for what you needed. You carried around a swatch of your dress color so you could find something as close as possible, holding it up to every dark red tie you found, but nothing was to your liking just yet.

“How about this one?” Chris asks, holding another one up, and you walk over and hold up your swatch, shaking your head. “Too bright,” you say, to which he groans.

“We’ve looked at like twenty different ties, one of these has to match,” he complains, putting the tie back.

“The perfect match is out there, I know it is. We just have to keep looking,” you tell him, still perusing the array of options throughout the store.

Matt and Nick followed behind you guys, chit chatting with each other while you and Chris bickered over whether or not the reds matched, which they obviously didn’t.

“Haven’t you ever seen those pictures on the internet?” You ask Chris.

He raises an eyebrow, looking down at you. “Very descriptive, I definitely have,” he replies sarcastically.

You roll your eyes. “You know, the ones where girls ask their boyfriend if they can tell the difference between two really similar nail polishes? Most of them can’t tell the difference, but women can! So when you say that these ties are ‘close enough’, they’re just not. It has to be perfect, these pictures are going to be around forever, and as much as I wish you weren’t in the pictures, I at least want to make sure we look good.”

“Stop comparing me to a boyfriend, dude, it’s getting weird,” Chris shudders at the thought and you just shake your head, knowing that he wasn’t listening to a damn thing you were saying and is just trying to rush through this store. “How about this one?”

Chris holds up a tie for you to look at, and you hold your swatch up to it, instantly beaming up at him. “It’s perfect!” You tell him, bouncing on your toes in excitement. “See? Don’t you see how well that matches?”

He looks down at the two colors pressed together and reluctantly nods. “Yeah, that looks pretty good,” he agrees.

“Great!” You smile, grabbing the tie from his hands. “Now we buy this and we’re all done.”

Chris lets out a sigh of relief and turns to his brothers, ready to be done conversing with you for the time being. He makes eye contact with Matt who smiles at him and mouths the words ‘help me’ while pointing towards your frame that happily skipped up to the register.

Matt laughed and patted Chris on the shoulder. “You agreed to it,” he tells him.

Back at the triplets house, you’re all crowded in Nick’s room, your dress laid out on his bed and Chris’s suit laid right next to it. “You put yours on first,” you tell him.

You wanted to see how you guys looked together before the actual day of the wedding, so you decided to try everything on now that you guys were both home and had corresponding outfits. You had brought your dress over earlier before you went shopping so that it was ready for you when you guys got back home.

Chris picks up his suit from the bed and walks into Nick’s bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

“How are you handling being Chris’s girlfriend?” Nick asks curiously, waggling his eyebrows at you.

You just laugh. “It’s not that bad, we just take pictures together every so often, but it’s just pictures. As much as I hate it I just have to remind myself that he’s giving me a date to a wedding so I don’t have to hear everyone asking me why I don’t have a boyfriend. A couple pictures in return for a night of silence sounds like a win to me.”

Nick and Matt chuckle, still shocked that you guys agreed to help each other in such an intimate way, considering your history.

“Why do I have a feeling you guys are going to fall in love?” Nick teases, but you just scoff at him.

“Yeah, right. I’d rather date you,” you smirk at Nick and make a kissy face towards him, leaning in like you were going to kiss him.

Nick cringes and puts his hand in your face, pushing you away as you guys hear the door open, Chris walking out in his suit, his tie in his hand.

“I, uh, don’t know how to tie this,” he says shyly, holding it out, clearly embarrassed.

You look around at his brothers and see them both looking just as clueless as Chris did. “Seriously?” You ask them.

“Our mom or dad always did it for school dances,” Matt tells you. “Never really worn a tie other than that.”

You huff and stand up off the bed, walking over to Chris, snatching the new tie out of his hands. “You guys are helpless,” you mumble, starting to situate the tie around his neck.

“‘M not helpless,” Chris says lowly, his voice slightly pouty.

“Oh, of course not,” you reply, looking up at him. “You’re just a twenty one year old boy that doesn’t know how to tie a tie, or fill out forms, or make a restaurant reservation…” you trail off.

“The fuck? I made a reservation for you and Matt tomorrow,” he argues.

“Tomorrow?” Matt whips his head around to look at his brother.

“Yeah?” Chris responds, looking at Matt over your head. “I told you I’d book it and then let you know when it was.”

“You didn’t think to ask first? Chris, I have plans,” Matt groans.

Chris’s eyes widen. “What fucking plans?! You never go anywhere.”

“I have an actual date tomorrow, I can’t make that. You should’ve told me when it was first or asked when I was free,” Matt tells him, finality clear in his voice.

“Kid, I had to put fucking a deposit down for this place, it’s non refundable. You need to go. Just reschedule your date.” Chris tells him.

Matt shakes his head, looking at Chris seriously. “No, dude, I’m not rescheduling. You should’ve asked.”

Chris groans and throws his head back, currently hating his life. You finish up with the tie and reach up to brush off Chris’s shoulders, then swipe your hands down his arms quickly before backing away. “Done,” you tell him, admiring your work. “You know, you could just suck it up and grab dinner with me. I’m not the worst person to be around.”

Chris turns around and goes back in the mirror to look at himself, shrugging a bit. “I’d prefer not to, but I also don’t want to lose my deposit.” He walks back out of the bathroom and past you, going to sit on the bed. “Alright, try your dress on now so I can take this off.”

You nod and grab your dress before walking into the bathroom, shutting the door after you. You slip off all of your clothes and step into your dress, pulling the straps over your shoulders. It fits well, and when you bought the dress a couple of months ago, you fell in love with it and the way it looked on your body, but now as you stare in the mirror, pulling the sides tight against your waist as the zipper was still down in the back, you couldn’t help but focus on all the imperfections staring back at you in the mirror. It almost makes you fully take the dress off and call it a day, figuring you’ll just put it on the day of the wedding and suck it up, but you would feel too bad making Chris get dressed up just to back out.

You’ve never explicitly told any of the triplets about any of your insecurities, just threw a few self deprecating comments out there like people normally do, and for the most part you were a confident person, but everyone had their days, and today was just one of those days.

You reach back and try to pull the zipper up, but you’re only able to zip it about halfway up on your own, so you slip back into your happy demeanor before you open the door and walk out, smiling at the three boys staring back at you. “Can one of you zip me up?” You ask.

Chris stands up from the bed and walks towards you. You’re shocked to see him volunteering without being coerced into it, but say nothing, afraid to startle him back to his senses. You just turn around and move your hair off your back, pulling it over your shoulder and he reaches out, grabbing the zipper and pulling it all the way up. “Good,” he tells you, and you turn back around to face him again.

“How do I look?” You ask the room, smiling wide and putting your hands on your hips dramatically. Chris moves out of the way so his brothers can see you, but keeps his eyes on your body.

“The same as you always look,” he retorts bluntly.

“You look hot,” Nick nods his head enthusiastically in approval.

“What Nick said,” Matt says in agreement. “I’m kind of sad I can’t make it now.”

You giggle at Matt’s words, feeling your ears heat up a little bit. You didn’t necessarily have a crush on Matt, but you couldn’t ignore the fact that he was attractive and his words did have a little bit of an effect on you.

“Thanks, guys. Come here, Chris, I want to look at us in the mirror.” You tell him and walk back into the bathroom where he follows you.

You both stand in the mirror together, looking at your outfits. You scrunch your eyebrows together and brush your hands over your dress, trying to pull it in a couple different directions to make it look more flattering on your body.

“What are you doing?” Chris asks you, watching you through the mirror as you play with your dress.

“Trying to fix the dress,” you mumble, sucking in a little bit as you turn to the side to stare at your reflection from another angle. “I think I gained a little weight and I just.. don’t really like how this is looking.”

Chris turns to look at you instead of your reflection, seeing how distraught you actually looked by the sight of your body in the dress.

“There’s nothing to fix, the dress is fine.” Chris is clearly uncomfortable at the way you’re speaking, but has no idea how to manage the situation. It was bad enough that he wasn’t good at dealing with other peoples’ emotions, but you two also weren’t close, so his urge to run away was even stronger than normal.

“It’s not the dress, I just…” your voice falters, eyes still glued to your body in the mirror. “I look bad.”

“Stop it,” he tells you, reaching out to turn your body towards his. You turn and look up to meet his eyes, your own starting to well with tears. “Why are you crying?”

You sniffle and shrug your shoulders, unable to speak in fear of your voice giving out on you.

He reaches behind himself and shuts the door, blocking his two brothers from earshot of you guys. “Why are you crying?” He asks you again, more firm this time.

You look down at the ground, sucking in a deep breath. “I’m just upset at how I look,” you tell him, voice high pitched and squeaky. “I really liked this dress when I got it but… I don’t know how I feel now.”

Chris sighs and reaches forward, placing a finger under your chin so he could tilt up your head. “Stop crying,” he tells you. “You look really good in that dress. Your body is incredible and you know it, that’s why you always walk around my house in your little booty shorts and a sports bra, isn’t it?”

You cough out a laugh and reach up to wipe a couple tears that fell down your cheek. “Not really, I’m just really comfortable around you guys. Even you wouldn’t think to comment on my body. You’re dumb but you’re not that dumb.”

Chris rolls his eyes at you and shakes his head. “Well, I’m commenting on it and I’m telling you that you look fine. Girls would kill to look like you. Once you do your hair and your makeup and shave your legs or whatever girls do you’ll feel way better about how you look. So, sort yourself out, change back into your clothes and go cuddle with my brothers or whatever weird shit you do with them.”

You smile and nod, the tears subsiding almost completely as he speaks. “Okay,” you mutter. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Chris replies. “Seriously. Ever. I don’t ever want anyone knowing I… comforted you.”

You giggle at his words and watch as he turns to leave the bathroom before you try and stop him.

“Wait, Chris,” you touch his shoulder and he turns around, looking at you confusedly. “I need you to unzip me.”

“Oh,” Chris starts, moving his feet to come back to you. You turn around and place your hands over your breasts to hold the dress in place once it’s unzipped and he reaches up to unzip it down to your lower back, the small spaghetti straps falling off of your shoulders as he does so. “There you go.”

You turn back around to face him, still holding the dress. His eyes couldn’t help but wander, taking one last look at your body, so close to being completely naked in front of him. All you had to do was let go and the dress would fall to the floor-

“I said thanks,” you say loudly and Chris clears his throat, looking back up to your eyes. He doesn’t respond, just leaves the bathroom and shuts the door, not even speaking to his brothers before he leaves Nick’s room and heads towards his own.

You turn back to the mirror and drop the dress, staring at yourself a few minutes longer, and the more you stand there, the more you feel your mood shifting, and what started as a judgmental and negative stare slowly turns into you checking yourself out, posing for yourself almost completely naked apart from your underwear. You hum to yourself and send a wink towards your reflection before getting dressed again, walking into Nick’s room.

Right now you wore sweatpants and a loose crop top with the collar cut out so it hung off your shoulders, but you strutted over to Nick’s dresser where you had some clothes you had left and he had so graciously washed for you, digging out a pair of old Nike pros and a sports bra, turning around and smirking at the boys that watched you from the bed, eyes wide.

“What… happened in there?” Nick asks, scared for the answer.

You just giggle and rip your shirt over your shoulders in front of both boys, causing Matt to gasp and cover his eyes with his fingers, though he might’ve kept a small slit between his pointer and middle finger, who knows, whereas Nick’s eyes just got even wider, his eyes trailing over your body as you pulled the sports bra over your head, changing your bottom half next until you were fully changed, letting Matt know he was okay to look.

“I know you’re my best friend but I am still only a man,” Matt tells you, not so subtly checking you out, which only boosted your confidence more. Maybe you were searching for validation in the wrong people, but fuck it you needed it right now and if Matt and god forbid Chris were going to be the men that made you feel like they were going to melt at the sight of you then so be it.

“It’s like window shopping,” you tell Matt with a grin. “You can admire but you can’t touch.”

Matt couldn’t help his cheeks turning slightly darker at your words. “Sure…” he replies, definitely not sure.

“Anyway,” you start, clapping your hands together. “You guys hungry? I’m in the mood to cook.”

-

You had scrounged up what you could in the triplets’ kitchen and ended up cooking them some basic pasta, throwing all the boys’ portions onto a plate along with your own, putting everything on the table, calling Matt and Nick to the table who sat on their couch waiting patiently for dinner to be ready.

“I’m gonna get your brother,” you tell them with a smile before skipping towards the stairs, heading down them quickly. “Chris?” You call, standing in his doorframe.

He glances up at you quickly then back down at his phone before he rips his head back up, doing a double take, eyes scanning over the new outfit that had adorned your body. “Uh,” he drawls, looking up to meet your gaze. “Can I help you?”

You smile and place one foot on top of the other, your front knee buckled slightly, hands placed on the doorframe as you stared back at him where he lay on his bed. “I made dinner. You coming?”

Chris thinks about it for a moment before he shakes his head. “I’m not hungry.” He tells you, looking back down at his phone.

You huff and walk over to him until you’re standing next to his bed, reaching down to grab his phone and pull it behind your back. “Already made you a plate.” You tell him.

Chris furrows his eyebrows and sits up on the bed, quickly getting frustrated with you. “Stop fucking doing that shit every time your spoiled ass doesn’t get what you want. Give me my fucking phone.” He says aggressively, voice a tad louder than it normally is.

“Not until you come have dinner with us. I don’t want your food going to waste,” you pout, both hands now securely locked behind your back, phone held sideways between them. “Don’t be so rude, it’s fucking annoying.”

Chris scoffs out a laugh and shakes his head in disbelief. “I’m rude? You’re just coming in my room and snatching shit out of my hands like a fucking toddler, that seems pretty rude to me.”

You take a tiny step closer to Chris, jutting out your bottom lip. “Please?” You beg.

He’s still for a moment, and at first when his body starts to move, your first thought is that he’s giving in and standing up to go have dinner with you and his brothers, but you’re quickly proven wrong when he stands up and grabs your bicep, flipping your body around. You squeal at the sudden movement, stumbling over your own to feet as he spins you.

What you definitely didn’t expect was him facing you towards the bed and grabbing your hands that were still behind your back with one hand, his other hand taking his phone and shoving it in his pocket. He pushes you down on the bed aggressively, your feet still on the floor but your body bent over with your chest pressed into the mattress, leaning over your back until his mouth was next to your ear, making sure you heard the words that were about to fall from his lips.

“Watch your fucking attitude around me before I fucking make you.”

He aggressively shoves your arms, pushing you into the bed roughly as he lets go of you, glaring your way as he starts to walk out of his room, eventually turning his head and exiting, stomping up the stairs.

You use your now free hands to push yourself up until you’re standing straight again, then use them to reach up to your bun that almost completely fell out, grabbing the hair tie and ripping it out.

It took you a moment to process what had happened, but you thought back to it and how it made you feel, and most importantly the newfound throbbing between your legs. You stand there in silence, arms dropped to your sides, until you let out a quiet and confused,

“What the fuck?”

-

a/n: the tension is buildinggggg yall feel it??

taglist

@liiixsturniolos @madelinesturn @st6niolo @mattslolita @ifwdominicfike @sophand4n4 @chris-hallelujah @sophsturns @ariana2saucyy @045696 @scorpioosworld @byhrxb @vickytaa @taelovesmattsturniolo @secret-sturniolo @theboredknightcat-blog @slvtf0rchr1s @flouqissss @gabri3la-sturns @delilahsturniolo @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @vanillsstuff @sturnlsstuff @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @mattsbrat @mattsfavoritestar @dominicfikeenthusiast @certified-sturniolo @chrisslollipop @noplaceissafeanymore @sofiaaguilaxx @idrk2292 @dylansfavwife @pvssychicken @sturnl0ve @sturnioloangelxoxo @afilmbykay @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @r0s3luvr @milasturniolo @mattsdillion

[dadzinsideyou]

God this is going to be easy making you look like a monkey fuckin a football, seriously its unreal on how absolutely fucking retarted you are and i mean lickin the glass, hockey helmet wearing retarded because, you know ABSOLUTELY FUCKIN NOTHING ABOUT YOUR FUCKIN COUNTRY AND HOW SHIT ACTUALLY WORKS! IM NOT EVEN MMMEERRIIICCAAN BUT I KNOW 100x MORE ABOUT IT & HOW THE REAL WORLD WORKS and just to let you know.....DONALD J DRUMPF AKA TRUMP IS A FUCKIN SATANIC, PEDO JEW AND ALL JEWS WORSHIP SATAN BECAUSE THAT IS THEIR GOD. https://archive.org/details/the-hidden-tyranny

1. CORPORATIONS DO NOT VOTE FOR THEIR PRES & VICE PRES AND YOU LIVE IN A CORPORATION, EVERY STATE, CITY, COUNTY, CITY, TOWN IS A CORPORATION OWNED BY THE SATANIC, GENOCIDAL VATICAN & RUN N CONTROLLED BY THE CROWN. NO NOT THE WRINKLED OLD GUTTER CUNT ON THE THROWN....THE CROWN TEMPLE, AKA THE CROWN BAR, IN THE "CITY OF LONDON" AND I MEAN THE SOVERIEGN CITY STATES, WHICH ARE NOT PART OF THAT COUNTRIES LAWS OR JURISDICTION....THEY ARE OUT SIDE THE LAW AND GOVERN THEMSELVES. THEY INCLUDE MOSCOW, NEW YOUR CITY-WHICH IS ACTUALLY " THE UNITED NATIONS CITY ", GENIVA, CERN, MONICO, SINGAPORE, PUERTO RICO ( HOME OF IRS), DC, VAT CITY.

Passage of the Federal Reserve Act was a major milestone on the “road to serfdom” that this entire progression outlines. The conspiratorial nature of matters is exemplified in comments by one of the major actors in the triumph of the Federal Reserve, Edward Mandell House, who had this to say in a private meeting with President Woodrow Wilson:. BOTH J3WS

“[Very] soon, every American will be required to register their biological property in a national system designed to keep track of the people and that will operate under the ancient system of pledging. By such methodology, we can compel people to submit to our agenda, which will effect our security as a chargeback for our fiat paper currency. Every American will be forced to register or suffer being able to work and earn a living. They will be our chattel, and we will hold the security interest over them forever, by operation of the law merchant under the scheme of secured transactions. Americans, by unknowingly or unwittingly delivering the bills of lading to us will be rendered bankrupt and insolvent, forever to remain economic slaves through taxation, secured by their pledges. They will be stripped of their rights and given a commercial value designed to make us a profit and they will be none the wiser, for not one man in a million could ever figure our plans and, if by accident one or two should figure it out, we have in our arsenal plausible deniability. After all, this is the only logical way to fund government, by floating liens and debt to the registrants in the form of benefits and privileges. This will inevitably reap to us huge profits beyond our wildest expectations and leave every American a contributor to this fraud which we will call “Social Insurance.” Without realizing it, every American will insure us for any loss we may incur and in this manner, every American will unknowingly be our servant, however begrudgingly. The people will become helpless and without any hope for their redemption and, we will employ the high office of the President of our dummy corporation to foment this plot against America.”

LOOK AT YOUR MAIL, I.D, BILLS, BANK STATEMENT.....YOUR NAME IS IN ALL CAP LETTERS. ONLY CORPORATIONS CAN USE CAP LETTERS . IT IS NOT PROPER ENGLISH OR GRAMMAR TO EVEN USE CAP LETTERING. YOU HAVE BEEN TURNED INTO A CORPORATION, A DEAD LEGAL FICTION, YOU OWN NOTHING EVERYTHING YOU REGISTERED...ie.... 1. HOUSE (land reg/title) says you are the RENTER 2. Car...you are legal user, 3. Guns 4. CHILDREN via BIRTH CERTIFICATE....you signed them over to the gov as CHATTLE...AKA STRAWAN.

PERSON -DEF IN REG DICTIONARY...A HUMAN, ETC.. .IN LAW....BLACKS LAW DICTIONARY.....A CORPORATION, A LEGAL FICTION.

HUMAN BEING - BLACKS LAW - MONSTER

Who Really Elects The President Of The United States? Not You.

Hilariously, our consent to this 15th Amendment and to voter registration means that 100 million “public voters” all cast their votes solely in the District of Columbia, not in the state they live – which in the electoral college, D.C. only represents 3 electoral votes out of 538.

17th Amendment:

“The Senate of the United States shall be composed of two Senators from each State, elected by the people thereof, for six years; and each Senator shall have one vote. The electors in each State shall have the qualifications requisite for electors of the most numerous branch of the State legislatures.”

The Electoral College consists of these electors, who formally elect the President and Vice President of the United States (this is not the original united states of America, but the United States corporation). Since 1964, there have been 538 electors in each presidential election, as held in Article 2, Section 1, Clause 2 of the Constitution.

The Electoral College is an indirect election. This means that all registered Untied States “citizens” do not elect their president! Instead, the people elect congressmen, who along with their chosen political party, delegate the power of “elector” to others and thus the president (Chief Executive Officer ) is elected through the electoral college. This is how all major corporations work – the board of directors (congress) elect the CEO (president) of the corporation (United States).

So what happens to the millions upon millions of registered votes from the citizens (registered U.S. “persons”) of the United States?

It’s simple, really… The peoples votes are at best counted and the results may be similar to the 3 electoral college votes of the District of Columbia that are made by the electors (as public opinion) – the corporation that all voters are contractually “registered” to vote in and claim consensual residence in!

Through the electoral college, the constitutional “electors” of each state then vote for who the president and vice president of the corporation will be, each state having a different number of electoral votes based on population.

And the electoral college overrules the popular vote!!!

In other words, for all of the hoopla, pomp and circumstance, and billions and billions of dollars that surround the public vote for the presidential elections every four years, the whole thing is completely for show to fool the people into thinking they are electing the president! Because the popular (persons) vote doesn’t really count for anything…

The bible says that, “My people perish from a lack of knowledge.” –Hosea 4: 6 (KJV).

In the case of legal persons, this could not be a more true statement. Men perish and virtually cease to exist because of their lack of knowledge of legalese and because of their own contractual corporate person-hood.

The voters of each state and the District of Columbia, through the political party system, vote for electors to be their authorized constitutional participants (electors) in a presidential election without most voters even knowing this is happening. Electors are free to vote for anyone eligible to be President, but in practice pledge to vote for specific candidates according to their political party, and political parties (not the people) cast ballots for favored presidential and vice presidential candidates by voting for correspondingly pledged electors within the party. Keep in mind that the Democratic and Republican parties, just like the BAR, are 100% private associations that do not represent the people in any way, though that is not what their media ads tell the people (voters) who support them.

What is the legal definition of “elector” from Bouvier’s law dictionary, 1856?

ELECTOR – government. One who has the right to make choice of public officers one, who has a right to vote. – 2. The qualifications of electors are generally the same as those required in the person to be elected; to this, however, there is one exception; a naturalized citizen may be an elector of president of the United States, although he could not constitutionally be elected to that office.

ELECTORS OF PRESIDENT. Persons elected by the people, whose sole duty is to elect a president and vice-president of the U. S. – 2. The Constitution provides, Am. art. 12, that “the electors shall meet in their respective states, and vote by ballot for president and vice-president, one of whom at least shall not be an inhabitant of the same state with themselves; they shall name in their ballots the person voted for as president, and in distinct ballots the person voted for as vice-president; and they shall make distinct lists of all persons voted for as president, and of all persons voted for as vice-president, and of the number of votes for each; which list they shall sign and certify, and transmit, sealed, to the seat of the government of the United States, directed to the president of the senate; the president of the senate shall, in the presence of the senate and the house of representatives, open all the certificates, and the votes shall then be counted; the person having the greatest number of, votes for president, shall be the president, if such number be the majority of the whole number of electors appointed; and if no, person have such majority, then from the persons having the highest numbers, not exceeding three, on the list of those voted for as president, the house of representatives shall choose immediately, by ballot, the president. But in choosing the president, the votes shall be taken by states, the representation from each state having one vote; a quorum, for this purpose, shall consist of a member or members from two-thirds of the states, and a majority of all the states shall be necessary to a choice. And if the house of representatives shall not choose a president whenever the right of choice shall devolve upon them, before the fourth day of March next following, then the vice-president shall act as president, as in the case of the death or other constitutional disability of the president. – 3. “The person having the greatest number of votes as vice-president shall be vice-president, if such number be a majority of the whole number of electors appointed and if no person have a majority, them from the two highest numbers on the list, the senate shall choose the vice-president; a quorum for the purpose shall consist of two-thirds of the whole number of senators, and a majority of the whole number shall be necessary to a choice. But no person constitutionally ineligible to the office of president, shall be eligible to that of vice-president of the United States.” Vide 3 Story, Const. §1448 to 1470.

Who In The Hell Are The Actual “Electors” Of The President Of This United States?

What we have here in America is what is called “Legislative Democracy”. Authority is delegated by the people to their congressmen, and in turn they make all decisions for the people, and the people never actually vote on any legislation, and therefore never actually vote on the laws that bind them. If that’s not slavery by legislative democracy, I don’t know what is!

This privilege of the electoral college election of the president of the United States is delegated each year by your congressmen (538 house and senate members of each state, who each have one vote per the constitution) and by the political parties themselves – delegated to other citizens of their perspective states called “electors”.

The Twelfth Amendment provides for each “elector” to cast one vote for President and one separate vote for Vice President. It also specifies how a President and Vice President are elected. In practice the pres and vice-pres are always of the same party. But in reality, they are elected separately, and so the United States could technically have a mixed party ticket. But the public would get really confused at this, and so the electors will never vote in that way so as to retain the quite open secret of their elite college.

12th Amendment:

The Electors shall meet in their respective states, and vote by ballot for President and Vice-President, one of whom, at least, shall not be an inhabitant of the same state with themselves; they shall name in their ballots the person voted for as President, and in distinct ballots the person voted for as Vice-President, and they shall make distinct lists of all persons voted for as President, and all persons voted for as Vice-President and of the number of votes for each, which lists they shall sign and certify, and transmit sealed to the seat of the government of the United States, directed to the President of the Senate (the vice president).

The President of the Senate shall, in the presence of the Senate and House of Representatives, open all the certificates and the votes shall then be counted.

The person having the greatest Number of votes for President, shall be the President, if such number be a majority of the whole number of Electors appointed; and if no person have such majority, then from the persons having the highest numbers not exceeding three on the list of those voted for as President, the House of Representatives shall choose immediately, by ballot, the President…

To get the full skinny from the Congressional Research Center, read this: http://fpc.state.gov/documents/organization/36762.pdf

Nowhere here does it mention you, me, or any of the approximately 100 million “registered” voters in the United States. In short, the people do not in any way elect their president – though apparently most have been led to believe they do judging by the media circus that happens every four years costing billions of taxpayer and private campaign dollars. The presidency is really won by which ever political party lobbies the “electors” best, and by which party those electors represent and are members of. This is why someone like me will never be the president of the United States – unless, perhaps, the people actually wake up from their collective dream-state and finally realize that they do not have a choice, and finally revolt against the system that fools and re-enslaves them every four years. Silly persons…

Even more disturbing is to actually see a list of who these “electors” are:

To view the entire list of 2008 electors, click here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_United_States_presidential_electors,_2008

Since the very first president, people have been expecting their whole life to turn around with a single vote. It never has. Fluctuations in quality of life will always remain and the majority will never be happy.

However, after over 100 years and countless presidents, you feed into the propaganda that “he will change it all!”.. And in the end, he never does…HERE are the facts…

– Your vote does not count.

– Voting is submission to Tyranny.

– Voting is an act of tolerance, not an act of support. (few will understand this)

– When you vote, you not only cast a paper ballot; you confirm that you approve of the system and those who run it – corruption and all.

– Voting is old school, outdated and defunct. It’s only existent for traditional purposes, because regardless of who wins, the show never, EVER changes.

– Voting is a written, personal contribution to murder, thievery, bribery, war, and everything the government does wrong. If your vote counts for anything, it is for ignorance due to this simple fact.

– Voting has NEVER changed anything major for the better. All of the “could have(s), would have(s), and will(s) are purely hypothetical bullshit that mean nothing.

– Your vote provides consent. That consent is what fuels our slavery to the government, allows them to be in control and tells them “hey, I’m fucking stupid and I haven’t figured out that this is all a big scam, yet.”

– Your vote alone, all by itself, show’s massive amounts of ignorance. The most intelligent thinkers of all time WERE NOT VOTERS, because they knew and understood the hypocrisy involved with voting. They refused to provide their consent to war, murder, high crime and economic rape. Only those who understand the way the system works – for real – will understand this.

– Once elected, that president RARELY EVER makes any of the changes he swore to make. It’s always the opposite, filled with bullshit excuses and sugar-coated with public aid.

– The Electoral College

– The fact that you had no say in choosing the candidates themselves.

– You’re likely voting on one to two major factors, which will most likely receive NO attention. So, all in all, you’re voting based on a politician’s opinion.

– Abortion has not been outlawed, guns have not been outlawed, medicare has not been dumped, social security has not been dumped and healthcare has not been improved, EVER, regardless of who is in office.

China Already Has A Large Army Inside America - Gatestone Institute Expert: Secure The Border Or 'We're Going To Be Fighting On Our Own Soil' As China Has Been Planning The Destruction Of The U.S. For Decades.

To the men who voted for Donald Trump today:

When your girlfriend gets pregnant, and you’re not ready to become a father, and you’re forced into a position that cripples you emotionally, financially and irreversibly, remember: you did this.

When your sister’s pregnancy turns out to be ectopic, and she can’t get the life-saving medical care she needs and dies a completely pointless, preventable death, remember: you did this.

When your 12-year-old daughter is raped by her soccer coach — after he’s legally allowed to strip off her pants and peep at her genitals, because the existence of trans kids terrifies you — and she steals your shotgun and kills herself in your garage, remember, first and foremost: you did this.

Hundreds of thousands of people are going to die because of the decision you made today.

You did that.

[filurig]

Well i have decided to make a little silly phenomenon in pareidolia so. yes folke is used as an example for a reason no i wont elaborate... but i will elaborate about the phenomenon below...

most humans associate the scars with trolls (keep in mind this is about basilisks in the nordics so) because of the idea that trolls shapeshift (in Pareidolia Reality they don't and the "real" trolls are more baueresque than the more traditional view. but its all human terminology anyway lol). any humans with troll scars tend to try to hide them bcs of it, but it can be hard depending on how extensive they are - if you just got a scar where you have extra furring, you may just be able to shave it. if you got the feather variant, it might suck a bit more lol...

troll scars are premanent, the tissue it affects will be forever changed.

filament tends to be somewhat adapted to fit where the original tissue was. claws won't grow from random patches of skin etc.

pigment is usually inherited from the scarred individual, but on rare occasions it may spontaneously "pick up" on local bird species pigmentation like basilisks do in development (as baby)

metamorfum acid burns heal very fast - a large area can heal in about as little as a month. but that's just for the "superficial" healing, and it will appear like a normal burn scar at first until it'll slowly start to grow the new filaments or the tissue will appear to "change".

basilisk acid burns rarely ever go deeper than the skin because it stops being active fast after exiting the basilisk body.

many basilisk cultures are hesitant about interspecies relationships (with other sophonts i mean) using hastuik as a justification. interestingly enough, metamorfum accidents don't seem to affect harpies as badly, probably because the two species are related, so there's usually less of a hesitation in regards to those relationships. it may vary however from community to community

hastuik is a basilisk term (well among scandinavian basilisks) which often refers to these scars but also in other contexts and is also a combination of two words - "hastu", which is also a family suffix (used for chicks before they pick their name), whose meanings include young/youth, chick and naiveté, while "ik" can be translated to foolishness/stubbornness (specfically with the connotation that it is unreasonable). calling another basilisk hastuik is basically calling them naive/childish in a derogatory sense since the term is kind of obsolete for them anyway (the acid burns heal normally for them)

[sirenedeslily]

it’s late—so late, almost 3 a.m., and you’re both wrapped up in the stillness of a room where candlelight flickers shadows onto the walls. the low, warm glow casts an amber haze over everything, painting you both in soft, melted hues. outside, the world sleeps, leaving only the soft, steady hum of the record player filling the room, the quiet strum of guitar notes tracing through the silence like a whisper. the song is slow, thick with longing, and you feel it sinking into your bones, the way music sometimes does when the night is soft, and time stretches out like it’ll last forever.

matt’s sitting close, so close that you can see the delicate lines of ink woven across his arms, intricate designs that tell a thousand quiet stories. his tattoos blend into the soft shadows of his skin, his arm resting around your shoulders, fingers tracing light patterns down your back, almost absentmindedly, as though he can’t help but touch you. his hair’s messy, soft like he’s been running his hands through it all night. those blue eyes catch yours, and he smiles, just a little crookedly, like he’s been waiting for this moment all his life.

“you know,” he murmurs, voice low and gentle, a kind of reverence in it that you’ve only ever heard him use with you, “i could stay like this forever. just—us, right here.”

you can feel his breath, warm against your cheek, and his lips brush yours in a way that’s barely there, so light that it feels like he’s memorizing every tiny moment. he cups your face, his thumb tracing slow circles along your cheek as if you’re something precious, something he’d never want to let go of.

“you’re so perfect, you know that? like, how is it possible that i get to have you like this?”

his words are soft, sincere, threaded with that slight rasp in his voice that you adore. he keeps kissing you, slow and unhurried, like he’s got all the time in the world. each kiss feels like a promise—like he’s trying to tell you all the things he feels but can’t put into words. and you know him well enough to understand it; every kiss speaks volumes, a silent confession of all the love he holds in that heart of his.

between kisses, he pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, eyes half-lidded, the faintest smile on his lips. his fingers brush through your hair, and he chuckles, low and warm.

“god, i love this,” he whispers, voice barely audible, almost like he’s speaking to himself. “i love you.” his hand moves to cup the back of your neck, pulling you in, his lips finding yours again. it’s gentle, yet there’s something deep and unyielding behind it, a kind of desperation like he’s scared this might all be a dream.

the song shifts, the guitar fading into a soft, distant refrain, and for a second, you’re both quiet, breathing in sync as you hold each other. the world could be crumbling around you, but here, with matt, it feels like nothing else matters. the room’s filled with the scent of autumn—clove, cinnamon, a faint hint of something woody. he pulls you closer, his arm tight around your waist, his lips pressed against your temple.

“can i just…keep kissing you?” he whispers, almost like he’s asking permission, and you feel the smile pull at your lips.

“matt,” you say, and he leans back just enough to look at you, blue eyes catching the candlelight. “you don’t have to ask, honey.”

a smile breaks across his face, a bit bashful, and he shakes his head. “just—you don’t know what you do to me.” his fingers brush over your jaw, tracing every line, and he presses another lingering kiss to your lips, softer this time, more tender. you lose yourself in him, feeling his warmth, his steady heartbeat, and the way his touch seems to melt away everything else in the world.

as the song fades, the room slips into silence, and he just keeps holding you, keeps kissing you like you’re the only thing that matters. it’s simple, beautiful, and as you both sink into that quiet, you realize you don’t need anything else. just him, just this moment, and the way he makes you feel like forever might just be real.

𝒢𝜚 💭 ࣪ ✸ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ∿ lil comfort blurb, i love slow dance by clairo :p

❝ 𝟐𝟐𝟐 ❞ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻, @carvedtits @et6rnalsun @wovenribbons @flouvela @eternaldecisions @elizabebabe @ncm9696

❝ 𝟑𝟑𝟑 ❞ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻, @l34n @sturniolossss @lovingregulusblack @cl1tlover3000 @mattslolita @mattssgf @le4hsblog @brvtall @mattscoquette @chratts-left-ball @jetaimevous @angelesqve @starlace111 @starkeyszn @etherealval @slut4chriss @star-yawnznn @nickmillersn1gf @sturnsmia @tastesousweet

© sirenedeslily

[wonryllis]

✶ I'LL WAIT FOR YOUR LOVE 、park sunghoon.

( now playing ) i don't wanna live forever : i just wanna keep calling your name until you come back home.

FEATURING 𑁍 。 neighbour!sunghoon in the quiet beach town you moved to spend the summer before your residency starts. away from the pressure of the fast moving world, you find peace in his cliche little adventures and unaccounted flirting. loosely based off the movie 'float'. ( archive? )

GENRE & WARNINGS 𑁍 。 "he's super hot, so why not" trope, suggestive! making out kinda pg filtered, fluff, slight angst but ultimately a happy ending. WORDCOUNT — 2200 dot.

╱╱ NIE NOTES, strongly recommend listening to the song!! draft from march >< i hope y'all enjoy it!! & if you do please leave comments & feedbacks it keeps me going! & lastly please reblog!!

SUNGHOON WONDERS IF YOU WERE DESTINED TO FIND HIM IN THAT LITTLE ISLAND HIDDEN AWAY FROM THE WORLD.

"just jump baby, i'll catch you," sunghoon reassures you for the umpteenth time, extending his hands out as he convinces you to jump from your balcony to his. there's hardly much space inbetween yet you're scared, you've never done this before. and you've never felt this way before.

fear and feelings spinning in the air it's like a coming of age movie, a step into adulthood, a plethora of things you have never experienced and a guy you have grown the hots for, to spice it all up.

"trust me, i won't let you fall," his voice is soft and encouraging, albeit a little flirty.

you could walk up to his door at three in the morning and it wouldn't be a problem. no longer teenagers having secret rendezvous, but sunghoon insists on it being this way— because it's fun, because you are here to have fun, and because he's promised to be the one to bring you fun.

the town of st george was quiet, peaceful and mellow, more welcoming than the bustling streets of toronto where the life of your dreams awaited you. every breeze carried the smell of the ocean, tingling your scent glands with each breath you took. it was refreshing and cozy, it felt more home than your home had ever felt. like a calling of the unknown, it felt right to be there, like everything you had ever needed. a break from med school, and a hot neighbour right beside, your balconies barely you two feet away.

since you first arrived at the town, unsure of your decision to ditch your routine life and the prestigious summer internship, every moment felt like a battle against your morals. but when you looked out the window of your aunt's spare room, gazing over the tiny houses and backyards filled with so many stories, spending a few days without a plan seemed a tad bit more tempting than having to brood over the fact that you weren't supposed to be there.

park sunghoon was one of the first people you noticed there. dressed in a tank top, engine oil smeared all over as he fixed his car, in the rusty backyard you could see from the bedroom window. sweaty and sexy, buff and messily pretty, he looked young: made you wonder of his reasons to stay in a town where the average age had to have been at least forty. filled with people who sought refuge and people who looked for solitude, it was not a place for someone with big aspirations and dreams.

someone much like you.

"see it wasn't that hard," sunghoon whispers, arms holding you against him as you carefully place your feet onto his marbled balcony floor, cozy little plants adorning the corners.

he smiles at you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and carressing your cheeks tenderly. you recall the time you were in the pool together, him teaching you how to swim, holding your hands as you paddled for the first time after an entire month of floating and kicking your feet by the side lessons.

feeling the water splash against your skin, feeling his own skin against yours and feeling your breaths mingle into one another as you made out right after. see it wasn't that hard, his words grazing against your lips.

it felt surreal. like you were doing the right thing. like you were right where you were meant to be.

the little bouts of uneasiness of constantly lying to your parents about your whereabouts and your intership, slowly seemed to slip away everytime you were with him.

you never realized how beautiful life was, how beautiful it was to just be happy and do what you feel like in the moment. and being with him taught you just that. he gave you courage to do what you wanted, the courage to face your troubles and the courage to find what made you happy.

“do you wanna go downstairs? i’ll make us lunch—”

“i just really wanna kiss you right now,” sunghoon's words die down in his throat when you throw your hands around his neck, looping them as you get on your tippy toes to press your lips into his.

the arms around your waist tighten and he immediately reciprocates the kiss, moving his lips against yours, slowly at first. savoring the taste of mangoes you just had together less than an hour ago. lazy licks and prolonged nibbles.

you body pushes foward against his, hands moving to the back of your thighs to pull you onto him as his knees hit the edge of his bed. kiss breaking for a split moment when you plop down on the mattress. foreheads touching and gasping for a long breath before diving right back into the kiss.

this time one of his hands grip the back of your head forcing you closer while your hands busy themselves in pushing under his shirt. gliding from his abs to his chest and then attempting to pull it off of him.

“shit baby, my sister's just downstairs—” sunghoon groans, pulling away in a haste to look into your eyes, feeling crazed at the way you seem to crave him. your warm skin brushing against him, the heat radiating through the pants. body pressing into him in all the right ways— wrong ways considering the situation.

“just a little longer please,” you reach forward, grabbing his face and mumbling against his lips before kissing him again. it is like a new found addiction, like a sparkle in a barren dystopia: intense, morish and the grief of having to leave it all behind. despite the obvious desire rolling off your tongue into his, sunghoon can feel the desperation of the situation where time in your hands stands limited.

where love stands limited and where life, stands apart.

goals ingrained in a space between choices that stand at odds, clashing against everything you have ever known, everything you have ever wanted to know.

there's a longing in the kiss you both are hesitant to address, the inevitable waiting for you at the end of the summer. “you are irresistible,” he pants into your mouth, fingers tracing shapes and squeezing the flesh of your thighs. pausing for a brief second and then leaning back in to press a couple more kisses. eyes closed, holding you in a tight hug after. one that sends your heartbeat to him and his to yours like a sync of feelings deep within your souls.

his thumb comes up to skim against your swollen lips as he mumbles,”i wish we met sooner,” biting the inside of his cheek at thought of you no longer being here by the end of the week. it is gonna be one hell of a hell to get back to a life without you. and as selfish as he wants to be, hoping to convince you to stay, sunghoon knows it is not right.

because unlike him, there is a whole different world waiting for you, outside this little island.

“me too.” the chirping of the birds reaches your ears, echoing in the silence of the room, piercing through the barely audible breathing. something that should only seem to calm you but now that you think of it, every place you would hear it, the sound of sunghoon's raspy voice wishing to have met you sooner would ring at the back of your mind.

from meeting the chickens he raised in his backyard to the story of his unavoidable choice to stay. from his lifeguard job at the beach to his early morning swimming lessons at the resident school pool. from helping him clean his old second hand car to kisses in his bedroom after a swim lesson. your summer was filled with things you never imagined to have experienced. a summer filled with genuine feelings. a place filled with happy memories.

a collision of paths so utterly different from one another, a fate weaved to happen: perhaps you and sunghoon were set to walk together, alongside, hand in hand. but perhaps it was just not the time yet.

there were things you wanted to achieve and places you wanted to be at. for now you would only wait with the hope of meeting him next summer.

“i'll come back, next summer,” you whisper, eyes locked with his, the sunlight from the balcony shining against his brown orbs,”i'll wait for you,” he smiles, holding you tighter.

YOU WONDER IF SUNGHOON WAS DESTINED TO MAKE YOU LOVE THIS LIFE, AWAY FROM YOUR PICTURE PERFECT ONE.

“yellow looks beautiful on you,” you are startled by the brush of sunghoon's lips against your earlobe, feeling his breath graze past your cheeks as he mutters, tone soft yet flirty.

you turn around to face him in a giggle, flustered still, even after all the flirting you went through all along summer. your eyes casting down to look at the flowy swimsuit hugging your body, embarrassment and confidence both tug at your heart.

“and the wet look, suits you,” a teasing gaze moves to scan him, arching your brows as you take in the exposed arms,”so well,” he is dressed in his usual tank top and shorts, albeit wet from what you assume, probably one of his lifeguard saves. skin tanned and shining, water dripping down his hair while he looks at you with squinted eyes..a hypnotic look that holds you back from breaking the eye contact.

“can’t believe you are in front of me right now,” he breathes out, taking a step closer in the sand, chest almost touching yours.

“can't believe it either. it's been a year,” your words tune out in a whisper, like a breeze along the shore, one that held so many hopes.

sunghoon's leans forward, his forehead resting against yours as he a mumbles a barely audible ‘yeah’. hands hesitantly coming up to hold your waist and then looping around in a firm grip.

yellow.

sunghoon spent the entire year looking longingly at all the yellows, yearning to catch a glimpse of you in every corner of the town you had been with him. watching the leaves fall in your aunt’s backyard while stealing glimpses at the window you used to stare at him through. the mango trees right across the road, reminding him of the taste of you, lingering at the back of his throat.

it was hard when everywhere he went he could only picture you by his side. it feels unreal to have you in his arms now, to think that once again, summer had come, and with it, it brought you.

perhaps it is love, that makes him crave you. he ponders, watching the sparkles of summer sun in your pretty and addicting eyes. wondering how he was able to survive a year without looking into them and feeling like you'll suck him in. no he has fallen in love, he concludes.

“you came to watch me flex my muscles, didn't you?” sunghoon asks, playing with the ends of your dyed hair, that looked shorter than he remembered. a sly smirk spreading across his lips, before he ducks down to nuzzle into your neck, leaving little open mouthed kisses against your exposed skin.

“you know i love it,” you tease, breath getting heavier and as his kisses get harsher.

“oh yeah? let's see if you actually know how to swim or you were just oogling me last summer,” your beach bag drops to the sand as sunghoon's arms hook behind your knees and he hauls you up in the air, throwing your body over his shoulder as he runs for the water.

tackling you into the waves, twirling you around and kisses along your face. so many unsaid words growing into emotions. squeals and giggles. a moment where you are in the moment, a moment where you are in love.

the bustling city of toronto housed the future you worked hard for, it kept you busy, it kept you passionate. your big aspirations and dreams, everything you had ever wanted, it held them all. you thought maybe, once you return to the life you knew, you'd eventually forget about this silly little island, and your silly little summer fling. you'd move on and chase the goals that had always defined you.

however, it seemed you failed to realize, that perhaps this was not what you wanted but what you needed and it did not have to define you. it could just be that: a silly little place that made you happy.

the town of st geroge was not a place for someone with big aspirations and dreams, someone much like you. but someone much like you was capable of falling in love with a place like that; and you did. you fell in love with that place. and you fell in love with park sunghoon.

TAGLIST ( open ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @nxzz-skz @shawnyle @potato0579 @enhastolemyheart @ro-diaries @aaa-sia @enhabooks @criminalyun @oddracha @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @jayjw16enxp

[hairmetal666]

Eddie stands at the edge of the ruined, stinking field, heart somewhere down by the soles of his feet. He watches the grey vines creep across the rotten earth, bracketing the blackened and split pumpkins.

"This can't be happening again," Steve says next to him. There's nothing in his voice, in his expression.

And Eddie doesn't know what to say because it is happening, the Upside Down is creeping into Hawkins, Vecna defeated or not.

"We have to tell the others," is Eddie's response. He doesn't know how he sounds normal when his heart is breaking, when Steve's blankness is killing him.

They walk back to Eddie's van in heavy silence. He can't read what Steve is thinking and that's--they're not something, not yet, but they spend all their time together and it's right there, under the surface, and--

He always knows what Steve is thinking, now. Can read his face like Tolkien wrote it, no matter what's happening, but right now it's empty, unreadable, unfathomable, untouchable King Steve risen from the grave.

The drive back to Hop's cabin is silent. Eddie doesn't even turn on music, his brain can't take it.

Cars fill the cabin's driveway, everyone in attendance, everyone waiting. On the porch, they hear the TV, the tinny whirr of lightsabers. It all stops when they push open the door, movie paused, conversations broken off, every face turned in their direction.

Neither of them speaks. Looking at all these faces, the kids, Nancy, Jonathan, Robin, Hop and Joyce, the hope and trust, and he can't--he can't.

"Well?" Joyce prompts. She's working a kitchen towel between her fingers.

He nods as Steve says, "it's back."

Eddie expects an outcry, horror, an explosion, but it's quiet. Quiet enough he can hear Steve's soft breaths next to him. Quiet enough he gets to watch as the news hits on each face in the room. It's like a punch every time.

It's so much different from planning the fight against Vecna. There was so much energy, drive, to get it done, to defeat the Upside Down forever. There wasn't silence, not ever, no faces painted with grief. Even when things were at their worst, an undercurrent of hope buoyed the group.

"Are you sure?" It's Nancy who breaks the silence, of course it is.

"It's the tunnels all over again," Steve answers.

"El?" Hopper asks. "Have you--?"

Will and El are looking at each other, Eddie's sure that no one else in the room exists for them.

"We haven't felt anything." El finally says.

"Nothing?" Mike's eyes flick between them.

"Not since Vecna," Will says.

"It's--it feels--" El waves at the back of her neck.

"Blank." Will finishes.

"Blank isn't gone," Erica says.

Dustin hums, eyes distant. "So, it went dormant."

That gets all the kids going, arguing and shouting over each other, and it isn't long before everyone is involved.

Eddie throws himself into it, grateful to be back in a familiar place of planning, discovering what they're up against, fighting. They're at their best like this, all of them, and it takes the edge off the fear eating up his insides.

He doesn't really get a chance to talk to Steve one-on-one, but Eddie's aware of him always, catches the moments in between bickering with Mike and shouting with Dustin and whispering with Robin where he goes distant, empty, just like at the field, just like in the car.

Eventually, everyone trickles home for the night, Hop's cabin emptying until it's just the Byers, Hoppers, and Steve. And since Eddie goes wherever Steve is--

Steve stands at the window in their room, back to Eddie. His shoulders are rigid, and Eddie is--he's scared in a whole new way. Steve is--he's strong, he keeps them together, he. They look to him to be brave, to be the first to jump, and--

"Steve?" Eddie comes up next to him.

His eyes are squeezed shut, fists clenched.

"Sweetheart?"

Steve opens his eyes, tears track down his cheeks. "I don't think I can do this again," he sobs. "I don't think--" He presses his fists to his eyes, like he's trying to force the moisture back inside.

Eddie grabs his wrists, gentle, murmurs, "it's okay, it'll be okay, I've got you."

"How can it be okay?" Steve asks. His face is wrecked and Eddie's heart shatters. "This was supposed to be over, Eddie. We were supposed to be done with fighting, we beat Vecna. So, tell me how it's going to be okay."

He freezes, unsure how to respond. In the end, "you're right," he says. "it's not okay. And I don't want to pretend that it is. It fucking sucks. We did the work already. We shouldn't be right back here like it never happened."

"But we are," Steve sniffles.

"But we are. And you know what?"

"What?"

"We're going to get through this. Just like we did the last time."

"We almost lost you last time, Ed. We almost lost Max. What if--what if--" Steve's eyes fill again. "I can't do this without you," he sobs.

Eddie doesn't hesitate, pulls Steve into his arms, holds him as tight and close as physically possible. "You won't." Eddie soothes. "You won't. I'll be right here with you. I promise."

"How can you know?"

Again, there's only one answer for that. "I don't. But I know I'll never leave your side willingly. None of us would. And I know that we're going to fight--all of us--like we always do."

"How can you have so much hope?" He asks. "After everything?"

"It's hard," he answers. "I'm terrified. But I know I have you, and Robin, and Dustin, and Wayne, and--everyone. We fight for each other, you know?"

"We keep going because we have to," Steve says.

"Yeah, sweetheart. We protect each other and this godforsaken town, no matter how much it sucks."

Steve's laugh is husky and short. "It sucks so much."

"Real trash heap of a place."

"And that's without the alternate dimension and monsters."

"I think we've got a really strong ad campaign for the Hawkins tourism board." The giggle that escapes from Steve is the sweetest thing Eddie's ever heard.

Later, the lights off, Steve pulls him close. "I'm so glad I have you," he whispers, fingers trailing through Eddie's curls. "You give me something to hope for."

[psych0fatal3]

Homcipher characters reaction to a clingy MC [SFW]

Characters - Mr Crawling, Mr Silvair, Mr Gap, Mr Chopped, Mr Scarletella, Mr Hood, Mr Machete, Mr Stitch, Mr Big face

Authors Note - I haven't slept and I'm just finishing this at 07:10 AM Requests - Open !

——————————————————————————————————

☆ Mr Crawling

He is OVER THE MOON. His love language is deffo Physical touch (Along with quality time imo) so he is 100% fine with it. He loves hugging you, holding your hand, patting your head and if you wanna do that to him he's overjoyed by it! He hates being away from you so the fact you don't wanna leave him makes him feel so soft and squishy inside.

☆ Mr Silvair

Now... Personally... Imho... He either thinks you're entertaining and will just constantly play with your emotions OR He gets irritated and ends up killing you... Hard to tell.

☆ Mr Gap

He watches as you constantly poke your head into gaps, vents, bags etc looking for him and will investigate on why you're doing that. Once he finds out you're clingy he gets annoyed. (He secretly loves it though he's cocky asf) He's shocked asf if you try hugging or kissing him, probably just goes completely still like a deer in headlights.

☆ Mr Chopped

Listen... as long as you take him where he wants to go, protect him and keep quiet at time he's fine with it. He likes laying on your chest with a blanket wrapped around him while you play with his hair.

He enjoys having a servant.

☆Mr Scarletella

He is absolutely, entirely, insanely infatuated with you so to know you're clingy and wanna be near him just makes me go absolutely insane inside. He'll tell you that he loves you all day, hug you (in his own way), watch you sleep and will just stare at you 24/7 He loves being with you, he needs your love and affection cause without it he's empty inside.

☆ Mr Hood

Honestly kind of loves it. He enjoys having someone to protect and take care of. He'll wrap his cloak around you to keep you safe and warm. He likes receiving hugs and kisses on his hood and will try return the favour. (that's one awkward kiss)

☆ Mr Machete

He despises it. He'll just throw you across the room to get you to leave him alone or will insult you, attack you etc etc...

Sometimes he thinks you're saying you want to fight him and will just attack you... But hey if you've proven yourself to him he's okay with it on the odd occasion.

☆ Mr Stitch

He gets annoyed at times, like he doesn't mind it but sometimes it just really gets on his nerves.

I mean hey he gets someone to play with so he puts up with it.

☆ Mr Big face

He thinks you're the cutest little pet ever! he'll lift you up, carry you around, give you presents (odd presents) and will take care of you forever and ever! He's massive compared to you but hey you're perfect for eachother.

——————————————————————————————————

[queenk00k]

cupid's lead arrows // rafe cameron

Requested by anon

Request: Hi girl I love your writing 🫶🏻 Can you write about Rafe, who has been Reader’s best friend forever, but secretly has a crush on her? One day, Reader confesses that she’s dating someone, and Rafe does everything he can to break them up.

Summary: You finally get a boyfriend but something, or someone, seems intent on keeping you apart.

Word count: 1.8k

Includes: This is literally all angst sorry

Note: My first Outer Banks fic in over 4 years lol please be kind! I got a little carried away...this lends itself to a part 2, if anyone likes it.

It’s not always a walk in the park when you’re Rafe Cameron’s best friend.

You’ve been inseparable since the first day of high school when you got paired together for a semester long project. Study sessions in the library (well, you would study, and Rafe would flirt with the cute library monitor) turned into after school hangouts at Tannyhill, which turned into hosting parties and heading to college together.

Did you ever have a crush on your best friend? Well fuck, have you seen him?

Not only is he gorgeous but you got to experience a whole different side of Rafe that not everyone got to see, the sweet side – loyal, caring, and pretty soft behind the scenes.

You spent years pining after Rafe, silently and stoically of course, never wanting to ruin your friendship by letting him know how you felt. You figured it was for the best and besides, you had lived through enough of Rafe’s girlfriends to know you weren’t ever going to be his type.

You’ve seen each other’s highest highs and lowest lows which, unfortunately for you both, Rafe seemed to have more than his fair share of. Much to the disappointment of your parents and the shock of your friends, you stuck by Rafe’s side through his drug addiction and his drinking problems and were there to pick up the pieces after his father died. Rafe, in turn, had your back when you had blow up fights with your mother and comforted you when you had problems with your friends.

Now, two years out of college and with Rafe mostly sober, you didn’t think there was anything you two couldn’t handle, nothing you couldn’t face together, nothing that could ever come between you.

Until you started dating Parker.

Rafe seemed happy for you when you first told him, hugging you and telling you he was proud of you for “finally getting some.” He was nice to Parker (by Rafe’s standards, which really meant not going out of his way to intimidate the guy) when you brought him to the beach and introduced them.

But as the weeks went by, you noticed a subtle shift in Rafe’s behaviour. You kept telling yourself you were being paranoid, that there’s no way Rafe could have an issue with Parker. He told you he was happy for you, right? And unlike the last potential boyfriends, Rafe didn’t try to scare him off.

But something was off.

You noticed Rafe was falling back into old habits that scared you. He was drinking more, often double parked at parties, and either loud and belligerent or sulking on his own in a corner.

And then then the incidents began. At first you just thought it was shit luck, but then it just started to feel like the universe was conspiring against you and Parker.

Turns out Rafe was conspiring against you and Parker.

It started when Parker seemingly ghosted you on one of your Friday night dates, leaving you alone and upset at the wharf before Rafe picked you up. Parker swore he had car issues, both his front tires punctured, and you figured that was a reasonable excuse.

Then the night of the annual bonfire, a harmless game of ‘never have I ever’ turned sour when Rafe and Topper kept coming up with the most oddly specific scenarios. Each of them left Parker putting down his fingers, looking sheepishly over at you as your cheeks turned red from embarrassment before you got up and left the circle, Rafe raising a beer bottle to his lips as he watched you intently. He followed after you that night and you melted into his arms, naïvely assuming your best friend was comforting you without an ulterior motive.

And now the worst of all – Topper had cornered you as you were leaving the driving range to ask if you knew Parker was spending time with his ex, and you finally snapped.

“Where did you hear this, Topper? Who told you?”

And because Topper was, above all, really just spineless, you got the answer out of him straight away.

Rafe. At the scene of the crime, three times in a row. What a fucking coincidence.

So, you decided you’d had enough of this bullshit, of Rafe playing games with your relationship, and you drove over to his house, marched up to his front door and banged on it with your fist until he finally opened up.

“Y/N!” he said, looking genuinely excited to see you. “What are you doing here?”

You took a deep breath, willing yourself not to lose your shit just yet, not to get angry until you actually knew the truth.

“Do you like Parker? Do you want me to be with him?”

Rafe blinked at you, his blue eyes narrowing in confusion.

“What? I don’t-”

“Tell me the truth,” you cut in. “I want to hear you say it.”

Rafe stepped over the threshold and gently closed the door behind him, clearing his throat before he answered.

“No. I don’t, and I want you to break up with him,” he said, folding his arms.

You huffed out a humourless laugh.

“Right, well, that’s not going to happen. Thanks a lot,” you say, willing yourself not to cry as you turn around and walk away from your best friend.

“Y/N, please come back. I have my reasons!” Rafe raises his voice as he calls out to you.

“Why do you care so much? Is this some fake chivalrous ‘if I can’t have you, no one can’ bullshit? Just leave me alone, Rafe.” You say as you clamber down the front steps and start walking to your car.

“Because I love you, alright?!” Rafe shouts after you.

You stop, the righteous anger you were feeling only moments before threatening to dissipate into the humid night air. You close your eyes, inhaling deeply before turning around to face your best friend.

Rafe’s breathing heavily, running his hand over his head as if to erase what he just said.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his ring glinting in the moonlight as he chews on his thumb, looking pleadingly at you, willing you to say something, anything. The silence between you feels heavy as your mind races. He’s said it before of course, but it’s usually in jest, or after you help him with something. This feels different, and you know better than to assume it’s not.

“Rafe,” you say, fighting to keep your voice steady. “What are you doing?” You watch him warily as he takes a hesitant step towards you.

“I love you. I’m serious. More than best friends, more than anything we’ve been in the past. I love you and I…I can’t stand to see you with someone else. I can’t let it happen.”

“You have no right-”

“He’s not a good guy, y/n!” Rafe raises his voice again, making you flinch slightly. You scoff at his words, throwing him an incredulous glare.

“Like you can talk, Rafe. I know you – more than anyone else. You’re not exactly in a position to be telling me who’s good for me or not,” you snap.

Rafe huffs, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “Yeah, you got me. I’m not perfect, fine, but I know you and I know you shouldn’t be with Parker. That’s why I-” Rafe stops abruptly, his mouth twisting.

You step closer to him, closing the gap between you. “That’s why you what, Rafe?” Your heart pounds and you’re sure you’re about to have your suspicions confirmed. When Rafe stands there, dumbstruck and silent, you answer for him.

“You’re the one who started that rumour about Parker and his ex, aren’t you?”

Rafe’s silence tells you everything you need to know. You shake your head, not quite believing that your best friend would try and sabotage your relationship like this.

“And the bonfire? That was on purpose, wasn’t it? You got some dirt on Parker and wanted me to know about it.”

Rafe winced. “Well, Topper helped with that one. But seriously, this is all for your own good. I’m trying to protect you!”

You hold your hand up. “Stop. Just stop. How could you do this? Why would you try and break us up like this, just because you’re jealous? Why can’t you just let me be happy? Not to mention, you’ve been hurting me, Rafe! You’re not just hurting Parker; you’re destroying me in the process.”

You’re crying now, feeling betrayed. You had barely noticed but it had started to rain, the droplets mixing with your tears to run mascara down your cheeks. Rafe has the audacity to look concerned and regretful, to move as if to hug you and you shake his arm off before jabbing your index finger into his chest.

“You don’t get to decide what’s best for me, Rafe. You had your chance! For years! Just because you’ve finally fucking woken up doesn’t mean you get to ruin my happiness. And now this bullshit about Parker’s family? That’s low, even for you,” you spit, the brief warmth you felt when Rafe told you he loved you now completely cold.

Rafe shook his head. “No, no, you don’t get it! That’s all true! They’re shady fucking people and God, that’s coming from a Cameron. You can’t get caught up in their mess,” he pleads.

“You must be out of your goddamn mind if you think I’m going to believe you now! Why should I?” you yell before spinning on your heel and stalking down the driveway to your car, being careful to not slip on the pavement.

“Y/N, wait!” Rafe calls and he catches up to you in two long strides, grabbing your wrist with his large hand. His white button-down shirt was almost transparent now and the rain was running in rivers off his nose as he looked down at you.

“Please,” he begs. “Come inside. Let me explain. I love you, y/n, please,” Rafe looks desperate, and you almost pity him before you snap back to reality and remember why you’re so angry.

“I’m going to my boyfriend’s house,” you snarl, tugging your wrist out of his grip. “And if you follow me Rafe, I swear to God, I will never speak to you again.”

With that, you yank open your car door and put the keys in the ignition with shaking hands.

“FUCK!”

As you pull away, you can hear Rafe yelling your name.

You don’t even look in the rearview mirror as you turn out of his street, tires squealing.

[ruinedporcelaindoll]

My life was stolen from me and it’s all my own fault, it was all because of my own karmas. I’m so miserable and I still get terrified when I remember most of the things that some humans made me go through. I’m 23 but feel like a 5 year old when I get flashbacks, I turn to unloved and lonely child, all of a sudden it’s just me and myself only, hiding under that computer desk subbing while looking out that little tiny window. That dirty dirty desk in that dirty house. Those dirty lies and dirty secrets and dirty silly desires of their own. How they destroyed so many people’s lives. when I remember about every part of my life, I cry my eyes out I cry so bad like I relive every dirty thing that Ever happened to me over and over and over again. Such a disgusting unwanted girl I am.

You’re both the same monster just with different characters, not just you two, but all of you five. And I’m like a miserable helpless weak animal who ruined my life trying to find a home in you all. And look I’m still stuck! I got rid of some of you, but I’m stuck with two of you. It has been more than 6 years and I’m still fucking stuck!!! Only because of my weakness. Cause I don’t wanna be alone in my mind and I hate meeting new people, i stayed in the same cycle because of this and I’m terrified that it’s how it’ll always be. What if I live a long life as well as you two? I’m gonna stay this miserable forever then, binding to one you each time. Such a weak disgusting girl. I hate myself.

What if 3 of us are live a long life? That sounds like a nightmare… please just die sooner or leave this country forever. Please I can’t keep living like this for years and years… for the sake of other girls for the sake of everyone, both of you please left this world sooner …

i mourn the person i never got to be

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ 𝕒 𝕘𝕚𝕣𝕝 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕞𝕖 ♡

♡ Pairing: boyfriend!jeongin x girlfriend!chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: fluff/comfort

♡ Summary: Jeongin's the type of boyfriend who never makes you question how much he cares for you. Still, there's one nagging insecurity you haven't been able to move past: Letting him see you naked. Sick of letting your fear get the best of you, you decide that tonight's the night to finally open up to him and it turns out you might've been afraid of nothing all along.

♡ Word Count: 2.1k-ish

♡ Warnings: body insecurities, nudity, a lil making out, mentions of sex, jeongin loves to touch your body, praise, and just all around fluffiness otherwise

♡ A/N: This started out as an anon request but I lost the post for that request (brb crying) so now we have a lil I.N comfort fic that will hopefully make my chubby Jeongin biased babes feel good in their skin cause you totally deserve to.

Moments like these Jeongin wishes could last forever. Between touring, appearances, and studio sessions his schedule’s been brutal lately, leaving him with little to no time to spend with the one girl he treasures most in the world—you. But tonight none of that matters. The world beyond the walls of his apartment doesn’t exist. There’s only him cozied up under a blanket on the couch with you cuddled against his body, your head resting on his chest as you lazily play with the strings of his hoodie.

The room’s dark except for the glow of the television. A movie’s playing but neither of you are truly watching it. His eyes are glued to you, committing to memory how beautiful you are from this angle. You seem so comfortable in his arms, so at peace, and the feeling’s infinitely mutual. 

Your own gaze is fixed on the screen but every image and sound you take in is passive. What you’re truly focused on is a thought that’s been cycling through your brain all night. Before you left to head over here you told your roommate not to wait up, you’d be spending the night at Jeongin’s place. Never one to pass up the opportunity to tease you, she asked if you needed to borrow a sweater or something to sleep in. You instantly regretted admitting to her over drinks that Jeongin has yet to see you naked, even after months of being together.

Whenever you have sex you keep the lights off and throw your clothes back on immediately after. If you shower and he’s around you always make sure to bring your clothes with you into the bathroom. Even Jeongin, who never wears anything to bed, always has something on when you sleep over to make you more comfortable. 

It’s nothing he’s ever complained about or tried to make you feel guilty for. More than anything he just seems happy to be with you, accepting your boundaries without hesitation. It’s one of a million reasons you’ve come to love him as much as you do. Still, you know that hiding from him isn’t something you can do forever. It isn’t something that you want to do forever.

“Baby” he says sweetly, petting your cheek, “You ready for bed?”

You take a deep breath, making up your mind that tonight’s the night. Your stomach sinks at the thought of how he might feel when he sees your body but at least you’ll know now before you fall for him any harder.

“Mmhmm” you nod, nuzzling your cheek against his chest one last time before sitting up. 

Jeongin hops up and gets to work clearing the snacks from the coffee table. With full hands, he leans down to plant the softest kiss on your lips. “You can go ahead. I’ll meet you in there in a second, okay?” 

You agree and gather the blanket in your arms, trembling as you shuffle down the hall towards the bedroom. It’s a short walk but it feels eternal. You’ve stepped through this threshold a dozen times by now but somehow this feels like your first. Suddenly the oversized hoodie and baggy sweatpants that once shielded your insecurities have you sweating like a sinner in church. It’s suffocating.

Tossing the blanket onto the bed, you tug your hoodie off to feel the fresh air kiss your skin. The coolness eases the tension in your body, leaving your hands a bit less shaky as you slip your sweatpants down and kick them aside. You stare down at your body, taking in the sight of your bare legs and your fluffy thighs that are just barely visible in the long t-shirt you’re wearing.

Your chest tightens as you pinch the bottom of your shirt, lifting the fabric little by little. It slides above your thighs, around the contours of your hips, revealing the panties you chose specifically for tonight. They’re silk, rose pink, with a lace trim and a delicate bow in the back and they’re the prettiest panties Jeongin’s ever seen simply because you’re wearing them. 

“Did I, uh, miss something?” Jeongin asks, frozen in the doorway.

Usually when he walks into the room you’re already under the covers waiting for cuddles he’s beyond eager to give you. Being met with this is something new entirely and he can’t help the way his heart races at the sight of it. You turn to find him staring at you wide eyed, shock painting his face. 

“Well, uh, I…” you stutter, fidgeting with the trim of your shirt, “I know you don’t really like sleeping with your clothes on and the weather’s really nice tonight so I thought, maybe, it’d be nice if we did that.” 

Jeongin closes the distance between you, his shock melting into concern. He brings an arm around your waist, stroking your side as he studies your expression.

“Baby, I already told you I’m cool with our clothes being on. I never want you to do anything you don’t want to.”

You rest your hand on his, soaking in the warmth of his touch. “It’s okay” you insist, immediately picking up on his skepticism. He doesn’t believe you for a second. You stare into his eyes, finding comfort in them even as they narrow in your direction. “I want you to see me, all of me, I don’t wanna be afraid anymore.”

“Afraid? Afraid of what? Did I…”

You cut him off before he can finish, refusing to let him believe for a second that there’s anything he did wrong. “No, Innie, you’re so good to me. It's just…I’m not the smallest girl. Feeling me is one thing but seeing me it’s…it’s…”

Your breath hitches at the sensation of Jeongin’s hands massaging your body. He smooths the plushness of your figure beneath his palms, stopping to squeeze your love handles, your belly, your thighs.

“Seeing you would be a gift” he whispers, his lips hovering near yours. “I’ve felt your body in the dark and I’m already addicted to how beautiful it is. If you take your clothes off or not, nothing will change. I promise.”

There’s no denying the rush that you get from being touched by him. You feel it every time, the impulse to let him tear your clothes off. The longing to feel his gaze dance over your naked body the way his hands do. Typically you fight it, your fears dulling your urges, but tonight you don’t. Instead you sweep him into a kiss laced with passion, guiding his hands to grip the fabric of your shirt. 

“Help me take it off, please” you beg, too cute to deny.

Jeongin nibbles at your bottom lip, “Only if you help me too.”

“Deal” you giggle as he steals your breath away, hungrily pulling you back into the kiss.

Your clothes are shed gently and slowly like the petals of a flower. One after the other, his and then yours. All the while Jeongin’s lips are drawn to yours like magnets. Every break he has to take is a small form of torture. You could kiss him every second of every day and it wouldn’t be enough. He needs to drown in it.

He can only bring himself to stop when he feels skin to skin contact. Your naked body’s pressed to his in the bright lighting of his room. He could see you if he wanted to, glance down and delight in the pleasure of something he’s only experienced in his imagination, but instead he focuses on your gorgeous face, his heart set on making sure this is what you really want.

“Can I look?” he asks, fingertips lightly trailing up and down your spine. 

You pause, pacing yourself for a decision you know you can’t turn back from, “It’s okay. You can look.” 

Time seems to stand still as Jeongin takes a step back and his gaze falls below your shoulders where your naked body awaits in all its vulnerability. His is the smooth, toned body that you already know it to be. You’ve caught glimpses of it here and there when he’s changed in front of you. And yours is beyond what he’d imagined during those long nights spent blindly exploring your form beneath the sheets.

At first he says nothing, does nothing. He only stares straight ahead, scanning you from head to toe. But just as the nervousness threatens to return he cracks a smile, his face lighting up, stars twinkling in his eyes.

“You’re beautiful.” He exhales the words as naturally as he breathes. 

You blush, a giggle escaping your lips, “Oh my gosh, stop it.”

“Stop it? How can I? Look at you.” 

Your self doubt wants to tell you that he’s lying—that these words you never imagined you’d hear couldn’t possibly be true—but you can’t deny the way Jeongin’s looking at you or the butterflies swarming your stomach. You try to bring your arms around yourself, a thoughtless attempt at hiding away again, but he grabs your hands, lacing his fingers between yours. 

“I mean it” he whispers, thumbs lightly grazing your skin, “Your body’s gorgeous and I feel lucky that you let me lay eyes on it. Thank you.” 

Your cheeks heat up and you dip your head down, too flustered by his words to maintain eye contact. Jeongin cups your cheek, tilting your head back up. He’s stubborn as always, refusing to let you escape his affection. 

“You think so too, don't you?” he asks, his lips floating back to yours. He almost kisses you, just almost, but lets his lips dance there, teasing you with their warmth. 

“Think what? I don’t…” you begin to speak but the feeling of his hands making contact with your belly steals away what was coming next. You let out the softest breath, bordering on a hushed moan. His touch always sets your soul on fire but this time there’s something different about it. Some new aspect of it that has your head all fuzzy and your knees going weak. 

“Think that I should feel lucky that I get to see you” he says, massaging the plush of your belly, “And grateful that I get to touch you.” 

He glides his palms down to your hips, taking indulgent handfuls of your curves as your body gives into his touch. Your fingertips run up his arm, feeling the ridges of his muscles as they flex with every breath. His body shivers, your quiet praise doing to him exactly what his does to you.

“You can’t say things like that, Innie.” 

“Why can’t I?”

“Because I might start believing it.”

Jeongin flashes you that dimpled smile, “Good. I want you to.” 

His lips collide with yours again and it feels like the whole room’s spinning because it is. He closes his arms around your waist, kissing you lovingly as he twirls you towards the bed. Before you know it your head’s resting on a pillow as your body sinks into the softness of the mattress. You can’t tell if it’s the mattress or the euphoria of Jeongin’s tongue tangled with yours but it’s like you’re floating on a cloud.

Jeongin kisses you like it’s the last time your lips will ever meet. His hands explore your body like they’re terrified to forget even the tiniest detail of what you feel like. The affection he pours into you is overwhelming yet you wouldn’t dare ask him to stop.

He saw you, everything about you, and the only place he ran to was your arms. You feel special, cherished in every way for exactly who you are. All your worries seem like nothing more than silly little things in the presence of his adoration. 

Finally breaking from the kiss, the necessity for air forcing your lips apart, Jeongin curls up beside you, keeping you in his arms as he slips a blanket over your naked bodies. You rest your head on his chest the same way you did on the couch, only now your mind isn’t wandering off somewhere far away. It’s right here with him, basking in the moment. 

“Promise not to hide from me anymore” he sighs, planting the sweetest kiss on your forehead. 

You relax into his arms, smiling as your heavy lids fall shut, “I promise.” 

You thought you’d feel more vulnerable lying beside him with your clothes in a pile on the floor but being like this with him is the safest you’ve ever felt, the most comfortable you’ve ever felt, in your own skin. Hide from him? And miss out on a feeling like this? Never again.

[piastrisun]

unexpected confession.

pairings: lando norris + fem reader.

summary: as the elevator stalls, so does your composure. lando’s sudden, earnest words turn the trapped moment into a delicate dance between panic and possibility.

genre: fluff.⠀word count: 1k.⠀ warning: none.

notes: lando’s birthday!!! a bit short but i hope y’all like it. <3 no use of y/n or any names at all.

you and lando are standing in the elevator, the air uncomfortably still, and the space around you both feels too small. the elevator’s hum seems louder now, echoing in the confined space. the flickering light above does little to calm the rising tension between you two, as your body instinctively shifts to press against the corner.

you’ve never thought much about how close you are to each other—how every small movement feels amplified in this moment. it's as if your very proximity makes the silence heavier. your mind races, trying to distract itself from the fact that you're alone in an elevator, stuck for what feels like forever. it should be mundane, but with lando here, everything suddenly feels too intense.

and then, he breaks the stillness, his voice barely above a whisper but loud enough to shake you out of your thoughts. "i don’t want to die without telling you this."

your heart skips a beat, and a chill runs down your spine. the sudden panic floods you, and you whip your head to face him, your eyes wide, your breath catching in your throat. “what?! what are you talking about? are we—are we dying?”

his face goes pale as he stammers, looking more flustered than you've ever seen him. his hands hover over the elevator buttons as though he can fix the situation with the press of a few keys. “no! no, of course not… well, i mean, i don’t think so. but listen, it’s important.” he avoids your gaze, the nervous energy practically crackling between you.

you let out a shaky, almost panicked laugh, trying to control the rapid beat of your heart. “lando, this is not the time for dramatic confessions! you’re freaking me out!”

he shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes dart around the elevator. you can tell he’s struggling to keep it together, his body stiff with the weight of whatever he's about to say. “i love you. i always have. and i’m sorry for not saying it sooner.”

you freeze, your body going rigid. the words land with such weight that you can’t process them fast enough. your jaw falls open, and your mouth feels dry as you blink a few times, as if trying to clear the fog in your brain. "wait, what? you love me? you’ve… always loved me?" you can’t quite wrap your mind around it, your voice coming out in a whisper, disbelief taking over. your hands tremble, and your heart is pounding so hard you swear he can hear it. "are you—are you serious right now? do you think we’re going to die in this elevator?"

“no! no, i don’t think we’re dying! i mean, not right now.” lando sighs dramatically, dropping his shoulders in exasperation as he leans back against the elevator wall, seemingly giving up on fixing anything. “but… look, i just needed to say it, okay? i didn’t want to leave with it unsaid. so, if we do die, well… at least you know.”

his words hang in the air like a strange confession, one that doesn't quite make sense given the circumstances. but even then, a knot of warmth stirs in your chest, a strange mix of emotions you’re not ready to confront.

you step back, crossing your arms tightly over your chest as if trying to shield yourself from what’s happening. you narrow your eyes at him, your lips curling into a teasing frown. “so, this is your plan? we get stuck in an elevator for five minutes and suddenly you’ve decided to unload your feelings?”

he groans, his face turning an even deeper shade of red. he slumps against the wall, letting out a breath like he's trying to deflate from the awkwardness. “this wasn’t exactly the moment i planned, okay? but i’ve been holding it in for years, and if you do kill me with that glare, at least i’ll go knowing i said it.”

you bite back a smile, your eyes narrowing in mock judgment. you raise an eyebrow as you lean toward him. “glare? i’m just trying to process this. you’ve have fancied me all this time, and you never said anything?”

his shoulders tense, and he rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze as if searching for some way to escape. “i wasn’t sure if you felt the same. i thought maybe you’d think i was, i don’t know, creepy or something.” his voice cracks slightly, a nervous chuckle escaping him. he looks down at his shoes, his embarrassment clear. “but now here we are. stuck in this tiny box together, one awkward cough away from the end of our lives…”

you can’t help but laugh, the sound light and a little shaky as you step forward, your lips curling into a playful smirk. “well, lucky for you, i don’t think you’re creepy. and maybe… just maybe… i’ve had a few feelings too.”

his eyes widen, his mouth slightly agape, disbelief written all over his face. his voice falters for a moment, but it’s full of hope. “wait, what?!”

you laugh softly, the playful edge to your voice not masking the sudden warmth in your chest. "you think i’m just going to throw myself at you after you drop that bomb? i’m not that easy, lando."

his eyes light up, his expression shifting from surprise to sheer delight. he takes a step closer, his grin impossibly wide as he leans in, his voice filled with teasing excitement. “oh, really? because if we do get stuck here a little longer, i can think of a few ways to pass the time…” his gaze flickers down to your lips before meeting your eyes again, mischievous and full of playful challenge.

you roll your eyes dramatically, trying to maintain some semblance of control over your emotions, but the smile you can’t hide betrays you. "you’re unbelievable."

lando shrugs, his grin growing even wider as he leans back, arms crossing in mock defense. his eyes dance with a mix of humor and genuine affection. "i do try."

©⠀piastrisun original work. please don’t translate, claim or repost any of my writing, 24’.

[oliversrarebooks]

Human Resistance: Pair Bond

tw: mind control, drugging, kidnapping, brainwashing

Masterlist

You are obedient.

"I am obedient."

Zach felt so warm and drowsy, his cot so much softer than it normally was, almost like the sleep-pod that he tried so hard not to remember. Something was gently stroking his hair, making him feel calm and peaceful. Even better, there were strong arms wrapped around him, keeping him secure. He really didn't want to open his heavy eyes, but there was something nagging at him, something he needed to do.

You are docile.

"I am docile."

Yes. He felt docile in a way he shouldn't be. Docile was what the enemy wanted, he'd been reminded so many times. He had to fight. He had to lead.

But somehow, right now, it felt like it was all going to be okay.

A little tug in his mind tried to alert him that there was someone else there, someone mumbling those words near his ear. Someone familiar. Zach opened his eyes just enough to see his second-in-command and sworn friend Jesse, lying there in a daze.

Jesse looked utterly relaxed, in a way that Zach had rarely seen him, certainly not since Zach had been "rescued" and so much responsibility had fallen on his shoulders. He tried not to show it, but he was always worrying about the resistance. He had so many things on his mind at all times, from upcoming missions to dwindling supplies to shoring up defenses. It was nice to see him relaxed.

At least, until he remembered why Jesse was so relaxed.

You will comply.

"I will comply," said Jesse in a slow, sleepy mumble.

Zach remembered, once more, that he'd been captured, along with Jesse. He remembered why they'd both been captured -- that Jesse had insisted on coming along on his near-suicide mission for supplies, Zach's way of atoning for the mess he'd left behind and then brought back. It was his fault that Jesse had been captured, and this time…

This time, he knew there would be no going back, not for him. The detox and deprogramming, the surgery to remove the collar from his neck, the nightmares and hallucinations and the feeling like he was going out of his mind -- it was barely successful the first time, and there was no way he'd be able to deal with it again, if the remnants of the resistance even bothered to try. If the aliens got their hooks in him, and it sure seemed like they already had, it would be over for him. He'd be a pet forever.

And the fact that he was torn between horror and relief only sealed his conviction that he was done for.

Jesse was curled up in his arms, just as Zach was curled up in maddeningly familiar tentacles, deep under their spell and saying their mantras, already so lost. Zach wondered what would become of him. Would he be a pet, a servant, a worker? Would they ever see each other again? He'd often seen former resistance members in the pet care areas, but for many, he had no idea where they were.

All Zach knew for sure was that he'd failed Jesse, failed the entire human resistance. He hadn't won them their freedom as he had promised so many times. All he'd done was delay their servitude.

Jesse had trusted him, even after everything, and Zach had failed to save him, and now he was theirs.

Maybe he'll be better this way, happier.

That was the alien programming intruding into his mind again, so easily now that he was floating in the residual effects of a dose of their mind-bending venom. Zach's hard fight to pull himself out of the brainwashing was eroding so quickly, like a sandcastle in the waves. Maybe a sandcastle was all it had ever been.

The aliens didn't seem to mind as he stirred and shifted to get a better look out of one of the windows, perhaps correctly deciding that Zach was no threat. They were in one of the small transport crafts with about a dozen other aliens and a handful of other captured humans, all dazed and dreamy.

He should fight. He should try to rescue these people. But he knew that all it would earn him is a stronger dose of sedatives. He could tell himself that he was holding back, waiting for an opening, even though he knew the opening would never actually come.

One of the enormous colony ships was gradually coming into view over the horizon. All of the colony ships had differences in size and structure, and Zach recognized this one easily. He'd seen it out the window many times when going on trips with his Superior. It was home.

No, not home. It was the colony ship where he'd been imprisoned. They were taking him back there.

Were they returning him to his Superior? Would his Superior even want him back, after his "rescue", or was he too much of a liability, damaged goods? As much as he dreaded the idea of being turned back into a helpless pet, the thought of being discarded by his Superior still hurt. There was a part of him that still wanted to see his owner again, a part of him that the deprogramming had never totally rooted out.

Zach's mind couldn't help but drift to memories of his time as a pet. The plentiful, fresh food in the cafeteria, as much as he could ever want. The warm and comfortable sleep pod in his owner's chamber, lulling him into a gentle slumber with no nightmares. The days spent lounging on the ship deck with no responsibilities, doing enrichment puzzles or watching videos of far-off planets.

It made him want to give up so badly, and that scared him. He had to do something about it. He had to do something, anything, before he was lost forever to himself.

He had to…

…he had to comply…

He tried to shake his head free of the compulsion that consumed him, but it was already buried deep. The aliens had put him under his grasp, and it was already too late. He struggled in his mind, fought with everything he had, to pull himself free of the tentacles surrounding him. If he could get free, if he could surprise them, maybe he could get to the controls of the transport ship and do something. Even ejecting out over the ocean would give him a better chance of his mind surviving than if he let them take him into the colony ship.

He had to do it, not just for himself, but for Jesse. It was all his fault Jesse was going to be a pet too.

With everything he had, Zach forced his arms to move, pushing against the tentacle holding him fast.

It didn't even budge.

Both his muscles and his mind gave out from the effort, and he collapsed back into the alien's grip, his last hope quenched. It was over.

Just a few moments later, while Zach was stewing in his failure, the transport ship docked and the door at the back opened up, the aliens picking up their human captives.

"What… what's going on…?" said Jesse as he was stirred, still out of it.

"We're at the colony ship," said Zach.

"Colony ship…!"

Zach could see Jesse's face contort as he went through the familiar routine of trying to struggle and fight and realizing that you can't, because you need to comply. Jesse's arms and legs flailed uselessly, weak, as both he and Zach were taken to the exit.

"Ugh, why can't I…" said Jesse in utter frustration.

"Because we're already under their control," said Zach. It was too late, and he didn't know how he'd be able to tell Jesse that. Maybe Jesse could keep his fire, resist in ways that Zach couldn't manage. Maybe he'd be the one to break out. At any rate, Zach owed it to him to help him however he could, as long as he was able. Depending on where the aliens took them, they might not ever see each other again after this day.

The docking area of the colony ship was enormous, the size of a football stadium, filled with ships of all sizes, aliens, and human workers and pets. The transport ship they'd just arrived on was immediately swarmed by a group of human maintenance workers with cheery smiles on their faces. Zach wondered who they used to be, if they were actually happy working on alien ships.

Maybe they were. Maybe their old jobs were worse than what they had now. Maybe they didn't even need to be brainwashed -- although the aliens would brainwash them anyway.

Zach's thoughts were pulled out of orbit by something both startling and familiar, terrifying and comforting. Something he would recognize anywhere.

It was his Superior.

He couldn't really recognize his owner by sight -- whatever physical differences there were with the aliens, they were generally too subtle for humans to notice -- but he could tell from the presence. Zach could feel the anticipation, too. His owner was waiting here, eager for his pet to be returned, and Zach had only moments left before he was turned back into a pet for good. Revulsion and resistance warred in his mind with that treacherous desire for comfort, and in a daze, he tried once more to push away from the tentacles holding him.

And then a familiar eye bloomed before him, filled with patterns that instantly subdued him, and the fight was over.

Zach's body went limp and lax as he was handed over to his Superior, the familiar rhythm of its thoughts lulling him into a stupor. He was home.

Little one, said the voice in his head. You will comply.

"I will comply," Zach repeated with no hesitation.

His Superior was turning him over in its arms, and Zach could feel himself being examined. Where is your collar?

"They removed it from me," he said, eager for his Superior to know that it wasn't his choice. "They did surgery on me without my consent and took it." Somewhere behind him, he could hear Jesse's sharp intake of breath.

His Superior didn't respond, and the steady waves of its thoughts indicated that it was considering what Zach had said. Tentacles wrapped around his body as he was directed to look into its hypnotic eye once more, losing himself in its depths.

You're in my command. You will tell the truth.

Zach's eyes were wide, his mind open and absorbing. "I will tell the truth."

Why didn't you return to me when commanded?

"I tried," he said. All of the suffering of his rescue and rehabilitation was flooding his mind, and he knew his Superior could read it from him. "My friends at the human resistance restrained and drugged me. They removed my collar and tried to undo all of my training. They were just trying to help me. They don't understand."

For a long moment, his Superior was quiet, thinking once more. Are you currently harmed? You must report to me if there is a problem.

"No. I'm just tired and hungry."

Your pet seems to be in fair condition. One of the aliens who had captured Zach was chiming in. The capture was clean and easy.

Even in his daze, Zach bristled a bit at the notion that his capture was easy. He should've been better than that.

Good. I will send my pet for recollaring, and then to the infirmary for examination. It will require reconditioning.

Zach could almost laugh. He was being collared again, just like that, after all of the pain and effort involved with deprogramming him, the dangerous surgery they'd performed on him to get the alien collar out of his spine. He could've died or been paralyzed, and it was all for nothing, undone so easily.

His Superior was taking him back. It believed that Zach had been taken against his will, and it seemed like he wasn't even being punished for it. He was finally going home.

Even as Zach let himself sink into his Superior's hold, he heard a muffled cry behind him. Jesse was still being held by the aliens who had captured Zach, flailing more than ever in an effort to free himself.

"It's all right, Jesse. You're going to be okay," said Zach, hoping to comfort his second-in-command even while feeling the sting of separation. Unless Jesse remained in this same region of the colony ship, this might be the last time they saw each other.

These two humans may be pair bonded, said one of the aliens who had captured them. They provided touch for each other while resting in the transport ship. It was endearing.

Humans are social creatures, added the alien holding Jesse. They do best in groups of two to four.

Jesse stopped struggling, looking at Zach expectantly as he realized what was happening. Hope rose in Zach's chest. If his Superior could be convinced to take Jesse as well, then Jesse would be guaranteed a good owner and a comfortable life. Zach had failed to protect Jesse, but this way, he could help ease him into this new world.

It has been considered before, his Superior responded. I was reluctant to acquire any additional pet. I have an unusually large amount of work and responsibility. I doubt I have time to care for two humans.

Before Zach could open his mouth in a possibly futile attempt to convince his Superior, even knowing how little the opinion of a pet was worth, the alien carrying Jesse spoke up again. I own three human pets. It is just as easy to take care of two as one. They spend time entertaining and caring for each other.

This little one does require frequent enrichment. His Superior was deliberating over the decision, waves of thought rolling through Zach like music. Your assessment may be correct.

They will both need conditioning. They could take their conditioning together. It is often easier that way. Your old pet can guide your new pet. The alien holding Jesse moved closer, and Zach could see the mix of fear and expectation in Jesse's eyes. I could give you this little one now, and report that it has been acquired.

Zach and Jesse were both holding their breath, staring at each other, their fates out of their hands.

After what seemed like an eternity, his Superior responded. That is acceptable. I will take them both to be collared. It took Jesse in its arms and placed him right next to Zach.

Zach breathed a sigh of relief as they were carried through the docking station. At least Jesse was safe. "Are you okay?" he whispered, knowing his Superior could hear him and read his thoughts regardless.

"No, I'm not okay," Jesse hissed back. "I've been captured by the enemy, they keep putting the whammy on my brain, and I'm about to be turned into a pet." He took a ragged breath. "But I'm glad they didn't separate us."

"Me too." He couldn't deny anything that Jesse had said, but the worry kept slipping through his mind, impossible to hold onto. He was home.

"What happens now? Am I going to be this thing's pet?"

"Our Superior," Zach corrected reflexively, ignoring Jesse's look of disgust. "Yeah, I think so. I think it's taking you to be its pet, too."

"It's taking us to be collared, Zach, you heard it! You can't just let them collar you again! And they're going to collar me, and then I'll be -- I'll be --"

Zach knew what Jesse was thinking. He could only imagine how pathetic he had looked in the infirmary, crying and trying to escape, with one of the alien enslavement collars beaming commands straight into his brain. It had been far less humiliating when he was on the ship and everyone around him had one, but he knew that would be cold comfort.

He didn't get a chance to comfort Jesse, though, because his Superior had apparently had enough of his new pet's panic. Tentacles gripped Jesse tighter as several hypnotic eyes opened in front of his face, and within seconds, Jesse was wide-eyed and entranced. Be still and calm, his Superior commanded, and Jesse nodded.

Even though the eyes were't directed at him, Zach couldn't help but look and lose himself a bit, his surroundings settling into blurry calm as his Superior carried them both off.

He only became alert again when they entered a new room, one filled with pods containing dazed humans. It wasn't the huge and bustling processing center Zach had been sent to the first time he was captured, one clearly meant for mass processing of humans. This was much smaller and quieter, one of the usual training rooms.

A pair of aliens stopped his Superior near the entrance, and the group was chatting in their own language. Living in what seemed to be his Superior's combined living quarters and workspace, Zach had become very used to the background noise of alien speech from endless meetings and calls.

His Superior turned Zach over, and he could feel a tentacle prodding at the scar left by the surgery to remove his collar. His calm left him a bit as he was examined. Would this be an issue? He didn't know what they did to humans they couldn't collar, and he didn't want to find out. Maybe his Superior would simply take Jesse as a replacement, a shiny new pet.

After more incomprehensible discussion, one of the aliens took Jesse from his Superior's tentacles. Jesse stirred, and Zach could tell he was trying to break himself free of the hypnotic spell, but he knew how futile it was. Fear rose in his eyes as he was taken to a nearby pod. "No," he said, voice rising. "No, no, no… !"

"It's all right, Jesse," said Zach, trying to channel the voice of confident leadership he used to know so well. "It isn't going to hurt. It'll all be over soon."

"No, you can't let them do this!" Even as he began to struggle, he was placed into the pod and the cover sealed. Through the translucent blue cover, Zach could see Jesse slam his palms against the pod before mechanical appendages grabbed his limbs and held him fast. The thin metal band snapped around his neck, Jesse's eyes going wide, and it was done.

Zach knew what would come next, because he remembered when it had happened to him, strangely vivid compared to other memories of his time being programmed. The conditioning would start, now augmented by a direct line into Jesse's mind, and it wouldn't be long before his thoughts slipped and his mind sank into that comfortable, pleasant haze that Zach knew all too well.

Zach wasn't going to be watching, though, because now his Superior directed him to where the aliens were setting up a different sort of apparatus, a chair that wasn't surrounded by a pod. Zach reflexively looked to his Superior for hope of guidance or an explanation.

There is damage to your neck, his Superior said. It will be corrected. While you are still damaged, you will be given a temporary collar.

"What damage? What needs correcting?" said Zach, recalling his involuntary knee surgery. But that was all his Superior was interested in telling him. He was set down gently in the chair, and a kind of tube encased his left arm. Before Zach could become too worried, one of the other aliens subdued him with its beautiful eyes, and those warm, padded headphones were put on his head. He heard a sort of chime -- the same sound that always occurred at the beginning of the programming -- and Zach was immediately lost to it, sinking limp and loose into the chair.

You are home.

Brief images flashed through Zach's mind of all the places he'd called home in the past. The human resistance base in better days, when it was full of people and enthusiasm and genuine hope of success. The small apartment he'd had back when aliens had been the stuff of sci-fi, with its ratty brown carpets and tiny kitchen and shower that constantly ran out of hot water. His parents' house, when he was a child, full of clutter and the smell of his mom's cooking.

And now, the colony ship was home, with its round corridors and human enrichment stations and windows to the sky.

Something slipped around Zach's wrist, a metal band that felt just like his collar had felt, and when the chimes next sounded, they went straight to his brain.

Masterlist

There's at least one more followup part with Jesse, and then potentially some additional stories. Thanks for reading!

[korrasera]

Like I said, this is a good example. When you're arrogant you tend to think you know everything despite being uninformed about the topic you're talking about. People who are like this also tend to either react really poorly or retreat into their talking points when called on it.

As an example, aside from the fact that Israel isn't a vassal state just being obvious on its face, you can also look at that talking point up there about Biden sending smaller amounts to bypass Congress, which is just straight up not what happened.

It's because people like the above don't understand what the congressional bypass is or how it works.

The US sends aid to Israel every year. Period. We've done it since the country was founded. The power to send that aid, in the form of military sales, is invested in the office of the US president. Congress has a 15 day period to review such sales before they go through. If Congress wants to block the sale, they can pass a joint resolution to do so, but no Congress ever has.

In the case of what Biden did, he didn't choose smaller amounts to bypass Congress, he used a waiver that's also part of his powers to send aid in situations where it's deemed a special case, something Biden did to provide aid to both Israel and Ukraine. If he'd sent smaller amounts of aid he wouldn't have needed the waiver at all because Congress wouldn't even get a chance to review it.

So, as you can see:

These arguments try to convince you of is that Biden is some sort of genocidal cowboy that's bypassing the checks and balances meant to keep deals like this from moving forward. That's not just propaganda, it's not just false, it also demonstrates that the person making the argument doesn't know anything they're talking about.

Also, this aid is the aid that was delayed, by years, by Biden, as a political poker chip.

Oh, sorry Bibi, we approved the aid but you know it's just going to take forever and also why don't you listen to all of the military advisors we sent over telling you that you should stay the hell out of Gaza?

As an example, the last time that I know of where the US did something even remotely like this was when Reagan banned the sale of cluster munitions to Israel because the Israeli government had been using them to strike civilian targets. And apparently even Reagan had a limit.

Is the US complicit in Israel's genocide? Absolutely. Unfortunately, it's just part of being an American. We've been fighting constantly to tear out the authoritarian warmongering parts of our society and this is as far as we've gotten.

Is the US a fascist genocidal state? No, not literally and not figuratively. We are very much a people working to build a better tomorrow, built on unthinkable bloodshed and crimes against humanity.

We have not yet won that fight, but it is absolutely going in our direction, and the work the Biden administration has put in to oppose Netanyahu's government is a sign that it's gotten better. His administration is the first one that's taken meaningful steps to rehabilitate our foreign policy towards Israel.

It really sucks that all of that progress is going to be lost when Trump takes power, but we've been knocked down by setbacks before. We're not done fighting.

Don't listen to propaganda. Don't let people tell you it's hopeless. They're just scared and looking for you to be scared with them.

Be brave instead. Fight.

We tried to warn you, and you wouldn’t listen to us over the sound of your own self-righteousness. You must be so proud of yourselves.

[senmiyaazx]

12 months and 365 days

Crowe x GN!Reader

context: memories of your first year spent in loneliness, and memories of your second year spent with crowe. (aka how you met crowe)

cw: a little self indulgent. mentions of bullying. self deprecating and social anxiety.

word count: 1673

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

It's your first day.

You're very nervous.

Of course, you finished high school before. But college was different.

And you didn't have anyone you knew here.

It's okay. You reassure yourself. You just gotta save up enough money to pay the debt, make a few friends and graduate. It's easy enough, right?

It's... your third day.

You haven't talked to anyone yet.

It's alright. It's only your third day.

You'll be fine.

Besides, there's this cool person you've been sneaking glances at lately. Hopefully you'll build up enough courage to talk to them!

Something gnaws at your nerves.

It's been two weeks.

Two weeks since you came to this city.

Two weeks spent alone at a table in a busy cafeteria. Two weeks of sitting in the corner of the classroom as if you don't exist.

It'll be fine. You can get by with no friends. You just have to pay the debt, and you'll be back home like nothing ever happened.

It's fine.

Three weeks.

You're paired up with someone for a group project.

They're nice. Really nice.

You found out you share a lot of common interests.

They ask to be friends. You accept.

You're really happy.

1 month.

Oh.

They've forgotten about you.

It's okay. You expected it so it didn't hurt much.

It seems they already had an existing friendgroup before you.

It's not your place to be upset. You were strangers after all.

It's okay. Just focus on your job. You'll be home soon.

Five months.

Why don't they ask you for a pen? You're right here.

You have complete school supplies. You always take notes in class.

The person in front of you asks your seatmate for a paper. They don't have one.

You did.

Why don't they ask you?

Why don't you talk to them?

You can't. Because you're too anxious. Scared.

Fear of getting judged.

It's frustrating.

College isn't so fun when you're doing it to save your only home. When you have no friends.

Seven months.

You've gotten used to it.

Sure, you can talk to your group mates just fine. Act friendly and all that stuff. But it never lasted long. Nothing ever did.

It's nothing too concerning now. You accepted the fact you were too much of a coward to just talk and reach out to someone. You're an outcast, and it'll stay that way forever.

Even if your inner self begged to be able to rant about your interests, your hobbies, your troubles.

Two more years of this hell.

Before you knew it, you're in your second year.

First day.

Nothing unusual. You're still alone.

It's boring.

Four more hours till you go home.

Second day.

There's this guy who introduced himself to you.

He seems friendly.

He told you his name, but you forgot. Oh well, it's not important.

Not like you two will be close anyway.

One week.

He keeps talking to you.

You learned his name now. Crowe.

You weren't exactly a jerk either, and it was rude to show your obvious disinterest in someone, so you tried your best to put on a smile as you listened to him.

It's awkward. He's aware of the tension in the air.

You feel bad, but it's okay. Give it a week and he'll move on.

Three weeks.

He. Won't. Leave. You. Alone.

What's wrong with this guy? He keeps acting all buddy with you.

You don't know him. He doesn't know you.

It annoys you how he acts like he does. How friendly he is with you.

You're sure he has some sort of ulterior motive.

Ah, whatever. It's not good to assume. At least you have someone sitting with you at lunch. Even if you're a little irritated.

Four weeks.

You volunteered to be a helper at the school gardens. It's good. Extra credits and a place for you to hang out. Alone.

Now you no longer have to be in the cafeteria.

Five weeks.

He found out about the garden. Keeps pestering you about it.

"Can I join? Can I help? I wanna see! Let's eat lunch there together!" He says.

It's.. so annoying. But you felt bad for him, so you accepted. Grudgingly.

Now you have someone pestering you in your comfort spot. Great.

He tells you he didn't expect you to be interested in gardening. You told him you lived on a farm. He's curious, but you refuse to tell more.

It'll be a waste of time if he'll forget about you in the end anyways.

Two months.

He's still there. He's weirdly persistent on being your friend.

You're starting to doubt yourself now. Had you judged him too much?

Still, it's hard to act friendly now when you've spent an entire year being ignored by everyone on the campus despite your attempts to communicate.

He doesn't seem to mind. You feel weird.

For once, you allow yourself to soften a little around him.

Three months.

It's been a terrible week. Burnout has caught up to you. You're in an incredibly tight budget and you're nowhere near halfway to your debt.

Is there really hope for you? Your father?

Right. You're doing this for dad. The farm.

You can't give up now that you've come so far, yet...

The frustration and stress is too much. He noticed this, of course. He's always so observant when it came to you. Noticing all the little changes and details that nobody else did. Not that anyone else paid much mind to you in the first place.

Still. It's weird. It makes you feel overwhelmed and a little overstimulated.

And it's because of the stress, you think. It's the stress and anxiety that you've been bottling up for years— and ended up lashing out on him.

He's hurt. You know it. You feel incredibly guilty.

You fucked up, didn't you? You always did. Now you lost the only person who actually liked you.

It's all your fault.

Three months and two weeks.

You haven't talked to him since then, despite his attempts to reach you.

You're the first to leave when the bell rings. You lock yourself up in the garden when it's lunchbreak. You dash out the school gates when it's time to go home.

You've seen the way he looks at you. Worry and pain plastered all over his face. It makes your stomach twist. You're guilty. You're aware of how much of a jerk you're being.

But you have no choice. After all, you were born to be lonely.

I'm sorry, Crowe.

Six months.

It's been so long. You're sure he's forgotten about you. Like you expected. It hurts, yet you ignore the pain.

One day, however, you're cornered.

You've always been an outcast. One that's genuinely forgotten by everyone.

Unlucky as you were, you never had to experience bullies in your life.

And now..

One of them pushes your bruised body to the ground. You shake. They laugh at you. Fuck people and their greed for superiority.

You hate it. Hate this. Hate yourself. Why can't you just get up and fight back? Are you really going to let them step over you like this when you're already miserable enough?

C'mon. Get up. Stand up!

Someone yells from a distance. That voice, all too familiar. One that makes your heart drop.

"Crowe?"

It all becomes a blur. You're on the ground, frozen in fear as you watched Crowe take the hits for you. Defending you as if you've known each other for years.

Why? Why would he do this? You don't understand. You don't understand him.

It's so damn annoying.

Slowly, you stand up. There's a rock nearby. You grab it.

And throw it against the bastard's head as hard as you can.

He passes out. His other goons turn around to face you with a murderous glare, and you tremble as they approach.

"One more step and I'll scream so loud everyone will think you're a serial killer." It's a stupid threat. You have no guarantee it'll work.

To your luck, it does. They turn away with a 'tsk' as they pick their friend up. It seems they don't want to cause any more trouble than they already did. Hypocrites.

You immediately turn to face Crowe with a harsh glare, striding towards him despite the pain in your body.

You grab him by the collar, bringing him close to your face as you yelled, confusion and pain evident in your voice. Desperation. "Are you stupid? Why the hell did you do that?! There's literally no reason for you to defend me, so why?!" You shake him back and forth. You shouldn't be doing this. Shouldn't be angry at him when he helped you.

You're just.. so damn lost.

He doesn't mind the way you take your anger out on him when he should. He should be annoyed with you. He should be as mad as you for getting angry when he's the one who helped you.

Instead, he laughs. He fucking laughs.

"Because you're my friend!" He grins stupidly, and you have half a mind to punch him the way those bullies did.

You don't. Instead, you let him go as you felt warmth rush to your cheeks and all over your body. Till your heart aches and leaves a stinging pain in your chest. Till the tips of your fingers tingle and leave your palms sweaty. Till your knees feel weak and you sit down on the ground with your head held in your hands.

"You're.. so annoying, you know that? You're fucking insane." Your voice was shaky. Yet you couldn't help the smile that crept up to your lips.

He stayed. He didn't forget about you.

You have a friend. His name is Jericho Ichabod.

Three years — present.

You're in the greenhouse. Brittney and the others are somewhere in the garden, doing their own thing. You're glad they're enjoying this little space of yours.

Crowe's saying something about flowers. You don't listen much, simply staring at him as you nod and smile.

You have a crush. His name is Jericho Ichabod.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

a/n: i've had this on my mind since the update. unfortunately I don't have any ideas for a sol fic yet:(

[porkcutletbowl44]

A tease.

Keegan P. Russ/reader

NSFW MDNI

tags: mention of Exhibitionism, masturbation, blowjob/handjob, nudity, cum eating, horrendously down bad content

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You're taking forever.

It's like you're doing it on purpose; he had only just gotten back from a long, harsh deployment last night. And now that he has the energy, you've only given him one quick round. It's not how it goes; he's gone months without you and it ended too fast, too early, and you just didn't listen.

His hunger has only grown.

He lets out a deep breath, his mind warring between his growing need and the practicality of the situation.

He needs to get up, to get some air, to do something that isn't just sitting here and being horny, but he's so damn tired and comfortable that he doesn't want to move.

His mind is too full of lewd thoughts about what he wants to do to you.

Damn it, baby... why do you do this to me...?

He lets out a soft laugh, a little huff of amused disbelief, his eyes still focused on the ceiling.

He's starting to suspect that you're really doing it on purpose, that you know what you're doing to him. His mind is racing with thoughts of you, his body responding instantly.

Would you want to just play with it instead? Hold it? Maybe give it come clothes kisses? He gently rubs the head, keeping up some stimulation at the thought.

He lets out a soft moan at the thought of you nuzzling against his clothed cock, his hand squeezing himself just a little.

He's so worked up, his mind still racing with thoughts of you, even though you aren't even in the room. It's like he's addicted, his body yearning for your touch, your scent, your everything.

His mind is swimming with all the different things it would like you to do, to do to him. The things you could do to each other.

He's still too hard, his chest heaving ever so slightly, his breaths coming a little more ragged. He can picture you now, you on your knees in front of him, your hot mouth open for him to slap the underside of his cock head on your tongue.

He's starting to get a little carried away, his thoughts straying from anything practical, but he doesn't really care.

His cock twitches in his hand, getting some attention and a gentle caress, rubbing the head between his thumb and forefinger.

He can't help but give himself a few more slow, deliberate pumps, his hand wrapped loosely around the shaft as he tries to keep himself hard.

He's got an image of you walking in and catching him like this, touching himself while thinking of you…

And he's liking it.

He sneaks his hand under the waist band, gripping with a loose hand.

He lets out a long, quiet groan.

His hand is working a steady rhythm, his mind lost in thoughts of you. The thought of your reaction, if you were to catch him like this; how you'd look, what you'd say, what you'd do.

He gives his cock a little squeeze, trying to keep himself riding the edge of pleasure, trying not to go over.

The door isn't quite closed all the way, so if you were to get close to the room, you'd hear the gentle noises.

"God, you're in trouble when you get back..." he mutters to himself, his hand pumping lightly along his cock.

His breath hitches for a moment as the image of your lips around him flashes through his mind, the way you take him deep and good. His hand starts to pick up the pace a little, getting a little impatient. God, the feel of your hot, wet, tight throat and how it hugs him so nicely, how your hands would rub on his thighs and planes of his firm stomach.

He's still so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't hear you until you speak.

"I was only gone for a few minutes,"

He lets out a hiss of surprise, freezing instantly, his body going tense as soon as he hears your voice. He's immediately embarrassed, his mind going from filthy thoughts to mortified in the span of a second.

He's suddenly acutely aware of the position he's in, his hand in his boxers, his breathing rough and uneven. His eyes widen at being caught, and he turns his head, sheepishly meeting your gaze. his He's so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't hear anything, his hand instinctively flying away from his cock at the surprise audience.

He lets out a dry scoff, his face feeling a little warm at being caught. "Jesus, I didn't even hear you come back…" he says, a little sheepish.

He eyes you for a moment, his eyes quickly scanning your form, your hair, only wearing your panties. Dainty little things, barely covers up anything.

You toss him a bottle, his hand catching it easily with a quiet thanks. He's still a little on edge from being caught, but he manages to catch the bottle on reflex, He's got a small frown on his face, his mind still a little dazed.

He's still trying to process being caught like this, a little embarrassed and a little flustered. He lifts the bottle, twisting off the top and taking a large sip.

He wets his lips a little bit, his throat feeling dry despite having a fresh beverage as he looks at you. He can't find the words to say, his mind still spinning from being caught.

"Couldn't wait?" You tease.

He lets out a huff of embarrassed laughter, his eyes widening at your words. He's caught, and there's no denying it, so he doesn't even try. He can feel the flush of heat spreading over his face, probably turning his cheeks red.

He gives a sheepish shrug, his eyes still fixated on you, drinking in the sight of you perched next to him, wearing only those little panties.

His hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, his eyes darting away from you, trying to regain his composure.

He lets out a quick, nervous laugh, trying to come up with something.

"Just lonely,"

He's trying to act casual, but his voice comes out a lot breathier than he intended. He looks back up at you again, eyes taking mental pictures of the sight, the love of his life.

He means it, it's the damn truth; he is lonely. It's a feeling that he's used to, it's something he's known since childhood, but it's one that he's getting tired of.

He's tired of being alone, of being by himself, of having no one to hold him or share his life with. He's tired of being the one who's always alone, of never having someone who can make him feel less lonely.

He's lonely, and he doesn't like it.

(And yes, 3 minutes is too long without you.)

"Want help?" You offer, rubbing his thigh tenderly.

"Depends on what kinda help you're offering," he replies huskily.

He lets his hand rest on top of yours, feeling the warmth of your skin, the gentle movement of your hand. He lets out a soft hum of pleasure, his eyes flickering shut for a moment, his head rolling back against the pillow as you cup him.

"Quit playing dumb," you grin.

His eyes are closed as he responds, "Me playing dumb? Never."

He bites back a moan, his hips twitching involuntarily, pushing into your touch. His face feels a little warm from being caught, and the fact that you're playing with him isn't helping.

"What do you want?" You coo, sitting on your legs beside him.

His tongue swipes lazily across his lips, his hand coming to rest on your hip, his fingers drumming against the roundness.

His eyes flick up to meet yours, a small smirk on his lips. "What do you think I want, angel?" he rasps.

His other hand comes up to brush gently against your leg, tracing the length of your soft flesh.

He lets out a sigh, his hand rubbing gentle circles on your hip. "I want you," he says, a low, gravelly drawl. "Just you. Always you."

His fingers give a soft, gentle squeeze to your hip, his hand slipping beneath the thin material of your panties, tempted to snap the material on your ass cheek.

You reach the elastic waistband of his boxers, pulling just the tip out to play with your finger tips. He can't help but let out a needy little moan as you pull the elastic, his eyes growing darker, his throat working as he swallows hard. His body is taut with need, his muscles tensed, ready to snap at the slightest provocation.

His hand tightens on your hip, his fingers digging into your skin as he watches your fingers rub over his weeping slit.

"That's cruel," he mumbles.

A fat drop of pre bubbles out, your thumb swiping it up and brought to your lips. His eyes track the movement intently, his breathing growing heavy and uneven. His chest heaves and his fingers flex against your skin, his eyes flicking up to meet yours briefly, his pupils blown black with need.

He gives a guttural moan, his voice coming out a little more shaky and breathless than usual.

"You can't… you can't just do that…" he almost whines.

His hips jerk involuntarily at the sight, his fingers digging into your skin as he watches you lick up his fluids. He can't take his eyes off you, his eyes glued to your mouth as he watches the bead of precum disappear past your lips.

He's desperatly trying to anchor himself against the onslaught of sensation.

He can't think straight, his mind is a jumbled mess of raw desire and primal need. His breathing is becoming labored, his chest heaving as he watches you, his eye dark and intense.

"Holy fuck..." He lets out a ragged breath.

You really were the best girl he could ask for, so shy and polite in public, sweet and soft to him when he comes home... but in private you were his. Warm meals and his balls empty. Perfection.

He loved you all the more for it.

You stroke him a few times, letting him out tall and aching.

"I thought you could go for another round?" You ask in a way that seems innocent, it is anything but.

"Oh, angel... You have no idea how badly I'm going to wreck you this time."

Yet, he makes no move to do so.

He lets out a low, throaty chuckle, his fingers giving your hip another promising squeeze.

His hand starts to slide up along your body, the rough callouses of his fingers scratching over your skin as they move higher. He palms the side of your breast, feeling the give in the squish and the pebbled nipples poking his wrist.

He's already half-gone and you've barely even touched him, but the way you're looking at him, the way you touch him, the way you talk to him, it's almost more than he can take.

He gently pulls you close, slowly manoeuvring you onto his lap. He never takes his eyes off you, his hands gently guiding your hips, taking in the sight of you perched on top of him, straddling his hips, bare and beautiful.

"Gonna make me come like this?" he husks gruffly.

"I can," you offer with a soft purr, squeezing with a stroke upwards.

His eyes flutter shut and a quiet, needy sound escapes his lips. He's so sensitive, so ready and desperate, his hips flexing up in your hand.

All he can do is nod quickly, his head bobbing jerkily as he desperately tries to speak, to let you know what he needs.

Your lips pucker slowly, a fat drop of spit landing with a smack on his cock. The sound that escapes his throat is guttural, a mix of a moan and a breathless gasp. It's loud and rough and needy, a sound he would've been embarrassed to make in any other situation.

But right now, he can't find it in himself to care. Not with you straddling him.

He's torn between wanting to watch and wanting to close his eyes to savor the sensation of your hand moving up and down with your slippery spit, his breath coming in rough, uneven gasps.

He can't help but let out a long, shuddering moan, his body quivering beneath your touch.

"Fuck, you keep doing that and I'm gonna be finished before we even start…" He gasps out, his hand reaching down to lightly grasp your wrist, trying to stop your hand from moving.

"So you can't go another round?" You tease.

"Of course I can, angel."

He (attempts to) rolls his eyes at your question, his expression somewhere between amused and desperately horny. Your squeeze makes him twitch, a sharp breath sucked through his teeth. You're really testing him.

"Oh, I'll go another round," he grits out, his eyes opening to lock onto yours, his eyes dark and intense. "But I need you to slow down before I blow my load right before it even gets good."

He can last more than a few minutes, it's just the softness of your hand that has his resistance washing away with every movement. He'd love nothing more than for you to get him off, but he also doesn’t want to end up looking like some kind of chump who can't even last more than a few minutes when he certainly can.

His hand gently encircles your wrist, stopping your hand as it shallowly pumps over his cock and letting it slap down on his stomach. He lets out a ragged breath, his eyes locking onto yours.

He's in a state of intense, desperate need, his body on the razor-edge of surrender, but he's still fighting against it, fighting to stay in control.

"You always make me lose my damn mind, angel," he mutters hoarsely.

"You're giving me mixed signals here," you rolled your eyes, instead moving your hand down to cup his balls through his boxers.

He's not entirely sure how you managed to pull something like this off so quickly, but right now he's not really surprised. With you, it's usually a 50/50 chance of what you're gonna do next. And he loves it.

"Not mixed signals," he grits out, his jaw clenched tightly. "You gotta give a guy a break here. You're gonna have me coming before we even start."

"Then, what-do-you-want." You pat his knee with every word, raising your brows expectantly.

How is he even supposed to think about that? With you, your tits out in the open, wearing not a stitch of clothing except for those slutty panties, and having his dick wet with your spit?

He lets out a sharp, breathless laugh, his head rolling back against the pillow.

"You have any idea how many thoughts are going through my head right now? How the hell am I supposed to pick just one?" he asks in a low, strained voice.

His head rolls bonelessly against the pillow. It's a damn good question. What does he want right now?

"Then I'll pick for you!" You grin, scooting next to him with your hand on his shaft.

"Oh hell," he groans, his eyes rolling back in his head.

He shivers under your touch, his body so sensitive and on edge. He's barely clinging to any shred of control he has left, his hips rocking against your hand, trying to increase the friction.

"You gonna go easy on me, baby? Or are you just gonna tease me until I lose it…" He complains.

He doesn't need to think about what he wants anymore, it's the same thing he's wanted from the moment he walked in the door.

"You," he says quickly to answer your question, to save himself, "I want you. All of you. On top of me."

"Too late, I wanna watch," you shrug, kissing the hinge of his jaw.

He's already at the end of his rope, his body thrumming with need, his patience at an all-time low. And now you're telling him you want to watch. The idea of you watching him, of him being the center of your attention, it's his extra lucky evening.

You're going to drive him insane this way, and you know it.

He lets out a ragged breath, his head rolling back in resignation, his eyes fixated on the ceiling above him.

"You're playing dirty," he grumbles, his muscles already starting to tense.

"Relax," you murmur, your finger tips are feather light on the underside of his shaft, wrapping around the tip in a slow downstroke.

His breath hisses through his teeth, his body trembling at your touch.

Your fingers are barely touching him, but it's still driving him wild. He's so sensitive, almost too sensitive, every little movement making him shudder with sensation.

"Hard to relax when you're doing that, angel," he mutters, his eyes half-lidded and his jaw clenched.

You shut him up, pressing kisses to his lips. He responds eagerly to each one, his hand coming up to bury itself in your hair, his other finding your breast to knead and push in his hand.

He kisses you hungrily, fiercely, his tongue sliding past your lips and tangling with yours. He lets out a low moan, cock flaring in your hand as you work him.

It's the perfect distraction, kissing you and touching you, his mind occupied with you instead of the intense sensation of your hand around his dick. He breaks the kiss with a ragged breath, his head rolling back to expose his throat, his eyes half-lidded as he stares at you.

The way you're driving him to the edge and holding him there, it's overwhelming. He's fighting against it, fighting to hold on, to make it last just a little bit longer.

"If you don't stop, it's gonna be all over you…" he warns.

You hum, squeezing and twisting your wrist. His hips jerk at the movement, a guttural moan escaping his lips.

Your touch is exquisite, it's almost torturous. He's on the edge, teetering on the brink, and he's never needed something so desperately, you're going to wring him dry and enjoy it.

He can't take it anymore, he has to do something, anything to distract himself.

With a guttural grunt, he shifts his hand, wedging it between your legs to sloppily try and stimulate your clit.

"C'mon, Keegan. Just a little more and I'll put it in my mouth?"

His eye goes wide at your words, his body shuddering, eyes closing again when your thumb brushes the underside of his sensitive head. His hips jerk forward helplessly, his mind going blank for a moment to paint that picture; bent over his lap, your mouth wrapped around his pulsing cock as his spunk spits out in your throat—

"Shhhit," he hisses, heels sliding on the sheets to gain leverage up in your hand. He hums, long and deep like he's in concentration (to not come), "Fuck, fuck, fuck—"

"Can I?" You coo, peppering the sweetest kisses on his cheek bone.

"You don't— You don't even have to ask," he strains, his hand burying itself in your hair and fisting it tight.

You're playing with fire, and you know it.

He's on the edge, and all it's going to take is one little push, one little stroke, one little thought, and that fire is going to burn straight through him, leaving him boneless and satisfied.

And while it seems like you might be willing to wait, he isn't. He needs that release, badly. You've been toying for too long for him to protest that he refuses to get off without you, but you don't seem to care about that right now. His legs flex hard, hips canting shallowly, breathing getting choppy, oh, he's right there—

You shift away; letting him see how you take him in your mouth in just the nick of time. He can feel it the moment your mouth envelops him, hands coming up instinctively to your hair and neck. His head falls back, his eyes closing as he lets out a raw, guttural moan of relief. His hips shallowly thrust, milking every last drop out to your eager mouth. He's boneless, his muscles trembling with fatigue.

He's never felt so satisfied, so completely spent in his life. He can't even find the words to speak, he just slowly opens his eyes to look down at you, his gaze half-lidded and heavy with pleasure.

His hand weakly comes to wrap around your waist, pulling you back up and away from driving him into over sensitivity. He holds you there for a moment, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath, his heart slowly starting to settle down.

After a few minutes, he lets out a tired laugh, rolling onto his side to face you. He's almost smothering you, a weighty arm strapping you to the mattress, to him.

"Fuck me, woman."

"Maybe in a few hours, when you can actually do another round,"

He lets out a mock offended huff at your comment, his hand coming to swat your thigh.

He's still riding in the floaty, boneless state of afterglow, his arms and legs feeling like air. He's exhausted, and you know it. Not that he minds, he'd take this tiredness over being restless any day, and you're certainly to blame. He's completely spent, and there's no way he's going to be able to muster up any kind of resistance anytime soon. He may be a fighter, but you're his Kryptonite.

"You've killed me," he complains, burying his face into your neck making the deep timbre of his voice shake your insides. "I don't think I'm capable of thinking about anything like that right now, woman. The most I can do for now is just lay here,” he mumbles into your skin.

"Okay, how about a nap, some food, and then press resume later on?" You offer, fingers between his shoulder blades in a nice soothing brush.

"Food sounds good. A nap sounds even better," he mutters, his words becoming more and more slurred as the exhaustion really starts to kick in.

He sighs deeply, his breath hot against your skin. That deep, satisfied sigh is of a man who has just had the life sucked out of him.

God, the way you scratch his back how you do, he's convinced you know exactly what you're doing to him. He loves the back scratches, and the head scratches during cuddle sessions, but your tits are in his face and he's still thinking about having your legs folded up to your chest. He's trying to protest, but it just comes out a low, drawn out groan.

"If you keep doing that I'm going to be asking for round two a lot sooner," he grumbles with exhaustion.