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#actually shut up eli
hhave-a-nice-day · 2 years
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i love you clashing patterns i love you colors that don’t go together i love you weird jewelry i love you ugly socks i love you shirts that are too big i love you shorts that are too short i love you dressing like shit on purpose
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confusedhomicidalrage · 2 months
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(I guess) TW!!! This fanfic mentions Suicide, alcohol, and death.
"Joshua?" Eli quietly called out through the seemingly empty house. The stairs creaked as he walked them down, careful not to make too much noise. Eli walked into the living room, but didn't see Joshua at all. He could only see Robert, sitting on the couch, probably passed out, with a few empty alcohol bottles next to him, and the TV running some sort of porn program. Eli looked away from the TV, such adult things always made him uncomfortable, it made him feel filthy just looking at it. The sounds weren't better; just a mess of skin slapping, weird gagging, and lots of moaning that made Eli want to vomit. His eyes went to the empty alcohol bottles, some were knocked over or even broken, others were leaking or just still half full, but they all had one thing in common; they smelt disgusting. It made Eli's nose scrunch up as his hands quickly went to cover his nose and mouth.
He tip-toed past Robert and out of the house, his hands moving back to his sides as he breathed in the, at least better smelling, air. He took a few steps into the cornfields, calling out for Joshua once more.
"Joshua? Joshua, where are you?" ,Eli yelled, his hands moving to push aside the corn stalks and walk through them. However, Eli's eyes soon widened when he smelled a dirty stench that was...like a crime to even be near. Eli's eyes narrowed as he walked into the direction of the stench. A wet sound underneath his shoes made him flinch, looking down at what he stepped in made his eyes go as wide as bowling balls. A thick, dark red, almost brown-ish liquid. Blood.
Eli panicked as he followed the trail of blood, only to freeze when he saw why it was there in the first place. There, in the cornfield, laid Joshua, not moving. His eyes were closed, and he didn't seem to be breathing. Cautiously, Eli walked towards his brother, kneeling down and shaking his arm. "Joshua?...Joshua, wake up...this isn't funny..." ,Eli mumbled quietly, tears prickling his eyes as he shook Joshua rapidly. Then, Eli noticed the large flesh wound across Joshua's chest, with his clothes teared and stained in blood. The wound was bleeding heavily and some flesh seemed to be somewhat pulled out, undoubtedly, it was done by the scythe Robert owned.
Eli knew their Father was a horrible person, abusing the brothers whenever they made a mistake or he got drunk, but to see Joshua lying there...dead...by his Father's hands...it made Eli sick. He had to hold back gags as the tears began falling down his cheeks promptly, his breathing shaky and heavy as he bit his lower lip. Joshua was the one person to protect him, to actually make him feel loved.Eli sobbed, covering his face and pitifully crying into his palms. He couldn't believe this. This was his worst nightmare come true. If Joshua wasn't there, why did Eli wake up everyday? Not even he who Walks behind the rows could bring Eli the same happiness the young boy felt when with his big brother. As Eli removed his hands from his tear-soaked face, he couldn't even breathe normally. His breathing was more similar to desperate gasps of air, shaky and fast. His entire body was trembling like a leaf in a hurricane.
Eli threw himself on the corpse of his beloved brother, sobbing into his unmoving chest. The little one was heartbroken, he felt so much despair and sorrow. If Joshua wasn't there to cheer him up every day, Eli didn't want to continue living the pathetic life he had been living for years now. He didn't even want to attempt to do this without Joshua, he couldn't bear even the mere thought of such a thing. He stood up, and narrowed his eyes. He couldn't let his Father get away with such an act.
"Family is sacred..." Eli whispered as he ran back to the house, not even bothering to try and be quiet now. As he slammed the door open, tears still going down his pale cheeks, Robert woke up, annoyed. But before he could scream at his son, The latter picked up one of the empty bottles and smashed it onto his Father's head. Robert screeched out in pain, holding his bleeding head and frantically trying to remove the glass shards, although it proved futile.
Eli sniffled and grabbed a nearby knife Robert normally kept as a way to abuse Eli and Joshua, which included cutting their skin off or forcefully cutting their hair and ripping it. Eli jumped onto his Father and repeatedly stabbed him into the face, until it was just a mess of blood, flesh and broken bones. Eli took a deep, shaky breath, slowly lowering the knife. He was covered in blood, the carpet was stained. Eli stood up, his legs wobbly and barely able to properly hold him up. He walked out of the house again, and back to where Joshua's dead body was laying. Eli began sobbing the moment he saw it, and fell to his knees.
"Joshua..." ,he choked out between sobs, mourning his dead brother. He couldn't live without him. And so, Eli laid down beside Joshua, and lifted the knife, aligning it with where Eli's heart was located. The young boy stared at Joshua's face, before thrusting the knife into his own chest. Eli yelled out in pain, watching as the blood seeped into his clothing and oozed out of his wound. Eli's arms fell to the side, as his gaze went back to Joshua.
"We'll leave this earth together, Brother..." ,Eli whispered, his eyelids falling as his breathing stopped too. As the two dead brothers laid side by side, their blood mixed on the dirt and mud ground of the cornfield. They would remain together forever, no matter in what way.
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stillness138 · 10 months
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me when th when the music
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tough-n-dumb · 1 year
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Chapter 2—whatever evil I had suffered, I forgot
They begin a new normal—or at least whatever could pass as normal for them. The changes are small, but there. A hand placed on an arm to garner attention and left for longer than needed; a playful elbow jab in retaliation of a quip; their personal space dwindling and becoming decidedly less personal. And each night, they lay side by side, facing the stars or each other with their fingers tangled together. If this is all they ever have, it’s enough. It’s more than enough. 
Eli and Cornelia’s time together riding through Colorado, with Wyoming ahead and Kansas behind. Set between Eli’s rescue and their kiss
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fedoranon · 8 months
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On to the second scene where Sousuke overreacts to a threat that doesn't exist and damn, Full Metal Panic is a psychological horror from his perspective, huh?
An unknown threat that could make their move at any time, and an innocent young girl's life and happiness rests on your shoulders, but she resists at every turn, because you're forbidden to tell her about the threat. A culture completely alien to everything you know, and your tools and comfort objects are constantly confiscated because the authorities around you can't fathom you needing them; after all, this country isn't at war...! Except you know better.
Unlike any other story where my sense of empathy turns a scene that's supposed to be comedic into something heart wrenching, I can still see where it's supposed to be funny. Like Sousuke just grabbed what he thought was a remote weapon and, while scrambling to figure out what to do with it, got hit by a truck and got flung into a bike rack. And then the dude's like, oh thank God, my briefcase full of spaghetti--! It's incredibly slapstick.
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quasieli · 2 years
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Friendly reminder that if you don't personally need an image description, you can ignore it! It costs you 0 time and 0 energy!
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extravagantliar · 1 year
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dates & holidays in thedas
even though there is support for what may be a chantry independent andrastianism religion, I assume that Kirkwall, much like every other major outpost in Thedas, uses the Gregorian System, bought forth by you GUESSED IT, YALL, THE CATHOLIC CHURCH! You all are so good at this.
Every significant human settlement has most likely adjusted to using what I will call the Justinian Calendar. There is a Paragon Calendar there HAS TO BE, much like the Hebrew Calendar. Older families in Tevinter/Orzammar/Par Vollen likely have an Old Style vs Anno Mundi, which, much like me, would have two calendar systems in their home.
Now, Elisa, you say - two calendars? That sounds crazy; you are correct! But in this world, we run on the standard gregorian dating systems. OS and AM are very much things that are ongoing today in this world as I keep track of dates on a Hebrew calendar for holidays and fasts. The old schism caused an orthodox date vs a date here in the west. The Rebbe ( zy” a ) has a birth style in OS and an AM death date. It’s still prevalent. 
So what are you getting at here, Elisa? The Justinian Calendar is a colonial tool, just like the Gregorian calendar. I would love for more folks to cast it aside in DARP. if you need help, I;m here; trust me. 
SO WHY ARE YOU YELLING ABOUT IT?
Well, hold on, because I have to. It’s the 25th of Kislev (December 19th, Elisa.) Varric would hold candle lighting every night in Lowtown during Hanukkah, not because he was religious, but because it’s what his family did. It’s about prevailing.
There is something about post inquisition; it’s not religious clarity but the need to keep the things that matter moving forward while leaving intrusive and colonial tools in the past. 
Varric has two calendars, and he’s a busy man.
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bonespyre · 2 years
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I used to be SO scared of tanking but now it's literally all i do these days
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irrelevaantidiot · 27 days
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I shouldnt trust my damn gut after 9 pm but ima say it now
Ima be the one to say it.
If x person (x is directed but for the sake of shit I'm not saying it here) turns out to be a bad person well, no shit.
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hhave-a-nice-day · 1 year
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feeling like i’m making small talk with the person i consider to be my best friend i’m going to walk into the ocean
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dollfaceksj · 4 months
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still don’t know my name | jjk (m) pt. 3
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➥ banner by: @/archivedkookie.
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➥ PAIRING: jungkook x fem!reader
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➥ GENRE: smut ⋆ cybersex ⋆ enemies
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➥ SUMMARY: In which your annoying neighbor—that you can’t stand—turns out to be the person behind the online account you’ve been sexting. You still don’t know his name.
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➥ CATEGORY: mini three-shot
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➥ WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, spanking, spitting, facefucking, brat taming, face slapping, overstimulation, unprotected sex (THIS IS REALLY DUMB DONT DO IT), creampie, degradation, praise, name calling (slut/bitch 😵‍💫 first time a man calls a woman a bitch in my fics but i felt like it fit in this IDK?) choking, kissing (kind of … pining???!!??) oral sex (m & f rec.), minors DNI
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➥ WORDCOUNT: 8.6k
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a/n: the finale is here😘😘 sorry it took so long! i hope u enjoy nonetheless 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽
make sure to check out eli’s version too!
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⋆ TAGLIST ⋆
⇠ PREV. ⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆ NEXT ⇢
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#3 — “game on” [finale]
There he is, obstructing your view completely.
Considering his raw beauty, one might argue that he is the view.
Arms outstretched above his head, hands resting against the doorframe as he looks down at you. With his arms raised like this, you can smell his deodorant. He smells quite nice.
Looks like he’s caging you. Keeping you trapped. Like the villain in a video game with outstanding graphics. You understand people who have a crush on animated characters because he looks ethereal.
The teasing glint in his eyes matches the mischievous one in yours. Like a dance battle that’s been going on for ages and you’re getting closer and closer to the finale. You can basically taste it.
It’s quiet for a few moments aside from your synced breathing. Neither of you seem to be willing to speak.
That is, until you realize that it’s ass o’clock and time isn’t exactly on your side. The decision to break the ice follows you swiftly. “Do you really have no respect for your fellow tenants?”
Acting like you don’t know why he’s here is the only way you can deal with the pounding muscular organ in your chest. It’s pumping blood to the rest of your body at immense speed, heating up your entire body in the process.
But you asked for this. You asked what the hell he was waiting for.
And it’s clear he was waiting on you.
He tilts his head to the side. Stifles a smirk. Raises an eyebrow. Shrugs his shoulders. He looks so smug. You want to punch him.
He clears his throat and looks around the corridor nonchalantly before he decides to give you an answer. “I have a lot of respect for my fellow tenants, actually. I just don’t see you as one.”
Your eyes pingpong between his from left to right, mesmerized by the big black tapioca pearls above his flushed cheeks that are intently staring you down.
“What do you see me as, then?” you ask, quietly yet as bitchy as you can. Arms crossed over your chest. Impatiently tapping your foot against the floor which creates a ticking sound, much like a clock.
Like he’s losing time and once the clock goes off, it’s game over. So much for a Gameboy.
His tongue peeks out from the corner of his mouth and swipes along his bottom lip, toying with his glistening lip rings for a moment.
If that was an attempt to get you to stare at his lips, he succeeded. Weak!
Staring at his lips throws you into a trance and you really wonder what it would be like to have those pressing down on yours. Shut you up. Make you melt into him.
“Granny. Annoying. Loud-mouth. Obnoxious. Rude,” he lists. Your eyes squint at him but before you can even respond, he cuts you off. “Spoiled brat that needs to be put in her place.”
Never mind.
You want to kill him.
You bring your shoulders up in an unbothered shrug. “Bet you won’t.”
Your witty words make him stare at you for a moment longer before he drops his head and humorlessly chuckles, shaking it in disbelief and bouncing his shoulders at that which he finds humorous.
You know he likes it, though.
He raises his head again. Stares at you. Drops his eyes to your pretty lips. Trails your lipline. Lets his gaze linger on your cupid’s bow. Shifts his eyes back to your feigned innocent eyes.
The simple act of his eyes never leaving you has your body heating up. As if lava is pumping through your veins. As if his body is pressed up right against yours. As if every small move you make is equal to putting a handful of sand in your mouth whilst you’re standing underneath the scorching hot sahara desert sun.
“Are you challenging me?” he asks, voice low as if he’s worried other people will hear him.
Ah.
There it is.
The first between you two to acknowledge what’s really going on.
You figured it’d be him anyway.
Now it’s your turn to acknowledge it.
“Not a challenge,” you answer with a slight shake to your head. “An invitation,” you clarify, mischievous eyes still glued to his figure. Consent comes first, after all.
The staring competition lasts just a little while longer. He then straightens his back and drops his hands from the frame of your door. Wastes no time stepping into your apartment. Shuts the door behind him with his foot.
Or at least that’s what you think because the speed in which he lunges at you makes you unsure of anything happening right now.
The momentum of his lunge at you knocks you back but he’s not letting you get away that easily.
One of his hands rests on the back of your head as his lips press down on yours like two magnets finding solace with each other. Your own hand slithers up his chest, nails digging into his shoulder. Some in the fabric of his shirt, some in his burning skin.
No matter how cool he plays it, he’s burning up much like you are.
He keeps walking, backing you further into your apartment until you’re pressed up against a wall. Trapped. Caged.
His tattooed fingers drape around your neck, pulling you closer to his body, closing the gap. Squeezes your throat like he’s afraid you’re going to somehow vanish into thin air.
He presses his lips down on yours even harder. Rougher. Uses his other hand to squeeze your hip. Grunts against your mouth.
Your other hand travels up his body to his bicep. Rests there. Squeezes. His arm is rock hard.
His lips parting makes you copy him, welcoming his tongue into your mouth. His wet muscle massages against yours, rough and needy. He tastes like mint. Must be his toothpaste.
He slowly starts pushing you towards your room and you assume he knows where it is because it’s the same layout as his apartment.
He pushes you until your calves hit the side of your bed. Makes you fall down. You grip his shirt to pull him down with you. He’s on top of you in no time.
He kisses you like he’s got somewhere to be. Pulls his tongue back just to mumble something. You don’t quite understand.
“Hm?” you hum, encouraging him to repeat himself.
He pulls back. “Safeword,” he mumbles again before pecking your lips once more, eyes glued to your mouth.
You stare at him as he pecks your lips continuously, your eyes so big and doe-like. “Uh…” You’re not sure what kind of a safeword would work. Your mind is blank.
He whispers, “Just say something. Anything.”
Anything?
“Butterfly.”
Butterfly? Really? Couldn’t come up with anything else?
“Butterfly?” he echoes.
“Butterfly,” you repeat.
He nods in confirmation and travels his hand down to your hip, dangerously close to the curve of your ass as he presses his lips against yours again in a hungry kiss.
All he needs is a little push.
You give him the little push.
Your hand reaches for your hip, shoving his palm further down your back until it’s resting on your ass.
You pull back from the kiss this time. “You wanna know my safeword but you still don’t know my name.”
He pinches his brows together. Stares at your lips. Looks like he wants to do nothing more than kiss you for years on end.
He brings his shoulders up in a nonchalant shrug. “I like calling you Angel.”
Ah.
Your own eyes drop down to his lips, black pupils trailing his wide cupid’s bow that’s begging to be kissed. “Thought it didn’t make any sense to you.” Your eyes shoot back up to look him dead in the eye. “You know, because I’m far from being angelic?”
He stares at you for a few seconds. Maybe half a minute. Intense eyes pingpong-ing back and forth between your own as if the answers to what goes on in your brain is written in them.
He slowly starts to nod his head. Scrunches up his nose for a split second before he tears his eyes away from you to stare at the wall in your room, at nothing in particular. It’s only then that you notice that he’s been closing the gap between your bodies and you’re only noticing due to the body heat radiating off of him.
He turns his head back to face you but avoids your eyes. Instead he tilts his head down, presses his lips against your neck in a soft kiss. He licks. Nips. Sucks. “Hm. I quite like contradictions, though,” whispers Gameboy.
You’re not sure what he means by it.
“Contradictions?” you echo as you tilt your head to the side, granting him more access to any skin he desires. You try to keep yourself from moaning but to no avail, so your new goal is to not be embarrassed by your heavy breathing and quiet moaning.
“Hm,” he hums in confirmation. All it does is send a shiver down your spine and makes your thighs clench. “You’re my favorite contradiction. Wanna give you nothing yet everything at the same time.”
You can’t help but roll your eyes dramatically, in hopes that he won’t be able to tell how that confession made your heart drum out of control in your chest. You can’t stand how he always knows what to say to get a reaction out of you.
You inquire, “What’s that even supposed to mean?”
“It means,” he abruptly pauses as he pushes himself off you, resting his ass on his heels. His hands wrap around the back of your knees, adding strength to push them all the way to your chest. Has you almost folded up into a human pretzel.
“Hey, I have joints!” You try to sound angry but you’re barely fighting back. Way to stand your ground.
“It means that I want to fuck the shit out of you but I also don’t want to give you the satisfaction.” He angles his hips in a way that makes his pelvis grind right into yours. It’s hard to ignore the rock hard boner rubbing against your sex and you’ve never hated wearing clothes more than you do at this moment.
“Like so.” He begins to thrust his hips into yours, eyes glued to the way the bulge in his sweatpants rocks against the seam of your leggings that’s located right on top of your pussy.
He starts dry humping you, brows furrowed in concentration. Sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. Finally looks into your eyes. “The only thing a slut like you deserves.”
Oh.
“Don’t you agree?” he whispers, eyes shifting up to yours—finally. Bottom lip still trapped between his teeth and cheeks tinted crimson.
He looks unreal. Ethereal.
A soft moan bubbles up the back of your throat at the sensation and it escapes your mouth before you can catch it.
But his words don’t slip your mind.
You squint your eyes at him. “Fuck you.”
Yeah, sure… that’ll show him.
It happens so fast. You don’t even realize it happened until after your lips have started stinging and a gasp has unintentionally ripped through your throat.
Did he just… slap your mouth?
He did.
Your hooded eyes shoot open and your brows pinch together, unable to ignore the tingle on your lips from the smack he’s left behind on them.
“You think you’re in any position to run your mouth, you stupid brat?” He doesn’t wait for a response from you and simply shoves his thumb past your lips, confident that you’ll happily welcome it.
Unfortunately, you do.
You welcome the tip of his thumb into your mouth, eyes still piercing into his. His eyebrow twitches when you swirl your tongue around it. Gently suck on it. Quietly moan at it.
His eyes stay glued to your face and he can’t seem to decide what he wants to focus on. Your pretty eyes that are lost in his as if you’re the most innocent creature on Earth or your pouty lips that are beautifully wrapped around the tip of his thumb like you’re the sluttiest whore with his dick in your mouth.
Either way, you’re a complete contradiction. How you manage to look so innocent yet so seductive seems like a mystery to him.
One he intends to solve.
He pulls his thumb out of your mouth with a loud pop and places his hands next to each side of your head.
He continues to dry hump you at the same pace but the strength behind his thrusts has changed. He’s snapping his hips so hard into yours that it makes your entire frame jerk from the momentum every time your bodies collide.
He grunts quietly. Shakes his head. “Shit, shit.” His eyes drop down to your lips for a few seconds before back into your eyes. “I need to fuck you.”
Dry humping you for barely 2 minutes and he’s already going back on his word?
You can’t help but provoke him. “I thought you said a slut like me didn’t deserve that? I could be wrong.”
He rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek, deeply contemplating something as his teeth pick at the loose flesh on his lips. After a few more seconds of mindlessly staring at you, he pushes himself off you. He gets up before he straightens his back and hoists you up, pulling you off the bed and onto your feet in one swift move.
He doesn’t even need to ask.
You instantly drop to your knees, eyes staring up at him.
He taps your chin with his finger. “Always running your dumb mouth. You know what happens to stupid girls that don’t know when to shut the hell up?”
Before you can give one of your smartass answers, his hand wraps around your jaw and grips it tightly to make you look up at him. You simply blink at him, as innocently as you can.
“They get their face fucked.”
Oh.
The only way to describe what you’re feeling is what you imagine a hot spear shooting down your core would feel like. Leaves behind a warm tingle pooling in your lower belly.
Your hands don’t waste any time as they travel up his thighs and your thumbs tuck under the waistband of his sweats. You flutter your lashes at him in hopes of getting permission to undress him.
He licks his lips and nods his head, watching you intently as you start tugging his sweats down.
You were right, you know. He really wasn’t wearing any underwear.
As you pull the hem down, the black markings come into view.
Your username.
Fuck.
He really is him.
Your eyes glance up at him and he’s already staring at you.
You tug his sweats further down, only to be almost slapped in the face with his dick. A quiet gasp of surprise escapes your mouth as you eye the view in front of you.
It’s exactly as it is in the videos and pictures he sends you.
You stare at it in awe, mouth already salivating.
He wraps his hand around the shaft and taps the tip of his dick against your lips. “Open.”
In the instance that you part your lips, he shoves his shaft right into your mouth without a single warning whilst cradling the back of your head to keep you still.
He doesn’t seem to care about your poor throat as he starts thrusting into it as if he’s got something to prove to the universe.
Saliva drips down your chin and onto your chest, staining your Power Puff girl shirt with dots of spit. Quiet gags resound in the back of your throat as Gameboy continues to push your head further down his shaft.
“Only fucking way to shut you up, isn’t it?” he grunts, the tip of his dick repeatedly slamming against the back of your throat and soft palette.
After a few more rough thrusts, he pulls out of your mouth and tugs your head back by the roots on your cranium to make you look up at him. You gasp for air, not paying any mind to how messy you must look right now.
He simply leans forwards, eyebrows pinched together as his tapioca pearls scan your face in a matter of milliseconds. “You okay?” he whispers, loosening his grip on your cranium and instead softly stroking it.
You blink in confusion at him. You’ve definitely never heard him sound that gentle when addressing you. Maybe only when addressing Bam.
But you quickly realize he’s genuinely just making sure you’re okay so far and whether you have any trouble with how rough he’s being.
With an eager nod of your assurance, he cockily chuckles. “That’s a good girl, isn’t it?” he slyly says before gathering saliva onto his tongue and spitting it out right on top of yours.
He straightens his back again before shoving his dick right back into your wet mouth. Makes him groan. Curse. Twitch on your tongue.
You happily keep your mouth wide open for him and his pleasure, fluttering your pretty lashes up at him. Your eyes blink back the tears repeatedly, almost like they’re trying to snap a photograph of this moment right now. Wanting to commit it all to memory. Wanting to commit him to memory.
“Fuck,” he grunts, “mouth so fucking good. ‘S why I prefer a brat that doesn’t know when to shut up.” His eyes are instantaneously on yours, black and hungry.
You can imagine, to be honest. All that shit-talking you were doing has brought you here. On your knees. Choking on a wet dick that you’ve been dreaming about.
You don’t think you could be any happier than you are at this moment.
“Gonna spill in your mouth,” he moans, hips never faltering in speed and precision.
Every time you open your eyes, you see your own username in faded black marker, right in front of your nose. Like you’ve been branded on him. Like he’s yours and yours only.
With your chest tightening at the pleasure you’re experiencing by giving him pleasure, the way he slips out of your mouth almost goes unnoticed by you.
He taps his dick against your tongue before reaching for your hand and leading it to his shaft. It takes you a few seconds to realize what he wants. He wants you to jack him off until he cums.
You wrap your hand around his shaft and aim the tip of his angry dick at your open mouth, eager to catch his cum on your tastebuds.
His eyes are staring you down so intently that it almost makes you choke on air. Luckily, you’re not a little bitch. You keep holding onto the eye contact like the little brat you are, though, defiant and stubborn.
He scrunches his nose up. Twitches his lips. Stifles a smirk. “Just like that, Angel.”
You keep your mouth open, tongue poking out past your lips. A slight shift on your knees makes you hyper aware of the wetness pooling in your panties.
Shit, you’re really turned on.
“Fuck,” he whispers, “gonna cum.” It doesn’t take long after for his dick to start twitching in your hand. Even less when ropes of his cum start shooting out of his dick, loud groans accompanying the wet sounds your hand makes whilst sliding up and down his soaking shaft.
More curses spill from his lips, eyes trying so hard to stay open and watch himself cum all over your tongue and chin.
With your head tilted and a shit-eating grin on your lips, you continue to milk him of every single drop until he squirms from the overstimulation.
You drop your hand from his shaft and bring your other hand to wipe your chin free of the saliva mixed with cum. His semen glides down your esophagus with a big gulp.
“Shit.” He throws his head back and runs his hands through his black locks. “Didn’t think I’d cum that fast.”
His eyes trail back to you, taking in the way you’re elegantly sitting on your knees, ass perked up on the back of your feet.
“I suppose you really are just all talk,” you quip, a smug grin tugging on the corner of your lips.
The goosebumps on the upper layer of your skin make an appearance when his hand wraps around your throat and squeezes it once. Twice. He bends over. Presses his lips to yours in a quick kiss. Messy. Hungry.
His tattooed hand abandons your throat to hoist you up by your biceps. He starts pushing you towards your bed until you fall back, cranium sinking into your soft pillows.
He rids himself of his tank top and yanks it across your room, not caring where it ends up before diving into your bed with you. Your thighs spread on their own accord, ready to let Gameboy do whatever he wishes.
His tongue makes an appearance as he swipes it along his bottom lip, eyeing the seam in your leggings. It makes his lip rings flick up. Makes your leggings more damp than they already are.
The slightest bit of pressure against your clothed pussy makes you jerk your hips up into his knuckles, the ones he was using to rub up and down your sex.
“You’ve soaked through your leggings,” he comments. “Got that wet from letting me use your dumb mouth, did you?”
His eyes flicker up to yours, the pad of his thumb still rubbing up and down your sex. You suppose he’s checking to see if you’re going to be a smartass about it or not.
You are.
“I got that wet from the thought of you ruining me and fucking me until I’m stupid like you said you would, but in all honesty, I think I might be falling asleep.”
Well.
The simple exhale that leaves his nostrils can only be described as a quick snort as his hand abandons your pussy in its time of need. You’re a second away from whining about it but Gameboy is quicker than you.
Tucks his fingers under the hem of your leggings. Yanks them down your legs. Doesn’t care that he tore the inseam of your leggings.
“Hey! You’re buying me a new pair!” You don’t really care that he tore them, you have a stockpile of these leggings that you could clothe a whole village with. You just want to be annoying.
He simply raises his finger to his lips, wordlessly telling you to be quiet.
“Wha–”
“Shh.” Shushes you. Eyes closed. Lips pursed. Brows pinched.
You lie there, confused. Legs spread. The only thing covering your attention-seeking pussy is the pathetic cotton panties that, by now, have completely been soaked by your arousal.
When you take another breath to speak up, he brings his palm down.
Smack!
“Ow!” Your hips jerk up off the bed once his palm comes in contact with your poor pussy.
Either you’re trippin’ off the hardest acid right now or he actually just spanked your vagina.
“I told you to be quiet.”
It simply earns him a glare but that doesn’t matter to him. The corners of his lips curl up and before you know it, his head dives down your body.
But what you don’t expect is his hands wrapping around the back of your knees and pulling you downwards so your back lies flat on the mattress as he settles in between your thighs, mouth pressed against the sticky fabric of your panties.
You’re barely able to get out a moan before he starts sucking on your sex through your panties, his eyes closed in concentration. He nudges your clit with his round nose. Does it again when you let out a moan that’s sweeter than the bottom of a bag of candy.
He pulls away which almost makes you whine but you clamp your mouth shut when he tucks his fingers under the hem of your panties. Glances at you through his brows.
You keep your bottom lip trapped between your teeth as he slowly starts sliding your panties down your legs, his eyes instantly glued to the faded black markings on your pelvis which spells out his username.
He tosses your panties aside and spreads your thighs by your knees again. His black irises stay glued to your soaking wet pussy, tongue darting out to wet his lips.
“Even prettier than I remember.” He lowers himself again. Wastes no time attacking your swollen clit with his angry tongue.
You reach for his hair, gently tugging on it with your fingers to pull him closer to where you want him. He obeys, burying himself in your sex with his entire face. Shakes his head to give you extra friction. Nudges your clit with his nose.
Your hips involuntarily jerk upwards but it doesn’t phase him in the slightest. He just continues to suck and lick at your pussy like a man starved.
Lying under him now is surreal. After all those months of talking to him, it’s hard to believe you’re in this position right now.
What’s even harder to believe is that he’s here.
That it’s him.
Him, of all people.
Your rude neighbor with a lack of manners and decency.
But for some reason, this makes it even more… satisfying?
He drags you out of your thoughts when he wraps his lips around your clit and pushes two of his fingers into you, creating gushing sounds that only further embarrass you.
He slurps, sucks, nips, licks. Looks up at you. Winks. Smirks.
The cold metal of his lip rings against your hot skin makes a shiver travel up your spine. Summons goosebumps on the upper layer of your skin. He notices. It makes him chuckle. The air from his exhale fans over your pussy. Gets you excited and whiny all over again.
“Shit, you taste way too good for a brat.” He uses both his thumbs to gently spread your folds apart to take in the beauty that is your soaking sex before pressing a soft kiss to your hole and shoving his tongue inside.
“F–fuck!” you cry out as he starts fucking his tongue in and out of you, nose nudging your clit and one thumb circling the rim of your asshole. It makes the all too familiar knot in your stomach slowly form.
“I’m gonna,” you pause, “cum.”
He doesn’t seem to care, though.
Because right as the knot threatens to snap, Gameboy pulls away. Stares you down as your arousal drips off his chin. He wipes his mouth and chin with the back of his hand. The nonchalance he exudes while he does so makes you glare at him.
At least, to the best of your abilities, that is.
You’re a bit fucked out. Can’t feel your toes and your ears are ringing.
“Sluts like you don’t deserve to cum so quick,” murmurs Gameboy as he starts tugging at the hem of your shirt, the only fabric that still covers your body.
“But Jay!” you whine but he simply cuts you off by spanking your poor pussy again. You cry out. Your body jerks. It makes him huff in arrogance.
He adds, “Shut up and do as I say for once.”
You angrily huff as you yank the shirt off and toss it aside, somewhere on the floor near the pile of clothes. This allows your breasts to bounce free and his eyes are almost bursting out of their sockets as he takes the sight in.
His hands reach over your chest before his eyes peek up at yours, waiting for any sign of approval or permission. You reach out to his hands and bring them down to your breasts, wordlessly telling him there’s nothing more you’d want than this.
Even though he just came, he’s already sporting a semi hard-on from eating you out. The moment his hands grope your breasts, a soft groan leaves his throat. He can’t seem to stop staring at them. “Holy shit,” he mumbles, continuing to grope and massage them.
He gently pinches your nipples. Leans down and takes one into his mouth. Sucks with as much fervor as he can muster.
Several moans spill from your lips as he continues and the inflating dick against your thigh doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You hate to admit it but it boosts your ego to the max.
You hate it because men will fuck a hole in a tree. They get turned on by anything. But in this moment, you know that Gameboy wants you as bad as you want him and you can’t wait until he finally does what he came here to do.
“Fuck me,” you whimper, “fuck me, please.”
He raises his head, letting go of your breast with a loud pop as he stares you down. “Oh, wow. Where’s all that attitude? You finally starting to fall off your high horse?” He sounds so full of mockery when he says these things but you don’t care anymore.
If he doesn’t fuck you this instance you might die.
“No, bozo. I’m waiting to see what you’ve got in store. It seems like you keep delaying it because you can’t back your talk,” you reply almost right away.
Almost as soon as the words leave your lips, he slaps you on the mouth again. This time with a little more force that makes your lips tingle with a stinging sensation.
It makes you gasp. Not in surprise but in bliss. You only run your mouth to have him put you in your place. It’s too good of a feeling to know that you can get under his skin like this.
He stares at you with a look in his eyes that you can only describe as a combination of disbelief and amusement. “You’ve always got something to say, don’t you?” he mumbles as he reaches for his pants and rummages through its pockets before returning his attention to you.
You stare at the golden item in his hands. A condom.
Ain’t nobody got time for that.
You don’t even hesitate when you reach out, snatch it out of his hands and toss it to the floor.
It’s almost like he expected you to do that when his chest rumbles as he chuckles. You glance at him with such a desperate look in your eye and you think this time it might’ve worked.
Because he slowly pushes your thighs back and uses one hand to position his already hard dick by your pussy, rubbing it up and down your disgustingly soaked slit.
“You’ve got me dripping with precum, I hope you know that,” he quietly says. Slaps his dick onto your slit a few times. Moves it to the side as he purses his lips to let a drop of his saliva drop down onto your pussy, watching it dribble down your folds. “Fuck.”
Your teeth sink down into your bottom lip as you watch him go to work, the perfect view in front of you. You can see his concentrated face, his glorious body and your own pussy seconds away from a good pounding.
“Ready?” he whispers, eyes shooting up to yours and they’ve got the same twinkle as when he asked whether you were okay during the throatfucking.
You quickly nod and look back down at your sexes, eagerly waiting for him to finally push into you.
And he does.
He slowly starts to enter you, hips moving at a pace that makes you want to scream your head off.
You’re impatient but you know it’s best for your own good.
“Fuck. So fuckin’ tight,” he whispers as he pushes even more until he’s filled you up completely. Your walls uncomfortably stretch around him but you simply welcome the burn as you reach out to his shoulders and pull him closer to you.
He closes the gap between you two and instantly connects his lips to yours, kissing you so roughly that it takes you by surprise considering how gentle his lower body is treating yours.
After a few more seconds of making out, which ultimately helped you relax, you tap his shoulder and mumble the word “move” against his lips.
He hears you loud and clear.
Slowly starts rocking his hips into yours and it makes you moan into his mouth. He simply swallows your moans, licking into your mouth to steal every single sound you make.
You wrap your legs around his waist in hopes of pulling him even closer to you. Your hands cup his face as you slowly pull away from the kiss to look into his eyes.
He returns the eye contact whilst his hips increase in speed and power.
“Do you have other girls?” you manage to ask in between thrusts, eyes still boring into his. You’re not sure why you’re asking him this but you also can’t help but ask.
He stares you down in silence for a few moments before pulling away and straightening his back. He pulls out of you and pushes all the way back in as he holds your thighs apart.
“I have a bunch.” He starts thrusting into you with such speed that it makes your entire body jerk from the momentum, giving him a perfect view of your bouncing breasts. “How about you focus on being my favorite?”
Oh.
That’s all it takes to shut you up as he starts rubbing your clit with one thumb, trying to get you to the edge before he robs you of your orgasm again.
Not to mention the speed at which he fucks you in is borderline animalistic.
Damn. You must’ve really pissed him off.
He drills so deep into you that the sensation in your lower gut is indescribable. You subconsciously stretch out your arm, pressing your hand flat into his lower abdomen in hopes of getting him to slow down.
It means nothing to him, though.
He continues to pound into you, ignoring your hand begging for mercy as he grunts quietly. “Fuckin’ hate how beautiful you are, Angel.”
Clench.
“You like that, huh?” he huffs, one hand wrapping around the back of your thigh and the other slapping your hand away from his stomach. Gives you no choice but to take the pounding like a good girl. “Tightening around me like you’re trying to squeeze my fuckin’ dick off.”
All you can do is fight the moan that’s sliding up your esophagus as you bite into the back of your hand in hopes of swallowing your moans, eyes tightly shut to concentrate.
But he doesn’t like that.
His hand comes down on your jaw in a firm tap. “Look at me.”
You crack your eyelids open just to be blessed with the view of him and his hair sticking to his forehead from the thin layer of sweat it has produced.
“That all you got?” you taunt, referring to the soft slap he delivered to your face just now, if it even can be called that.
He stares at you with a slight squint in his eyes before he chuckles and this time, puts more force behind his slap.
Your face jerks to the side and your cheek tingles from the faint pain. It makes you clench around his shaft in pure ecstasy.
But then it all happens really fast.
He pulls out of you and in one motion, you’re on your stomach. By the time you look over your shoulder, Gameboy has positioned himself onto your ass before pushing into your gushing pussy from behind.
Lying flat on your stomach with your legs pressed together only makes him rub up against your walls even more, allowing you to feel and be able to map out all the veins and ridges on his dick.
The warmth that fans over your ear only suggests that he’s right next to your face, breathing heavily down your neck and collarbones.
“Where’d all that shit talking go?” he whispers quietly, lips pressed against the shell of your ear as his inked hand wraps around your throat from behind.
You try to answer but to no avail, the speed and power he uses to fuck you with has you sounding incoherent and absolutely stupid.
“Look at you now, all fucked out,” he adds, the shit-eating smirk present in his tone.
You slightly turn your head to be able to look at him, brows furrowed together and your mouth dropped open.
His eyes shift to your face and wander all over your desperate features before settling on your eyes again. “God,” whispers Gameboy quietly. “Gonna be the death of me, you are.”
He always knows what to say.
Every.
Single.
Time.
“Kiss me,” you manage to let out without sounding choked.
His eyes slowly drop to your round, pouty lips that shape into an ‘o’. “What’s the magic word, Angel?”
He’s so damn annoying.
“Please,” you say, without hesitation. “Please, kiss me.”
It takes no more than a second before your request has been fulfilled. His pretty lips press onto yours and he wastes no time sneaking his tongue into your mouth.
You continue to moan in desperation and pleasure, allowing him to swallow every last sound that escapes your mouth.
After several moments of kissing, it’s only then that you realize he’s no longer thrusting but instead he’s simply nestled deep inside of you and all his focus is on kissing you.
When you pull away from the kiss, it seems like he, too, realizes this. Clears his throat. Hoists himself up.
To your surprise, he yanks your ass up into the air by your hips and presses his hand flat down on your upper back to keep your face down and ass up.
With your burning face buried in the sheets, all you can focus on is your sense of touch and hearing.
A glob of saliva drops onto your pussy. He rubs it in with his dick before slapping it a few times and easing himself in again.
Your back arches from the sensation as you listen to the beautiful, quiet moans spilling from his lips. Makes you realize that his voice box deserves an award. Or a national holiday. You bet he could be famous if he intended to do anything with his voice.
But the moment is flipped onto its head when Gameboy starts thrusting into you like there’s no tomorrow. Like he’s got something to prove to the universe. Like he’s finally getting his long awaited revenge.
Which he is.
And this is precisely what you wanted when you provoked him all those times.
A loud smack rings in your ears and a sharp sting spreading through your asscheek follows right away, earning a cry from you. He spanks you again. And again. And again.
His other hand sneaks around your hip and furiously starts rubbing at your clit, involuntarily making you clench around his shaft that is forcing it’s way into you repeatedly.
“Fuck’s sake,” he grunts as he rocks his hips into yours and watches your bum recoil against him with each thrust.
The stimulation is starting to wear you out. Droplets of sweat roll down your back like shining pearls and your heart pounds in your chest like a drum at a parade.
You reach behind you to press your hand into his lower abdomen again in hopes of being granted his mercy but this time he doesn’t hesitate. He wraps his hand around your wrist and pins it against your lower back.
“Running your fucking mouth and now you think I’ll take it easy on you? Isn’t this what you wanted?” he scoffs as he uses his other hand to grip your hip to smoothly pound into you. “Shut the fuck up and take this pounding like you’re my bitch.”
Oh.
You wish you could rebuttal, you wish you could insult him, say something, anything.
But all that’s leaving your mouth are pathetic moans and cries as your stomach starts tightening and your walls start clenching around him.
“Ah, you liked that, didn’t you? So filthy.” He lets go of your hip and reaches around to start rubbing circles onto your clit again as you shiver and squirm under him. “Just how I like it.”
You can’t even for the words to tell him that you’re seconds away from cumming but it seems like he understands nonetheless because he’s simply shushing you and adding quick “I know, baby”s in a low voice.
Just when you think he’s granting you your much needed orgasm, he abruptly turns you over on your back. Before you have any idea on what’s going on, he has wiggled himself in between your thighs and entered you once again, leaving you no space to even catch your breath.
“Jay–”
“I wanna see your face when you cum,” he tells you as he reaches for your clit to help you reach your orgasm. “You’re so fucking lucky it’s like 3AM. I would’ve fucking edged you for hours on end.”
Ah. Damn it.
You quickly nod your head with your eyes focused on your sex being pummeled. “Fuck, fuck. Please,” you whimper, squirming under his frame which only makes him chuckle.
“Beg, baby,” is all he says.
Fuck.
“Please,” you say, “please, please, please.”
You don’t even know what exactly it is you’re begging for but he knows. He knows because he keeps nodding, has one hand groping your bouncing breast while the other stimulates your clit just the way you like it.
Your stomach soon tightens and it makes the words stutter in your throat. You can’t even make a coherent sentence but all he does is nod his head in understanding.
“You’re creaming all over my shit, you know that?” he groans as he stares at his own dick sliding in and out of your pussy, focusing on all the arousal you’re leaving behind on his shaft like a trail.
“Shit,” you cry as your thighs start to clench and your core starts to burst into flames. Your frame completely shudders under him. The moans and whimpers spilling from your lips are loud yet soft and the feeling is indescribable.
You tightly squeeze your eyes shut as the orgasm washes over your tired body, making you see all the celestial bodies in the universe on the back of your eyelids.
All your nerve endings are set alight and every single hair on your body stands up straight, like a soldier at attention.
His thumb on your clit never falters in speed and precision and his hand has returned to your thigh, firmly holding it in place as he fucks you through your much needed orgasm.
Your chest inflates and deflates dramatically, trying to catch your breath which constantly seems just a millisecond away every time.
He keeps going though, his stamina proving to be S tier.
Clenching all around him and finally reaching your orgasm has his hips slightly stuttering in their rhythm, his dick twitching inside of you. “Fuck. Where do you want it?”
You blink back your tears as you gather your energy to prop yourself up on your elbows. You stare straight at him as he awaits a response.
“I want it all inside.”
That’s all he needs, really.
“I’m cumming soon,” he grunts, unable to steady his heavy breathing like he has up until this point. “Pussy so fuckin’ good, Angel.”
His thrusts are sloppy and imprecise but that just makes him that much hotter. You flick your tongue up on the pad of your thumb and bring it to his nipple as you slightly tease it, rolling the erect nub around under your finger.
His breathing only gets heavier and you’re not helping his case when you continue to clench around him like you’re trying to milk him of every last drop he has to offer.
You are.
“Fuck,” is all he says before dropping his head into the crook of your neck and giving a few powerful thrusts before ropes of his warm cum shoot into you and paint your walls. A loud groan leaving his mouth is cut short when he presses his lips against yours, giving you a heated kiss as he unloads inside of you.
There’s so much cum that a good amount of it spurts out of you with every single thrust he gives you. He quietly moans against your lips when the final drop shoots out of him and straight into you, which only makes you moan back.
Fuck. You really just got creampied by the man whose guts you hate and vice versa. Sexual tension is a bitch.
He continues to kiss you, though, gentle and exhausted like he’s got nowhere to be and only wants to kiss you for hours on end.
You don’t know why but you welcome it with open arms. Wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. Tilt your head slightly to deepen the kiss.
The makeout session lasts longer than either of you expected.
Not that anyone is complaining.
Then, you two finally break apart and gasp for air.
He slowly, very slowly pulls out of you. He wraps his hand around your leg to lift it a bit higher up in the air and stares at your ruined sex with his teeth sunken into his bottom lip.
You lie there, staring at him with a quirk in your brow as he gently rubs your inner thighs with his thumb.
It’s quiet.
Really quiet.
Is the post-nut-clarity making him regret everything?
You don’t exactly know how to feel. You don’t regret it. It felt good. You haven’t felt that way in a long time.
Right when you begin to overthink, he asks, “Was I too rough on you?”
You blink at him a few times before shaking your head. “You were perfect.”
The compliment makes the corners of his lips curl up and finally makes his eyes shift to yours. You hadn’t noticed he was avoiding your gaze.
He glances at you for a few moments before springing up from the bed and sliding his sweats back onto his legs. You glare at him from across the room and watch as he exits your room.
You stare at the ceiling in silence. What just happened?
Was this a one time thing? Well, to be fair, you were planning on inviting him to stay an entire week but that was before you even knew who he was.
He’s back a few moments later with a damp towel and approaches you on your bed, gently wiping you clean of his cum. “You should go pee.”
You squint your eyes at him in suspicion but quickly let it go as he’s focused on cleaning you up. “Oh, so, you do have manners after all?”
His eyes immediately shoot up at yours and his hand comes to a halt. When he sees the bratty look on your face, he simply chuckles and shakes his head before returning his attention to your poor sex.
“Can’t fuckin’ stand you,” he mumbles but can’t seem to hide the smile threatening to creep on his lips.
It makes your own lips curl up into a soft smile. “As long as you continue to fuck me like you just did, you don’t have to be able to stand me.”
He uses a dry spot on the towel to dry your skin down a bit before glancing into your eyes. “You intend on doing this again?”
This makes you frown. Makes your heart sink into your stomach. Makes you slowly close your legs and cross your arms over your chest. You don’t know why. Is it shame? Regret? Humiliation? “You don’t?” you ask him, voice suddenly sounding small and uncertain. You hate it.
“100% but I wasn’t sure whether you’d be on board with that.” He gets up from your bed and hands you your underwear. “I thought you’d want to take out your frustrations once and then have it be done with.”
When he sees you not moving, he takes it upon himself to slide your panties onto your legs. Makes you hoist your hips off the bed. Slides them right into place.
There’s a slight pinch of relief in your chest and you deeply exhale. “No.”
He slowly nods his head and awkwardly scratches the back of his head.
It’s the first time you’ve seen him like this.
He’s pretty cute.
“Okay, well,” he mumbles as he looks around your room and picks his clothes up off the floor. “It’s really late. I’ll, uh,” he pauses, “see you tomorrow?”
You blink at him for a few moments and then quietly chuckle. “You can stay the night, you know.”
He raises his eyebrows and runs a hand through his damp hair. You hadn’t noticed how sweaty he’d gotten. “Getting a soft spot for me, are we?”
A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest when he sees the nasty glare you throw his way, along with the pillow next to your head, which he swiftly dodges. “I appreciate the sentiment but Bam’s alone and he has separation anxiety.”
Oh.
Scratch that. He’s really cute.
You can’t help but let a soft smile creep on your lips. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He nods his head absentmindedly and slowly starts backing out of your room.
“Wait,” you call out as you sit up straight. You use your sheets to cover your chest in modesty as you watch him come to a halt.
He glances at you over his shoulder, eyebrow quirked.
“You,” you pause, “you still don’t know my name.”
Silence.
He stares at you for a few more moments before chuckling. “I know your name.”
Huh?
“Wh–”
He cuts you off.
With your name.
He just said your name.
You blink in confusion a few times. Swallow thickly as you try to think of a logical reason as to how he could possibly know your name.
Did you somehow tell him and forget? Did he hear Jimin call you by name? Did he ask your landlord?
“How do you know my name?” you quietly ask, gently sucking on your bottom lip in uncertainty. He’s making you doubt your own memory.
He brings his shoulders up in an infuriatingly arrogant shrug. “We live in the same building, babe. All I had to do was look at a letter addressed to your apartment number.”
There’s no way he did that.
Did he actually go out of his way to look up your name? Didn’t he ask you what your name was earlier? Was he testing to see if you were going to lie about it?
He shrugs his shoulders with an air of nonchalance before opening the door to your bedroom. “You can call me Jungkook. Or Jay, I’m not picky.” He steps out and turns to look at you one last time. “As long as it’s my name in your mouth when you spend nights like these.”
And with that, he disappears from your line of vision but reappears in your mind like a tick that has latched itself onto your brain and refuses to leave.
Huh.
Okay. You see how it is.
And now your thoughts are clouded with everything that just happened. His hands on your skin, his lips on yours, his rough pounding on your poor nether regions. You did ask for it after all.
Every time you think about it, you want to scream. You turn your head and whimper into your pillow but every time you do, you smell him. His scent is everywhere. And as much as you hate to admit it, he smells absolutely amazing. You could bury your face in his chest and inhale it for the rest of your eternity.
Your phone buzzing on your nightstand makes you flinch and it sucks you back into reality.
You quickly turn over and reach for your phone before unlocking it and opening up the text conversation with him.
@archurback4me | 4:05AM
Goodnight Angel
And just so you know
I won’t lose to you
You hate how cheesy the smile is that creeps on your lips, internally thanking the Lord that no one is witnessing you and your big goofy smile.
You | 4:07AM
game on, gameboy
⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆
⇠ PREV. ⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆ NEXT ⇢
⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆
— enjoyed it? you can always show your appreciation by buying me some coffee if you want ☕︎♡
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stillness138 · 2 months
Note
for hc ask game: triss is actually coral, ngl my fav "mainstream" theory
so uh
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i don't like it 🙈
there are, i feel, two types of people into this theory: us the shitposters, and redditors who can't discern between books and games and end up taking it completely seriously.
so the idea of it is that Triss did die at Sodden and Coral used the chaotic situation to assume her identity, right?
my biggest issue with it is... Coral has no reason for doing that. She was well-known and well-respected in life as herself, she had everything she wanted, including Geralt. consensually, even.
my other big issue with it is that book Triss exists for a reason. The jealous best friend who is just spineless enough to throw the people she supposedly cares for the most under the bus when faced with a decision that would require her to take a real stand. seemingly sweet and caring, but spoiled inside. Sapko was trying to say something with her and gave her an arc that would've been undermined if it was actually someone else.
my last major issue with it, stemming from the previous, is that it diminishes the impact of what Triss did to Geralt. Coral wouldn't reminisce about him from the time during Season of Storms the same way Triss thinks about him in Blood of Elves because Triss is recounting a rape. And it was her, no one else, because again, she's the jealous best friend. Like, i'd rather Geralt didn't go through that at all, but given Triss also repeatedly tries to kiss him and whatnot after coming to Kaer Morhen... it's her, not Coral.
(in SoS, Geralt says smth like "you caught me on your flowery-peachy-magical perfume pheromones" [yeah he says pheromones, i don't know either man] and Coral goes "aint no way, actually you caught me on your elaborate mating dance when we first met" which like, you could read as she legit used magic and gaslit him afterwards but the whole, for the lack of a better word vibe, or i guess context of it comes across way different than the very much one-sided account from Triss. Geralt reads as very aware and very active in SoS. they are somewhat similar backgrounds, but i truly don't think what Sapko wrote post-saga in SoS is supposed to be the same event he described in BoE.)
however, i understand where the theory came from, because it seems to me like a similar place to the origin of W3 Dijkstra being a doppler. it serves as a bit of a cope for game Triss having like 3 different personalities early on.
that's the other side of the theory, right? that (only) game Triss is Coral?
which i definitely get, but again, there's no reason for Coral to do that. why would she be interested in all the manipulation and politics? game Triss eventually crystallizes into more or less her book personality - sweet looking, but rotten - despite CDPR's unwillingness to acknowledge her crimes in the text of the games. they still keep referencing everything else from the books, game and book Triss aren't two different characters.
as someone who takes design decisions way too literally, i truly think there's not much to it beyond Triss in W1 being written by mashing together book quotes by a bunch of different characters. it is wild and kinda funny but yeah. i'm not a fan :D
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Amazon’s financial shell game let it create an “impossible” monopoly
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I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in TUCSON (Mar 9-10), then San Francisco (Mar 13), Anaheim, and more!
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For the pro-monopoly crowd that absolutely dominated antitrust law from the Carter administration until 2020, Amazon presents a genuinely puzzling paradox: the company's monopoly power was never supposed to emerge, and if it did, it should have crumbled immediately.
Pro-monopoly economists embody Ely Devons's famous aphorism that "If economists wished to study the horse, they wouldn’t go and look at horses. They’d sit in their studies and say to themselves, ‘What would I do if I were a horse?’":
https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/27/economism/#what-would-i-do-if-i-were-a-horse
Rather than using the way the world actually works as their starting point for how to think about it, they build elaborate models out of abstract principles like "rational actors." The resulting mathematical models are so abstractly elegant that it's easy to forget that they're just imaginative exercises, disconnected from reality:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/03/all-models-are-wrong/#some-are-useful
These models predicted that it would be impossible for Amazon to attain monopoly power. Even if they became a monopoly – in the sense of dominating sales of various kinds of goods – the company still wouldn't get monopoly power.
For example, if Amazon tried to take over a category by selling goods below cost ("predatory pricing"), then rivals could just wait until the company got tired of losing money and put prices back up, and then those rivals could go back to competing. And if Amazon tried to keep the loss-leader going indefinitely by "cross-subsidizing" the losses with high-margin profits from some other part of its business, rivals could sell those high margin goods at a lower margin, which would lure away Amazon customers and cut the supply lines for the price war it was fighting with its discounted products.
That's what the model predicted, but it's not what happened in the real world. In the real world, Amazon was able use its access to the capital markets to embark on scorched-earth predatory pricing campaigns. When diapers.com refused to sell out to Amazon, the company casually committed $100m to selling diapers below cost. Diapers.com went bust, Amazon bought it for pennies on the dollar and shut it down:
https://www.theverge.com/2019/5/13/18563379/amazon-predatory-pricing-antitrust-law
Investors got the message: don't compete with Amazon. They can remain predatory longer than you can remain solvent.
Now, not everyone shared the antitrust establishment's confidence that Amazon couldn't create a durable monopoly with market power. In 2017, Lina Khan – then a third year law student – published "Amazon's Antitrust Paradox," a landmark paper arguing that Amazon had all the tools it needed to amass monopoly power:
https://www.yalelawjournal.org/note/amazons-antitrust-paradox
Today, Khan is chair of the FTC, and has brought a case against Amazon that builds on some of the theories from that paper. One outcome of that suit is an unprecedented look at Amazon's internal operations. But, as the Institute for Local Self-Reliance's Stacy Mitchell describes in a piece for The Atlantic, key pieces of information have been totally redacted in the court exhibits:
https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2024/02/amazon-profits-antitrust-ftc/677580/
The most important missing datum: how much money Amazon makes from each of its lines of business. Amazon's own story is that it basically breaks even on its retail operation, and keeps the whole business afloat with profits from its AWS cloud computing division. This is an important narrative, because if it's true, then Amazon can't be forcing up retail prices, which is the crux of the FTC's case against the company.
Here's what we know for sure about Amazon's retail business. First: merchants can't live without Amazon. The majority of US households have Prime, and 90% of Prime households start their ecommerce searches on Amazon; if they find what they're looking for, they buy it and stop. Thus, merchants who don't sell on Amazon just don't sell. This is called "monopsony power" and it's a lot easier to maintain than monopoly power. For most manufacturers, a 10% overnight drop in sales is a catastrophe, so a retailer that commands even a 10% market-share can extract huge concessions from its suppliers. Amazon's share of most categories of goods is a lot higher than 10%!
What kind of monopsony power does Amazon wield? Well, for one thing, it is able to levy a huge tax on its sellers. Add up all the junk-fees Amazon charges its platform sellers and it comes out to 45-51%:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/25/greedflation/#commissar-bezos
Competitive businesses just don't have 45% margins! No one can afford to kick that much back to Amazon. What is a merchant to do? Sell on Amazon and you lose money on every sale. Don't sell on Amazon and you don't get any business.
The only answer: raise prices on Amazon. After all, Prime customers – the majority of Amazon's retail business – don't shop for competitive prices. If Amazon wants a 45% vig, you can raise your Amazon prices by a third and just about break even.
But Amazon is wise to that: they have a "most favored nation" rule that punishes suppliers who sell goods more cheaply in rival stores, or even on their own site. The punishments vary, from banishing your products to page ten million of search-results to simply kicking you off the platform. With publishers, Amazon reserves the right to lower the prices they set when listing their books, to match the lowest price on the web, and paying publishers less for each sale.
That means that suppliers who sell on Amazon (which is anyone who wants to stay in business) have to dramatically hike their prices on Amazon, and when they do, they also have to hike their prices everywhere else (no wonder Prime customers don't bother to search elsewhere for a better deal!).
Now, Amazon says this is all wrong. That 45-51% vig they claim from business customers is barely enough to break even. The company's profits – they insist – come from selling AWS cloud service. The retail operation is just a public service they provide to us with cross-subsidy from those fat AWS margins.
This is a hell of a claim. Last year, Amazon raked in $130 billion in seller fees. In other words: they booked more revenue from junk fees than Bank of America made through its whole operation. Amazon's junk fees add up to more than all of Meta's revenues:
https://s2.q4cdn.com/299287126/files/doc_financials/2023/q4/AMZN-Q4-2023-Earnings-Release.pdf
Amazon claims that none of this is profit – it's just covering their operating expenses. According to Amazon, its non-AWS units combined have a one percent profit margin.
Now, this is an eye-popping claim indeed. Amazon is a public company, which means that it has to make thorough quarterly and annual financial disclosures breaking down its profit and loss. You'd think that somewhere in those disclosures, we'd find some details.
You'd think so, but you'd be wrong. Amazon's disclosures do not break out profits and losses by segment. SEC rules actually require the company to make these per-segment disclosures:
https://scholarship.law.stjohns.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=3524&context=lawreview#:~:text=If%20a%20company%20has%20more,income%20taxes%20and%20extraordinary%20items.
That rule was enacted in 1966, out of concern that companies could use cross-subsidies to fund predatory pricing and other anticompetitive practices. But over the years, the SEC just…stopped enforcing the rule. Companies have "near total managerial discretion" to lump business units together and group their profits and losses in bloated, undifferentiated balance-sheet items:
https://www.ucl.ac.uk/bartlett/public-purpose/publications/2021/dec/crouching-tiger-hidden-dragons
As Mitchell points you, it's not just Amazon that flouts this rule. We don't know how much money Google makes on Youtube, or how much Apple makes from the App Store (Apple told a federal judge that this number doesn't exist). Warren Buffett – with significant interest in hundreds of companies across dozens of markets – only breaks out seven segments of profit-and-loss for Berkshire Hathaway.
Recall that there is one category of data from the FTC's antitrust case against Amazon that has been completely redacted. One guess which category that is! Yup, the profit-and-loss for its retail operation and other lines of business.
These redactions are the judge's fault, but the real fault lies with the SEC. Amazon is a public company. In exchange for access to the capital markets, it owes the public certain disclosures, which are set out in the SEC's rulebook. The SEC lets Amazon – and other gigantic companies – get away with a degree of secrecy that should disqualify it from offering stock to the public. As Mitchell says, SEC chairman Gary Gensler should adopt "new rules that more concretely define what qualifies as a segment and remove the discretion given to executives."
Amazon is the poster-child for monopoly run amok. As Yanis Varoufakis writes in Technofeudalism, Amazon has actually become a post-capitalist enterprise. Amazon doesn't make profits (money derived from selling goods); it makes rents (money charged to people who are seeking to make a profit):
https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/28/cloudalists/#cloud-capital
Profits are the defining characteristic of a capitalist economy; rents are the defining characteristic of feudalism. Amazon looks like a bazaar where thousands of merchants offer goods for sale to the public, but look harder and you discover that all those stallholders are totally controlled by Amazon. Amazon decides what goods they can sell, how much they cost, and whether a customer ever sees them. And then Amazon takes $0.45-51 out of every dollar. Amazon's "marketplace" isn't like a flea market, it's more like the interconnected shops on Disneyland's Main Street, USA: the sign over the door might say "20th Century Music Company" or "Emporium," but they're all just one store, run by one company.
And because Amazon has so much control over its sellers, it is able to exercise power over its buyers. Amazon's search results push down the best deals on the platform and promote results from more expensive, lower-quality items whose sellers have paid a fortune for an "ad" (not really an ad, but rather the top spot in search listings):
https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/29/aethelred-the-unready/#not-one-penny-for-tribute
This is "Amazon's pricing paradox." Amazon can claim that it offers low-priced, high-quality goods on the platform, but it makes $38b/year pushing those good deals way, way down in its search results. The top result for your Amazon search averages 29% more expensive than the best deal Amazon offers. Buy something from those first four spots and you'll pay a 25% premium. On average, you need to pick the seventeenth item on the search results page to get the best deal:
https://scholarship.law.bu.edu/faculty_scholarship/3645/
For 40 years, pro-monopoly economists claimed that it would be impossible for Amazon to attain monopoly power over buyers and sellers. Today, Amazon exercises that power so thoroughly that its junk-fee revenues alone exceed the total revenues of Bank of America. Amazon's story – that these fees barely stretch to covering its costs – assumes a nearly inconceivable level of credulity in its audience. Regrettably – for the human race – there is a cohort of senior, highly respected economists who possess this degree of credulity and more.
Of course, there's an easy way to settle the argument: Amazon could just comply with SEC regs and break out its P&L for its e-commerce operation. I assure you, they're not hiding this data because they think you'll be pleasantly surprised when they do and they don't want to spoil the moment.
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If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/01/managerial-discretion/#junk-fees
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Image: Doc Searls (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/docsearls/4863121221/
CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/
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corrodedcoffins-blog · 5 months
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Lake House Days
jack hughes x teen mom!reader
note: i love writing little kid dialogue
word count: 1.3k
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Bringing the twins anywhere was hard, but having to fly and a long drive to the lake house, was a big trip for the kids. And a very long day for Y/n. All that along with meeting new people, well she knew Jack’s parents, and his brothers, and she met Trevor once. But this would be the first time Jack’s family (minus Luke) and friends were meeting her kids. What if they didn’t like their son dating someone with kids, of course they did know, but knowing and seeing were different things. 
“Love, you okay?” Jack’s soothing voice broke Y/n out of her anxious thoughts, just like he always does.
“Yeah, just a little nervous.” “About what?” The man gives his girlfriend's thigh a gentle and reassuring squeeze, from where said hand had been resting since they got in the car. Y/n checked over her shoulder, seeing the twins sleeping soundly, Abby’s head leaning on her brother’s shoulder, smiling Y/n turned her attention back to her boyfriend.
“Just of everyone meeting the twins… Your parents and Quinn meeting the twins.” The woman admits, her voice low, more aware of her sleeping children now. 
“They are going to love them, they love kids and my family loved you when you met for the first time.” Jack assured her, making a quick glance taking in her reaction before returning his eyes to the road and continuing, “Abby and Eli charm anyone they meet, without them charming me, I would have never talked to you.” “Shut up.” The woman says, smiling. 
“Well I hope you got the last of your nerves out because we’re here.” Jack says, pulling into the long driveway of the beautiful and large lake house. Putting the car in park among the impressive number of cars already here, and turning to face the younger girl.
“Ready?” “As I’ll ever be.”
As Y/n slowly tried to wake up the twins, Jack unpacked the car, in the end neither child was ready to wake just yet, leading to Y/n carrying Abby and Jack carrying Eli. The door opened before Jack could open it himself, the image of Quinn in their sights. 
“Hey- oh hi.” the man says more quietly after realising the sleepiness in both the twins' faces.”Hey Quinny.” Jack greets his brother, doing the usual bro hug guys to, as well as he could with Eli in his arms. “We’re gonna put these two in their room, then we’ll come down and see everyone.”
Jack and Y/n walk down the stairs after Y/n finally got Eli settled. “Hi Y/n!” Ellen says seeing the couple coming down and bringing Y/n into a tight hug, “Hi Ellen!” “Where are Eli and Abby?” truthfully Y/n never thought Ellen or any of Jack’s family would care to know her children, and it was never anything they had done, in actuality they have done everything to disprove that notion. But with years of dating as a single mother it was more common than not that any partner's family wouldn’t want anything to do with her babies. “They're both napping, they've had a long day already.” “Oh of course! Believe me I know.” 
-
Spending the past hour without the twins and just getting to know Jack’s family and friends better first, had done a lot to ease her anxiety that this time would in fact be different. Y/n and Ellen talked all about how fast your kids grow, Y/n didn’t really have mom friends so it was refreshing to talk about her kids with someone that could relate. This along with Ellen telling many child Jack stories, much to the man’s dismay. 
“Mommy?” A quiet, sleepy voice mumbled rubbing his eye with one hand and his sister’s in the other, the young girl’s own other hand holding her most prized possession, her blanky. 
“Hi huns! You’re up?” Her rhetorical question causes the girl to nod her head, while jumping into her mom’s lap. Eli walked over to lean his arms on her arm rest, and his head on her chest. “Ready to meet everyone?” The twins’ mother whispered, while most people surrounding the fire were watching. Both 5 year olds nodding their heads, Y/n continues, “This is Ellen and Jim, they’re Jack’s parents.” The woman says, directing their attention to her right where Ellen and Jim sat. Both children mumble a quiet ‘Hi’ back. “And that’s Quinn, Jack’s other brother.” The same routine continued on, the two successfully convinced all that they were shy. Until Eli walked up to Trevor and sat on his lap, mischief must detect mischief, but Abby stuck to sitting with her mom. Scoping out who here will be her best friend. 
-
“Hun, I need to put sunscreen on you.” Y/n said, trying to reason with her son. She already got Abby ready, Abby was only difficult getting ready if she had a reason to be, Eli however was difficult just because it was fun.
“No!” “Baby, if you don’t put this on you’re gonna get burnt just like Lia did last summer remember? She could barely move, do you want that to happen to you.” “No..” The boy mumbled, accepting defeat and lifting his arm for his mom. “Thank you.”
“Jacka, what we doing today?” Abby was going through a phase of adding ‘a’ to random words in her sentences leading to her giving Jack the new nickname. While the young girl was letting Jack put on her shoes, the man answered her question excitedly and lifting the girl off the bed and onto the floor, “Going on the lake today!” “On boat?” “Yes ‘on boat’.” “Momma we going on boat” She repeated for her mom, even though the woman was a foot away from her and already heard it. “Maybe, hunny. Not for sure. Okay! You’re both ready, how ‘bout you guys go downstairs and help Ellen with snacks?” “Okayyy!” “Okay-a!” Both children yell, running out of the room.
Once they were excited, Jack pushed the bedroom door closed and walked over to his girlfriend. In the time that they’ve been dating, when the twins are around you take any time alone together you can get. Leaning down only slightly Jack gently presses his lips to Y/n’s, her immediately kissing him back. Her hands went around his neck, his own resting on her lower back just above her ass.
Breaking apart Y/n whispers against his mouth, “Okay, ready?” “Yep” he says, stealing a quick peck before exiting the room himself.
-
“I spy… Something invisible.” Eli announces, turning from looking all around him to looking at Trevor and Cole. “What’s invisible?” the taller boy asked, he’d been taking the game pretty seriously and Eli just threw a curveball at him. “Dude, I don’t know!” Before the two could embarrass themselves, Eli stepped in, “The air!!!” “Oh! Duh!” “Good one, man!”
This was too complex for Eli’s brain but he often latched onto male figures in his life; of course he had Lia’s dad but he didn’t see him often, so not having one for himself, he loved Jack and his friends, they gave him what he didn't have. 
Y/n was watching the three play eye spy from her spot on Jack’s lap. And checking over at Ellen and Abby playing ‘Go Fisha’ as Abby calls it. After a moment of Jack not having her full attention, he brings his right hand from the woman’s lower back to rub her upper thigh, grabbing her attention once again.
“You okay?” “Yeah.” Y/n says, a smile from ear to ear spreading across her face. She is so happy. Having Jack, and people besides herself and the people she considers family (Lia and her parents) caring about the twins I was something she wasn’t sure she would ever feel. Last night even, Y/n put the kids to bed and Eli asked her if Jack was going to be their dad, it almost made her cry on the spot. But what did make her cry happy tears was that her answer, not that she spoke it to Eli, was closer to a ‘yes’ than a ‘no’.
“Yeah, I’m really happy.”
~taglist~
@yabbadabbawhosposts @mallory78 @fulla02 @mostellasm
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tastesousweet · 4 months
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⭒ the girl with the tattoo (v) - pt 1 pt 2 p3 p4
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matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader
summary : y/n and matt don't have to like each other to continue this thing of theirs, right?
warnings : implications of sex, alcohol, mention of weed, ???
mickey speaks : THANK U FOR THE LOVE ON THIS SERIES!!! sorry if this part feels shorter than the usual !! things get cute in next few parts...
THIS IS PART FIVE GO READ THE OTHERS FIRST OK
"SHE'S sick again?" remi asks, scooting herself further into the booth.
"yeah, i think it's her sinuses or something. she seemed pretty bummed about staying home, i feel awful." andrea pouts while glancing at the menu.
"she's the only person to ever be sick this often in june," remi giggles.
"we should order something to-go for her then. maybe soup?" erin suggests.
"that sounds nice, i'll text her- hopefully she's awake."
౨ৎ
"i can't keep telling my friends i'm sick." you huff as you walk back into your room to find matt redressing.
"why not?" his voice is muffled through his shirt as he tugs it over his head, leaving his hair ruffled.
you lay yourself on your bed lazily, "because they're smart enough to stop believing me soon."
"and why can't they just mind their business?" he looks over to you before reaching down to adjust the white shoes on his feet.
you stretch an arm out to grab your phone from your side table, mumbling, "you must not have friends who worry for you.”
he shakes his head then sighs, “sure, my friends care about me, but they also know when to leave me the fuck alone.”
“right, and my friends know me well enough to know i’m never asking to be left alone.” your comment comes out with more sass than you intended but you know he doesn't understand (or care to understand) your friendships enough to comment on them. then again, you were the one who brought this up in the first place.
"mmm...right. forgot you're just a little insane," he tsks, looking into your mirror and adjusting his shirt some more.
"shut up, matt," you continue staring at your phone, though it's only open to your home screen because you're far more engaged in the conversation than anything your phone could give you. "okay actually, what should i dooo?" you whine.
"i sure as hell won't know?!" his face twists up as he turns to look at you, "you're a smart girl, i'm sure you can figure it out."
you roll your eyes, "'kay... well maybe i've picked up a hobby...like, i dont know, painting! and i just really enjoy painting all alone, 'cause it helps me...focus?"
matt sarcastically laughs through his words, “you’re weird as shit,” he throws your plush throw blanket (that fell on the floor when you pushed matt on your bed just an hour ago) at you. “alright, i’m headin’ out.”
you don’t even give him a second look, “bye.”
౨ৎ
a few cheers of “ayy” and “look who made it” echo out from across the small alley as matt tucks his keys in his front pocket.
he looks over to see chris excitedly pointing at him with an arm hooked on nathan’s neck and another close friend, elijah, sitting on an oversized couch with a smile.
matt chuckles under his breath and walks closer to them, taking in the rowdy and neoned atmosphere of this downtown bowling alley. “what’s good?” he greets his group of friends.
“what’s good with you?” nathan counters with a grin as he moves to dap up matt.
matt shrugs into the handshake as eli begins to speak and stand up, “yeah, where the fuck are you comin' from?”
“home. don’t worry about it,” matt defends as his tongue guides over his hidden smile with a loose shrug of a shoulder.
“nooo! just say it how it is, matt,” chris says through a bite of nachos, “you slept in late and forgot about boys night, big fucking deal. you’re here now!” he throws his hands up before letting them fall to his sides dramatically.
matt slowly nods his head in sarcastic agreement as he faces his friends, "he's right."
he almost wants to laugh at the fact that chris actually believed his fake-sleeping enough to let him off the hook for "forgetting" their group hangout.
cameron wanders over to the group after taking his turn bowling, “‘kay, nate it’s your turn.” he then quips his chin up with a sudden grin, "hey, matt! about time you showed."
"better late than never," he breathes before joking, "you know i had to let you guys get at least a round in before i got here to start dominating."
“the word choice is a bit insane,” nick exaggerates as he approaches with arms full of bottled water and soda cans, "how about you go get your fucking shoes before you make that kind of claim." he moves around matt to place drinks on the coffee table (decorated with various bowling ball and pin themed clutter that made nick way to happy when first seeing it).
elijah places a hand on matt's shoulder, "i'll come with you, matt."
౨ৎ
"sick baby, i'm home nowww!" andrea yells from the front door.
you mentally gather yourself to continue your deception. you add weight to your eyelids, purposely making them droop and make your voice extra scratchy, as if you'd only just awoken.
andrea's at your door quickly, only tapping it slightly open, not wanting to blind you with the harsh yellowed lighting of the hallway. "hi, you up?"
you tussle under your comforter and give a small nod, "mhm."
"do you think you're like, contagious? i have your soup here and really wanna tell you some shit about tonight." she smiles warmly.
"no you're fine. please come in, i've been all alone and bored as hell," you rub your eye softly for effect.
you feel pretty guilty about this whole thing but you aren't hiding anything tragic from her. and this "illness" hasn't ruined that many hangouts...only the one's that happen to fall on days matt texts you.
"i hate to see my favorite bitch down like this, this soup better make you feel better immediately." she sighs as she comes into your room, noisy plastic bag in hand.
"i know," you lift yourself to sit up against your headboard as she sits next to you, "think i should be all better soon. i can't miss another shift at the bakery."
you were never missing work for matt, but to cover your ass you did miss a day or two of work to show your friends just how "sick" you were. if you were sick enough to stay home from work you surely were sick enough to avoid a girls night or two. but you guess it technically does come down to matt...unfortunately.
"yeah, i'm sure mr. houffman will lose it of you call off again," she giggles, sifting through the bag for your soup and silverware.
౨ৎ
barely a week later and you're feeling the best you have in a while, with the guilt of pretending to be sick no longer following you.
it's the fourth of july so there was absolutely no way you'd be continuing that act. you weren't missing out on a holiday with as many parties as this one.
and when chris asked andrea to get the girls to come party hop for the night, you told her yes immediately.
you're currently sat atop a random kitchen counter as nick moves around to make a concoction cocktail for you. you lean back on your hands to watch as he uses a knife to slice a small lime as garnish. "wow you really have an eye for this shit, nick," you laugh at his focused stare (he tries to compensate for any drinks he's had so far, not wanting to slice a finger off).
"i guess i'm just a natural!" he exclaims as he places the lime on the rim of the plastic cups, "okay, one for you," you take it from him, "and one for me." he grins at you.
"cheers!" you motion your drink towards him and he echoes you before you both take large sips.
your eyes pinch before they grow wide, "...why's it actually...good?" you laugh.
"you bitch! you thought i'd give you a shitty drink?!" he giggles and goes for another sip of his own.
"it's not that-"
you're cut off by matt's voice, "alright, time to dip. everyone's sayin' this place is really weird."
you both look over at him with his mellow attitude and perfectly organized outfit (so that he'd 'have all the colors but not look like a walking american flag'). "what? this place has been a good time so far! right, nick?"
"suppperrrr fun. maybe it's a you problem, matt." he jokes.
"come on, chris is the one who sent me to get you two. you know i would've left you both a few houses back." he teases.
you slide off of the counter easily, "okaaay," you look into his eyes and pat his chest twice mumbling, "someone needs a smoke break," before walking off in search of the door.
"wait y/n!" nick grabs a few sealed jello shots from an ice bucket nearby before rushing after you.
though he doesn't catch up to you before matt does, grabbing your hand, "you don't even know where the fuck you're going."
you breathe out defeated, "i'm sure i could've figured it out. i don't need you bossing me around."
matt pouts with squinted eyes and his head tilted, "sure."
nick comes up to you, continuing to stuff the shots into his jort pockets, "do these shorts make my ass look fat?" he turns to show you his side profile (already giggling before the punchline of his joke lands) that showcases the multiple items shoved into his back pockets and protrude out in awkward shapes.
you and nick both fall into a laughing fit and matt only ghosts a smile at his brother's stupidity before tugging your hand towards an exit. "wait! here, hold this please," you hand your drink to matt and reach your hand out for nick's. when he takes your hand willingly you raise your conjoined hands with a smile, "aw, we're like a little train!"
nick adds to the joke by pretending to be a conductor, exclaiming all the cliche lines he knows to make you laugh.
matt finally pushes a front door open, the warm summer air finally surrounding you once more. the rest of the group chatter along the sidewalk across the street. "my friends!" nick yells.
the three of you make your way down the wooden stairs (that seem to be steeper when going down than they were to walk up), and once you're in the grass your hand drops from matts's as nick drags you across the street quickly to crash into your friends.
remi's face is annoyed and confused at first but changes immediately when she recognizes your face. she throws her arms around you for a hug, "y/n! you were found!" you laugh into her neck as she sways back and forth.
"okay guys i'm thinking we hit up the place that the end of this block, right there. they've got some crazy lights goin' on so it should be fun." chris points in the direction and looks to the group for opinions.
"yeah! let's do it!" nate encourages.
the group begin to walk down the sidewalk (and slightly into the grass) lined with miniature american flags and past the many houses full of people and decorated with fairy lights and expensive garland.
naturally, everyone gravitates into cliques due to the amount of small conversations happening at once.
"that's unreal!" erin adds while hanging her arm on your shoulder, as you both listen to remi's dramatic retelling of some guy's awful flirting with her.
"i''m so over these trash ass men," remi shakes her head.
"tell me about it," erin sighs, rolling her eyes.
just as you begin to add your own opinion, matt taps your shoulder. he seems to always find a way to interrupt you. you glance behind you and see him holding your cocktail from earlier up.
"oh thanks, i forgot you had that," erin leans off of you to give you space to turn around and grab it.
though her eyes linger on matt for a second too long causing him to send her a smile and raise his eyebrows slightly in awkward question.
you feel the tension bite at the air around you and in hopes of escaping it, you turn back around and prompt remi with a new topic to discuss.
only, now you miss when erin gives matt a second glance back- and this time she offers a gentle wave and smile to him, in truce.
౨ৎ
after a few more stops at parties (you all got a little greedy about the free drinks and food which brought three extra "one more"s before deciding to cut it off), you all head to a nearby park to end the night with a firework show.
it was surprisingly well organized, with blankets already laid out around the large grassy area so that anyone could sit and watch whether they'd planned to or not.
the night has started to get the slightest bit cooler which was much needed after such an eventful three hours, leaving everyone exhausted in their comfortable spots; chris resting his head against andrea's full thighs, you next to her with your legs sprawled and arms extended behind you, nick and nathan both sat with their legs crossed, admiring the bright fireworks despite nick's flinching every-so-often.
the blanket next to you hosts erin, remi, matt, and cameron. all laying out as they laugh and talk, which you assume comes from a combination of the edibles they'd all taken at one of the parties and remi's addictingly outgoing nature that can force anyone to want to talk to her.
the booming fireworks go on for another twenty minutes before dying down and leaving the crowd in the dark, smokey air.
as you adjust to standing and take out your phone to use as a makeshift flashlight, you read the most recent of your many notifcations:
MATT - 12:36 AM
you down to paint after this???
you bite at your freshly chapped bottom lip before looking over to matt, who's currently using his hands obnoxiously to explain something he's clearly passionate about to cameron.
you sliently sigh before replying:
YOU -12:47 AM
sure
꩜⋆ ˚。⋆🎱˚
tag list (ily):
@rootbeerworshiper @deadxrx @breeloveschris @saintsturn @honestlybabymiracle @hearts4chris @starrysturniolo @blissfulbellss @aoxash
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lookismfanfics · 1 year
Text
𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭
Warnings: None! It’s purely fluff! (Semi-Established relationship)
Daniel • Jay • Jace • Vasco • Eli • Warren • Olly • Jake • Lineman •
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𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 🝮 He was tired from... Actually, you’re not sure. He’s always tired by the time we swings by your place.
🝮 You could tell his eyelids were getting heavy. He tried stifling his yawns as best as he could… but…
🝮 His cheek made contact with your shoulder, first. Warm, and, despite appearances, pudgy. 🝮 Your fingers brushed back his swoop of bangs.
🝮 He stirred, mumbling an apology.
🝮 You insisted it was fine, but eased him into your bed anyways. It wasn’t comfortable on the futon.
🝮 Your head hit your pillow about an hour later. Sleep was crawling at the corners of your mind. You shut your eyes, welcoming the darkness. 🝮 And then there’s Daniel.
🝮 It was subconscious. An accident. (Since he sleeps on— himself— all the time.)
🝮 Suddenly you felt the warmth of his mochi cheeks… on your chest?!
🝮 🚩🚩🚩
🝮🚨🚨🚨
🝮 *Panic screams*
🝮 A ton of heat rushes to your face. You’re not sure what to do…!
🝮 You look down at his sleeping features. The glow of the night light cascading pink warmth against his profile… his bangs that fall in just the right way. It makes you wanna melt.
🝮 He relaxes into your body; and soon your pulse steadies. 🝮 He insists; it was unintentional.
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𝐉𝐚𝐲
🝮 You can tell that he’s getting just a little frustrated with the design-portion of your exams.
🝮 It’s your second year in the Fashion course. You and Jay are currently struggling to invent any whimsical outfit ideas for your mid-term assignment.
🝮 You see his head lower closer to his desk as he rips out yet another page from his sketchpad.
🝮 “Is it the anatomy again? Or the actual clothes?”
🝮 He glances back at you, a frown molded onto his lips.
🝮 One nod of the head confirms your suspicions.
🝮 You set down your pencil.
🝮 “Let’s take a break. You’re gonna get burn-out if you don’t…” you warn firmly
🝮 Despite the rapid shakes of his head, you drag him up from his seat and onto the couch.
🝮 Cross-legged, huddled in the corner of the sofa, you force your partner upright. 🝮 Your hands curl into his taught muscles. He flinches upon the contact, recoiling slightly. You rub more gently. 🝮 You smile as you watch Jay slowly melt into your massage. His head droops forward, his back muscles relieved of their tension.
🝮 And then… the faux-blonde began slowly reclining onto your smaller form.
🝮 His head lay against your chest gently, pinning you to the arm of the sofa.
🝮 What could you do but watch his chest heave rhythmically up and down? It distracted you from admiring his aristocratically sculpted features; including but not limited to his tempting lips, defined collar bone, and tiny nose
🝮 You swore, you saw on “sleeping beauty’s” seemingly blank face, the tiniest smirk etch into the corners of his mouth
🝮 Jay shook his head when you accused him of being awake… but you were both well aware of the truth.
🝮 He was tired. But it was semi-intentional
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𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐞
🝮 It doesn’t matter if he’s an intellectual genius… or a kid detective… or any of that crap.
🝮 Jace Park, in all honesty, wasn’t expecting you to be “touch starved.” 🝮 He wasn’t entirely convinced he knew what that meant…
🝮 But here he was, playing a good boyfriend like the hopeless romantic he was. 🝮 And there you were… sprawled out on his bed, running your fingers through his hair while his head rested on your chest.
🝮 He faced away from you… towards your mix-matched socks. His cheek warmer than usual against your fully-clothed chest.
🝮 Your fingers released his hair for a moment to tease his ears
🝮 You feel the weight on your chest heat up increasingly, so you stop, a hint of a smirk toying at your lips
🝮 “What’d you mean by touch starved?” Jace asks finally, glancing up at you with no-nonsense interest.
🝮 You look away sheepishly, once again tugging on his hair to distract yourself
🝮 “I dunno. I just felt kinda… like I hadn’t been touched in a while.” 🝮 Jace releases a hum that you can feel vibrate his entire being. It makes your heart pound a little faster.
🝮 He’d probably fall asleep like that; lying on your chest. But of course, only per your request. He’s much too good embarrassed for those sorts of scandalous things.
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𝐕𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐨
🝮 Everything about this man is heavy. 🝮 His entire physique screams “I weigh over 200 lbs.”
🝮 So you’re a little scared. You’re scared of what he’s capable of.
🝮 You’re scared of what he could do to you- intentional or not. 🝮 Vasco is Vasco. And no matter how much they insist… St. Bernard’s aren’t meant to be lap dogs.
🝮 You want to deny him the opportunity…
🝮 But you feel a surge of trust when you look into his eyes.
🝮 He looks calm at the moment. Mature. His eyes are dark, and yet they hold their docile gentleness that assures you he isn’t in his “predator” mode.
🝮 He asks again, softly:
🝮 “Can I listen to your heart?”
🝮 You release a sigh, nodding your head without much hesitation. You’ve made up your mind, after all.
🝮 Vasco is about to bend down, but you stop him.
🝮 “Let’s just lay on my bed…” you murmur quietly. It’s a real struggle to battle off your growing blush
🝮 So that’s how you ended up pressed against your pillow, legs intertwined with his, your fingers laced together and laid across his broad shoulders.
🝮 Vasco was listening to your heart for a good long while, glancing up at you with wide and innocent puppy-eyes
🝮 You smoothed back his hair just in time to see his eyes flutter shut
🝮 Vasco wasn’t that heavy…
🝮 His cheek felt feather-light against your chest- his body hardly applying any pressure onto yours.
🝮 You sign heavily, rubbing his back with your hands. He’ll keep up the intense plank until he wakes up. You know that.
🝮 He falls asleep on your chest really quickly. He’ll ask permission before though! 🥺
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𝐄𝐥𝐢
🝮 You’re both really tired.
🝮 Eli’s eyes have dark rings beneath them. He’s still smiling- even if it looks Barbie-level plastic at this point. His hair is all rumpled, too.
🝮 You pull down the covers and begin crawling into bed: “Is her fever down?”
🝮 Eli nods, sliding next to you lethargically
🝮 You’re too tired to even blush, nodding your head as he draped his leg around your frame
🝮 You wrap your arm around his shoulders, egging him closer to you
🝮 And soon, his warm breath is tousling against your shirt. He’s completely out of it…
🝮 You let your eyes shut.
🝮 You absorb in the feeling of Eli laying on top of you, legs straddling your side, cheek melting into your chest, his hair tickling your chin.
🝮 You stay like that for a long time, both just resting your eyes.
🝮 When you feel Eli’s face heating up, even when he’s deep in sleep, you have to promise yourself not to groan when he wakes up
🝮 The start of a fever, for Eli, means that he has trouble falling asleep. 🝮 Especially since Yenna is already sick…
🝮 It also means that now, you’ve become his personal pillow.
🝮 His favorite pillow.
🝮 It’s very intentional; but it’s something both of you initiate, so…
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𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧
🝮 You force his head forward.
🝮 Sitting on the couch, your legs draped around his shoulders; you’re attempting to style the mighty Warren Chae’s hair
🝮 Your hands comb through his dark black strands of hair, gel smearing across the roots of his hair.
🝮 It smells like hair product; which he hates; but you tell him that he has to look nice today, and you won’t let him leave without looking a little different
🝮 Finally, with all his moaning about how painful it is, you give up
🝮 “Fine. Get up here on the couch is you have to…” you mutter vehemently, glaring at him
🝮 Warren is fine.
🝮 The-Diva-Warren-Chae is not.
🝮 “(My) Butt hurts.”
🝮 “You poor thing,” you deadpan
🝮 You’re well aware that he isn’t fond of fixing up his appearance. And you’re also aware that sitting on hard concrete isn’t exactly comfortable.
🝮 You spread out your legs further to accommodate his hips. Your hands reach up for his hair, once again swishing it back with more elegance than it usually has.
🝮 As you continue to swoop his hair back, tugging gently at the roots, you start to feel the weight of his back in between your legs.
🝮 And slowly… Warren slips downward.
🝮 The back of his head rests against your chest; pressed close to your pathetically pounding heart.
🝮 You sputter, shaking his shoulders lightly.
🝮 He hums in reply. “Let me sleep…”
🝮 You sigh. Your hands entangle into his hair, and you rest your chin against his head.
🝮 He fell asleep. It was probably an accident… right?
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𝐎𝐥𝐥𝐲
🝮 Olly was concentrating, you noticed.
🝮 There was a slight change in his posture; a decline in his usual chaotic-energy that always filled the room
🝮 He leaned forward onto his knees, cupping his cheek with his hand and draping the other across his thighs.
🝮 First, you had tried to ignore it. He was staring at your side profile, wordlessly, with a neutral expression.
🝮 You knew it was wrong... But compared to his fake smiles- you preferred his serious face. Just... Not when it was directed at you.
🝮 You turned to him tentatively, quirking a brow. “What is it now?”
🝮 His expression doesn’t change. He just mumbles: “Nothing.”
🝮 And then just as you turn away: “Lay down.”
🝮 You turn abruptly to him, puzzlement washing over your features.
🝮 “How many pills did you have—?” “Can you just do it already?-!”
🝮 Olly rises, shrugging off his jacket and pushing you onto the sofa.
🝮 Son of a…
🝮 For a feeling moment you think he’s going to take advantage of you. Or hurt you. Or do something that’ll negatively affect you for the rest of your-
🝮 And then his head falls onto your chest.
🝮 👁👄👁
🝮🧍‍♀️/🧍‍♂️
🝮 “What’re you doing?” You ask
🝮 His knees are on the ground, shoulders hunched over you, and face relaxing on your chest.
🝮 He turns towards you, taking a moment to burry into your chest face-down, before returning your gaze. 180°.
🝮 “What’s it look like?” He asks excitedly-
🝮 When he’s this close you can very distinctly see the inked star (✵) next to his eye, and the freckles that hide on the bridge of his nose.
🝮 You just sigh, shoving his head to the other side.
🝮 You lay there for about… half an hour? And when your body starts to cramp up, and you want to move…
🝮 You realize that Big Daddy, Olly Wang, is asleep.
🝮 He had initiated it. But it did feel… comfortable.
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𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞
🝮 “Mr. Butt?” 🝮 “Mrs. Boobs?”
🝮 “Oh shut up!”
🝮 You don’t quite remember how this happened… only that now that you were both in this position, neither of you had the intention of leaving.
🝮 Jake Kim had very soft hair. You knew that already… you had cut it for him on numerous occasions.
🝮 You had asked about it, and Jake had said you could touch it.
🝮 But now here he was, teasing you just as relentlessly as you were teasing him.
🝮 With your fingers entangled in his hair, your faces a breath apart from each other, you were certain that whatever move you made would have to really throw him off.
🝮 “…Look (Y/N)… I appreciate the gesture and all… but now you’re kinda pulling on my—”
🝮 Think? There isn’t any time to think.
🝮 You flop backwards onto the armchair, and Jake falls with you.
🝮 It doesn’t take long for the two of you to get more comfortable. Jake, forgetting his previous discomfort, slides his hips into the side of the oversized chair, spooning your frame and smashing it into the other arm.
🝮 Strings of conversation murmur through the room without much point. You both have one goal, it would seem.
🝮 As much as Jake would rather be in your position, he complies to the situation he’s in.
🝮 Gradually the two of you melt together, Jake’s cheek resting against your chest.
🝮 He feels warm, and slightly heavy. Your fingers awkwardly retract from his hair in order to trace his side profile.
🝮 Seeing as your banter has died out, and you both feel somewhat comfortable, it’s only natural that Jerry finds you asleep in that very position.
🝮 It was a gradual process that both of you partook in. Afterwards, Jake didn’t tease you about it, and you both only mentioned it on occasion.
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𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧
🝮 He’s just a little bit tired, he says.
🝮 You can tell, just by looking at him, that that’s a load of ␈
🝮 Soon you’re gesturing him into your bed, even if it does kill you that his sneakers are still on.
🝮 You help him shrug off his jacket, despite him insisting he can handle it on his own.
🝮 “You say that, but you look like you’re on the verge of collapsing.”
🝮 And collapse he did.
🝮 You heard him flop down onto your pillows, and gave him a few minutes or so to fall asleep.
🝮 Now it was your turn, and since you were quite confident he was unconscious, it didn’t bother you at all to strip naked and get into your sleeping wear in front of him.
🝮 Him: ➖👄➖ 💤
🝮 You’d never tell him what he “missed out” on, because truly he didn’t miss anything that would really impress him-
🝮 You crawl beside him, tucking your legs under the covers.
🝮 First you wrap your arm around his neck.
🝮 Bless him for being a side sleeper. 😩
🝮 He’s out cold. Really cold.
🝮 Cradling his head and moving it onto your chest isn’t a problem. He complies easily.
🝮 You’ve always wanted to sleep with him like this. Without him at night, you turn on all three nightlights and cradle your pillow until morning.
🝮 But now that Lineman’s with you, you can sleep.
🝮 You initiated it, of course, but in the morning the only one with regrets is you for not doing it sooner.
🝮 (Also he thinks this is a sign that you wanna start something so you gotta push him off of you to go to school)
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Part 2. Ft Gun, Goo, James/DG, Vinjin, Johan, Zack? Anyone?
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