#and they say that the older cars are usually stripped for their parts

[naffeclipse]

I took my car to a mechanic to fix the alignment on the 29th and they just told me today that it was stolen on the 31st. I am furious

[absolutebl]

Pit Babe - it's time for a Trash Watch!

I had to. Well, no I didn't, but COME ON. It's like Thailand is negging me. Let's burn rubber, shall we? Burn rubbers...?

The things I had been told going in about this show:

it's about car racing (this bores me)

it stars Pavel (my BL ult bias, he is my icon for a reason)

it started as an omegaverse y-novel but the A/B/O aspects would be stripped from the BL series

it's high heat

(There some chatter about whether point 3 was a mistranslation of something the author said, but don't bother me with trifles.)

Here's a definition of omegaverse:

Omegaverse, also known as A/B/O (alpha/beta/omega), is a subgenre of speculative erotic fiction, and originally a subgenre of erotic slash fan fiction. Its premise is that a dominance hierarchy exists in humans, which are divided into dominant "alphas", neutral "betas", and submissive "omegas".[1] This hierarchy determines how people interact with one another in romantic, erotic and sexual contexts.[2] (Wikipedia)

In my experience and opinion, omegaverse archetypes and tropes are often used to strip out female characters (and The Feminine) and as a tool to excuse extreme hyper-masculine behaviors without a critical feminist lens (leading to lazy characterization). Just as heat is an excuse to get nkd quickly, A/O/B is often an excuse for taboo and dubious consent actions and behaviors. Do I get why writers/readers enjoy it? Yes I do. Do I personally like it? Not particularly. (Although there are always exceptions.)

Putting all that aside, the above represents my foundational knowledge before Pit Babe started.

Oh and that the familiar BL faces appearing in this show were follows:

Pavel Naret (aka Pavel Phoom) from 2 Moons 2 & Coffee Melody - Pavel is a fluent English speaker, a bit of a drama monger, and a motorcycle rider/car-dude, this role suits him

Nut Supanut from Oxygen & Something in My Room - has an amazing voice, his somewhat wooden acting has improved steadily since Oxygen

Pon Thanapon - one of Star Hunter's stable first seen in the Gen Y series (where he stole the appeal of an intended pair), also v good in Make a Wish, I wish he'd get a lead role as he has a likable screen presence

Pop Pataraphol from La Cuisine - he's playing the Alpha rival and I'm not convinced he's suited to this role

Michael Kiettisak from Love Sick, Oxygen, Call it What You Want, Till the World Ends - playing the comic relief this time rather than his usual tortured stoic... huh

All the rest are either fresh faces or older experienced actors. Interesting mix. They must have some money behind this.

And now, get out your marshmallows! The dumpster is on fire! Let's start the roast.

Episode 1 - Platypus, Pickles, Pavel, & other Smoking Hot Problems

This first segment told with a 4 day retrospect, because I decided to do a trash watch only after @aliceisathome said I should.

My initial reaction:

the sheer audacity of Thailand being like "PitBabe is not omegaverse" and then serving "Alpha" to us on a platter in the first sex scene is

how dare

but also

what the actual fuck is going on? what world are we living in where a/b/o is LIVE ACTION ON OUR SCREENS?

we getting heat, knotting & mpreg next?

apparently this is my reality now

I'm not sure what weird quantum time stream I've jumped into but someone was all,

yes the whole world is hella screwed, but also...

Thailand has decided live action mm fanfic is gonna win it the culture wars

and I'm beginning to think they may be right

BL is now the platypus of the film industry

4 days later:

Considering how much chatter this caused there's a part of me that wondered if it was all intentional and a marketing ploy (to say it wasn't omegaverse when obviously it is). In which case... brilliant Machiavellian tactics, production.

But Thai studios are rarely this calculated in their promo. So I think it's all accidental. But it certainly caused a raucous few days on Tumblr.

On a completely different note, Babe's house looks like it started life as a particularly inventive Olive Garden. Or is that just me?

More random thoughts:

Pavel has had work done, why honey? You were the definition of perfect.

The smell thing is great, I love stuff to do with scent and necks. If omegaverse brings this to the table, fine. But...

Being all Alpha perfect butch manly man = I do not like Babe at all, I kinda want him to be brought down a peg. (Woo... pegging!) I never like narratives that glorify the captain of the football team (side eyes Cdrama CEO romances and Love O2O), Babe better have depth and damage (forget the pegging) of some kind or his behavior will get old FAST, faster than he drives (also, forget the pegging idea)

Nut is ideal in the Beta role. I mean, that's Way's character right? We all can see that. If it's not intentional, it's a miscast. I love how soft he is as as screen presence. He's great in this part.

None of the other characters are sticking out to me yet, but I'm prepared to love the side dishes in this, please make them swoon worthy!

I'm glad they didn't hold the Charlie = trickster reveal off, I like knowing he is a double agent up front.

Finally, with respect to an adequate trash watch, I'm in a pickle.

How am I going to drink for this show when there is so much else airing on Frigay? I can't keep track, if I'm drunk.

I need a strategy for this trash fire if the puns and snark are to spout forth! (HA Fourth!)

Controlled burn?

Anygay, see you all next week.

Episode 2 - Side Dish Addiction + Second Lead Syndrome are both infecting me at once

[FYI I gotta have my backup computer to watch this so that's why Imma sometimes be delayed getting the trash out to the curb.]

3 minutes! 3 minutes in and I needed to pause and wax snarkful. (Ouch, bet that hurts. Is waxing snark similar to a Brazilian but for BL? Is that why they all so hairless in The Sign?... I digress, where was I?)

Okay so the subber said Daddy but I don't think that word means what they think it means. Because Way said simply nong paa.

Usually they'll use the English word Daddy (pronounced Dah-deee) for, ya know, Actual Daddies (tm).

Wait wait:

Calling Daddy Actual

(My dumb sci-fi loving arse will see myself out the back before I start drawing Battlestar Galactica = Pit Babe connections. TOO FAR ABL. Too far.)

Look, I like the tension in this show. It's good to set up an unlikeable Alpha dog and then immediately turn him into an underdog, makes him a bit more likable. I still don't like Babe, but now at least I'm on his side.

Charlie = cute but v sus. Fortunately for him, Babe = cute but v thick.

Everyone calls Charlie Babe's dek. Yes sounds a bit like what you think but also means kid/child and SHOULD be translated as boy in this show. Why doesn't the subber get that? They a sub...ber after all. (I'll see myself out.)

Honestly, the script writers might know what they are doing with abo but our eng sub translator sadly does NOT. I'm so glad this is coming now in my BL watching life. When my ear and knowledge of Thai is so much better than it once was. Others much be SO CONFUSED.

Snicker. They just fucking with us, but it's fun to watch the mpeg speculation abound.

File this one under: Thailand's trouble with ESL plurals and also "you should have Pavel helping with these subs" sweethearts.

Production knows entirely what it's doing with this show and its omegaverse shizz (even if the subber doesn't) and I am very much enjoying the online carnage that results.

This dumpster fire continues off screen into the blogosphere and I continue to roast things over it.

Meanwhile, hi Pon! You so adorable! When you gonna lead out a BL for us?

Is Idol Factory stealing all of Star Hunter's talent? Are they the Red Racers of the BL world? These are the questions I ask myself as I watch this.

Is that AGE GAP I smell before me?

Is the 20 yr old college kid meant for the pit boss? Cause you all know I am a slut for age gaps.

Moment of a/b/o: Jeff's fear of touch/heightened personal space would be a plot marker for "baby doesn't want Alphas close cause he smells like an omega" but of course this show it not omegaverse. Not omegaverse at all.

nuh-uh

Linguistic corner!

Lung (sounds a bit like loo) is uncle(ish) it means basically a male relation older than phi. So Alan is the oldest in the crew.

Alan calls Jeff nu (which the subber translated as boy I would have gone with cutie or little one). Nu is a diminutive affectionate term that's technically gender neutral but is most often used by/on cute girls/women. Jeff did NOT like it. Then Alan sort of dodges through pronouns/particles settling on phi for I, ger for you, and ja for a particle. This is interesting because ger & ja kinda lower his age and status into a casual sphere. Not more intimate more equal to jeff... fascinating.

I love the new "Korean" red racer, he drinks my brand of soy milk. He is now my baby snake in the grass.

Get it? Snake.

He and Babe should end up together.

The fight wasn't bad, do both actors have kickbox training in their backgrounds?

Who am I kidding, I care only about Uncle Alan and Nu Jeff now. All others are irrelevant to me.

Also...

WHERE IS A BOY FOR WAY?!!! Or a Daddy. I do not care. (Methinks nether does he.)

I am now captain of the Way Appreciation Society. Let's all find a way... to get him some dick.

Also the BTS stingers are tons of fun. Looks like the set was a blast.

Finally, and I mean this kindly. Why isn't Noh Phouluang in this? He should have been cast as Winner. Bah. I'm biased.

But one should be with Noh.

Episode 3 - Side Dishes Delux

Gayest bridge n Thailand has made its obligatory appearance.

How much do I love uncle & nu? They are SO damn cute. Also nu flustered is the best kind of nu.

I could not care less about Babe and Charlie. Except I do love the smell thing.

Way will break my heart by getting his broken. He is right tho.

Tra la la. I feel like this is a bit like KP 2.0.

Charlie is a such a princess (and ace manipulator). Good thing Babe clearly likes being buttered up.

Babe's backstory was more interesting than I expected, I didn't think we would go so far into the paranormal side of a/b/o. I like it and I hope they lean into it quite a bit more. Make it part of the plot.

Unlike the kissing thing which seems to have been gotten over rather quickly.

I gotta say I'm enjoying the corporate sponsorship jockeying and tension more than I thought I would. I'm curious as to who Jef and Charlie are working for and what their motivation is. The plot itself is keeping me intrigued and that is rare for me with BL.

So no trash talk this ep, I was largely absorbed and entertained. I didn't event need booze. Shocking behavior on my part.

#giveWayaboy2023

Episode 4 - I (who never ship) am shipping the impossible

Here’s the thing. I just want this to be a better story than it is. Right now it’s kind of like a soap opera. I don’t hate lakorn, I really don't. To Sir With Love is a glorious chewing of the diamanté scenery (completed with death glitter). But...

If this is gonna be a soap opera it needs to lean into the messy side more than the tailored high concept side. Support characters and evil needs more screen time.

Instead, right now, I don’t know where I am with this show because it doesn't know where it wants to be. I’m kind of dangling in the middle of a dirty situation. It’s uncomfortable for me, and the show feels uncomfortable for the performers. 

Also... I have questions.

Yes, of course I want to know what Charlie & Jeff are up to. Why can Jeff see the future?

But more importantly I NEED to know why Babe has a flying saucer bed?

That kind of lighting makes nobody look good, especially not at that angle. It’s very traumatic and I’m not wild about the shag rug either. I have concerns about Babe's taste. I guess is what I am saying. 

On a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT note:

There’s absolutely no chemistry to justify this, but I have decided that I am going to personally advocate for, and ship, Way and the interloping not-really-Korean. They are both sort of own-moral-code types. I have tiny crush on Kim, and Nut is the prettiest, and Way is Best Boy so there it is, I would like them to hook up, please & thank you.

#giveWay2Kim2023

Arrow guy is cute, too. Will we get to see him bone?

Is he going to be another one of the adopted alpha super-kid pets?

What the hell, throw Arrow Boy a bone! All hot boys in BLs deserve bones.

Plot thickens.

Hah.

Thickens.

(I am an immature idiot.)

Episode 5 - wait wait way-t, can arrow boy have Way?

Look, BLabies, I didn’t get any screen caps this episode because frankly there wasn’t anything worth capturing.

I guess Charlie really does love Babe? Very dramatic if idiotic saving from the burning car. But Babe has gone to the broken Alpha place of extremely unlikeablability (frankly he was almost there at the start). If I were Charles B Spectacled I would be OUT by now. 

Is that?

NO.

Don't get the plastic bowl.

No white towel sponge bath. Please kill this trope.  

I mean, it's not as bad as singing, but that's because NOTHING is as bad as singing in a Thai BL.

AND the main boys are back together.

I don’t find their relationship or Babe’s lack of senses a particularly interesting aspect of the plot.

Unless, of course, Babe is pregnant and that's why he lost his Alpha sniffer.

BUT I do love the sides.

Jeff = the introvert precog who can’t/wont do people and Alan = the extrovert people person who WANTS but doesn’t understand him. 

Were Jeff and Charlie ALSO raised by Evil Daddy MacEvilPants? 

I liked the way Arrow CEO & Way looked at each other. Way, hon, give up on Babe (he sucks) and get thyself a billionaire bf with great aim and BDE.

On a completely different note, the best thing about this show is the blooper reel. That thing with the green smoothie going down his pants was hilarious!

In conclusion, this was a green smoothie down the pants episode. I was entertained, and it’s probably gonna be good for the plot in retrospect, but it was kind of squishy and unpleasant at the time.

Episode 6 - Are they actually listening to us now? Is Tumblr bugged?

This was a fun ep full of like actual racing and shizz.

Whatever.

Charlie is on the team now. All the teams, apparently.

Can we talk about Jeff and Alan?

The apology scene! Did you hear that Alan dropped to chan/ger? Eeeee!!! So cute. (He equalized their relationship in a soft way.)

Get it with that language play hottie. Next up: lengua play.

Please & thank you. 

Meanwhile, as all of the Internet knows, they went fully in for omegaverse - no bars.

I have to say, one of the greatest typos (or whatever) in existence is enigma instead of omega.

That's where I personally would rank in the omegaverse.

Hello, my gender is... enigma.

 Apparently it's a/b/o and sometimes e!  Also sometimes switch-ee 

Oh I'm very proud of myself with that one.

Funfunfun

Charlie. Babes. When a man asks to be thrown up against the wall. You throw him against that wall.

OMG is that arrow boy looking at Way in the bar?

3 seconds later.

Noooo.

Wait come back.

Noooooo.

That’s what I actually want to watch! 

OMG. Who said nu was the first step to teelak?

I flipping love Alan. 

Ah the boyfriend ep. Thank you, but I still don't trust Charlie.

Poor Way.

But nice crying jag, and I don’t say that often in Thai BL.

Now let him go, Way.

A boy with his arrows is waiting. 

(source)

Note for the future: tumblr has a bug that stops allowing edits after a certain time/number, thus my full trash often occur in 2 segments as a result. Click on the "abl trash watches bl" tag for the full thing if you're reading this and later episodes are missing.

[broodybuck]

Slow Dancing in a Burning Room | Series Part 1

Series Summary: At a strip club, Steve figures out one of the dancers is homeless. He offers him the guest room in his home along with anything else he wants. He offers to take care of Bucky. Even though Bucky can't understand why.

Series Tags: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes | Rated E | Tags: 18+ explicit smut, sugar daddy Steve Rogers, stripper Bucky Barnes, age difference, no powers AU, daddy kink, dom Steve Rogers, sub Bucky Barnes

[Masterpost] // [ao3 link]

Steve isn't a strip club kind of guy, usually. But his friend Tony drags Steve with him tonight.

Steve can admit, he is enjoying himself. Tony chose a men's strip club knowing Steve's taste. Tony's into everything anyway so it didn't slow him down. He has a line of strippers waiting to dance for him since he pulled out a literal bucket of money.

Steve isn't that flashy with his money. He's honestly only tipping the strippers because he assumes they need it. And also, the men are stunning, ripped. Yeah, they're nice to look at.

But it makes Steve's chest hurt looking at these men selling their bodies for money, parading around in their underwear as a necessity. No one should have to do that. But all Steve can do is tip them as much as he can.

Most of them have spotted Tony's bucket of money and are making their way over to him. So Steve's left to watch the stage and tip the dancers as they come and go.

That's when he sees him. By far, the youngest and smallest model the club has. God, he looks fresh out of high school. His skin is smooth and pale. He's fit, Steve can tell, but he only has half the muscles of his coworkers. He needs a little more meat on his bones to work up to them.

Beyond the model's body, his eyes catch Steve's attention. They're a piercing blue that digs into Steve's soul. The boy's hair is long and wavy, brushing across those blue eyes every time he moves his body around the pole.

Steve's mouth waters. He beckons the stripper over for a dance, takes out a hundred-dollar bill. The younger brunet's eyes widen. He straddles Steve's lap seductively and leans in close to his ear.

"You could pay for a private room with that," the boy breathes, digs his hips in circles and rocks a bit. "Or you could save the big bucks and take me home tonight... for free."

The offer is tempting, of course it is, but Steve doesn't want to just bed the boy for a night. He wants him off this stage and into his bed permanently. He doesn't want just sex.

"Just a dance is fine, thank you," Steve says, tucking the money into the waistband of the dancer's booty shorts.

The model shoots him a look, then rushes to the end of the dance. The boy proceeds to avoid Steve the rest of the night, he must be mad Steve declined his offer.

It doesn't surprise Steve in the slightest when he leaves the club later on and finds the same beautiful boy linking arms with an older man, walking toward the parking lot.

Steve returns to the club the next few nights. He watches the young man dance on stage every evening. Then at the end of the night, he watches the brunet go home with a different customer each time.

It's the end of the week and the boy walks out for the first time with no one on his arm, alone. It's the first time he notices Steve lingering by the door.

"It's you," the boy says cautiously, narrowing his eyes at Steve.

"I'm Steve," Steve puts out his hand but the boy only lets out a long breath.

"Bucky," he grits, looking around, refusing to shake Steve's hand.

"You need a ride somewhere?"

"Only if you're inviting me to your place."

"I have the room."

Steve notices the blush spreading into the boy's plump cheeks. Their eyes meet.

"If you're serious... um, yeah."

Steve nods, not looking surprised in the slightest.

"This way," he says clicking his car fob. His car beeps, the headlights flashing.

Steve drives the boy to his home. The younger man doesn't look stunned by the size of Steve's place. Or the decor once they get inside. He seems unfazed, distant even.

Steve fears this is what Bucky's done with every man. He does it because he has to. Because he has nowhere else to go, to sleep. He's homeless, Steve confirms for himself. It's exactly what he feared.

"So, the guest room is up the stairs," Steve says and takes the first couple of steps.

"The guest room?"

When Steve turns around he sees Bucky hasn't moved from his place in the foyer.

"Yes, there's an attached bathroom you're free to use as well."

"What?" Bucky says, shaking his head in confusion.

"I thought you needed a place to crash."

Bucky looks embarrassed, his face is turning that pretty pink color again. And it's beautiful, Steve gets distracted momentarily.

"You were at the strip club," Bucky counters. Steve only nods. "And you..."

He's at a loss for words.

"I offered you a room to stay. It's no trouble, really. It's just up these stairs," Steve motions to him.

Slowly, Bucky begins to step forward and follows Steve up the staircase. When they reach the guest room, Steve opens the door.

"I can offer you some spare clothes although they might be a bit big on you," Steve says, casting a glance up and down the smaller boy.

Bucky notices and arches an eyebrow but he decides to accept the offer.

"If you don't mind, just a t-shirt and sweats would be great."

"Of course, I'll leave them outside the door. There are clean towels in the bathroom. Kitchen is also available. Let me know if you need anything."

"Um, okay…" Bucky says, his hands fidgeting. "Thanks."

"Goodnight," Steve says.

He shuts the door and leaves Bucky inside. He places the pile of spare clothes outside the door and heads back to the master bedroom for the night.

The next morning, Steve has a few hours to himself before Bucky rises. He gets a workout, run, and shower in before he's in the kitchen cooking breakfast.

Bucky comes down in the clothes Steve left for him. They are loose on him, they hang from his small frame and god, it makes Steve want to slip them right off, pick the boy up in his arms, and taste every inch of him.

Steve blinks the thought away.

"Morning," he says. "There's coffee. Breakfast'll be ready in a minute."

"Uh, I can head out if you'd rather," Bucky says.

"If you need to be somewhere otherwise I'd be happy to have your company a little longer."

Bucky stands there silently and in that time, Steve finishes the eggs and turns off the stove. He fills two plates with food and brings them to the table.

Bucky stares at the food as Steve carries his coffee mug over and sits. He motions to Bucky to sit across from him where the second plate is waiting.

Bucky moves slowly like he did last night. Like he's unsure of his every move, but eventually he sits and starts carefully eating. Steve smiles.

"I don't get what you're doing," Bucky mumbles through a bite.

"I'm offering you a place to stay," Steve says.

"For how long?"

"As long as you'd like."

"I can't pay rent."

"I'm not asking."

"What?" Bucky stops eating, his gaze snaps to Steve's in shock.

"You don't have to pay a dime. And you're welcome to stay."

Bucky's brows knit together, his eyes narrow.

"Sex then?"

"No."

"I don't get it."

"I've seen you go home with a different man every night this week," Steve begins to explain, but Bucky cuts him off.

"Why do you care who I fuck?"

"I don't care. I only care if you're using your body to find a place to sleep at night."

Bucky gulps and tries to hide it.

"Were you stalking me?"

"No," Steve laughs this time. "It's simple, really. I live in a big house alone, I have a lot of money I can't spend all on myself. I'd like some company."

"For sex," Bucky repeats again.

"No. I can't make that more clear. You're completely free to go and do as you please. The only catch is, if you live here you have to quit stripping. And if you do, I'll finance all your expenses. Food, clothes, outings."

"So what do I do while I live here?"

"Whatever you want."

"But I'd have to go on outings with you?"

"I'd like you to but nothing's required."

"So I can live here and sit in my room all day and eat all your food and spend all your money and you wouldn't care?"

"That would be fine."

Bucky stares at him for a long moment then blinks in disbelief.

"What?"

Steve continues eating as if to let him process the idea.

"What if I fuck someone else?" Bucky tries.

Steve simply shrugs.

"You wouldn't care?" Bucky balks.

"Why should I?"

"Cause I'd be living in your house, you'd be paying for everything. Why would you do that?"

"I like to take care of people. What I want is to take care of you, Bucky. I don't need anything more in return."

Bucky pulls at his hair, running his hands frustratingly down his face.

"You're so fucking confusing. I thought you were into me. Why would you pick me up at a fucking strip club?"

"Because you needed help. You had no life there."

"This can't be for nothing. No one is that nice."

Steve sighs. "Okay, look. Am I attracted to you? Yes. But that doesn't matter. I'm never going to force you to repay me, especially with your body. I genuinely like taking care of people. I've heard some call it a sugar daddy. That sounds a little weird to me. So I just call it helping you financially so you're not obligated to sell your body in that way."

Bucky stares at him.

"So what, we just co-exist under the same roof fucking other people while you pay for everything?"

"If that's what you want, sure. If one day, you want something else just tell me."

Bucky narrows his eyes, trying to figure out Steve's angle. The angle he doesn't have.

"And what if I want to fuck you?"

"If you truly want that. Not to repay me but because you want me in that way... then we can talk about it."

"Talk about it?" Bucky scoffs. "Jesus, what are you some fifty-year-old prude."

"I'm not a prude and I'm not fifty. I'm forty-three."

"Whatever," Bucky rolls his eyes.

"I will ask one thing. I would appreciate it if you would curb that kind of language. All those foul words don't sound very nice coming out of such a pretty mouth."

Bucky blinks wide. "You're flirting with me. Ha!"

Steve shrugs. "I'm allowed to flirt in my own home. And all I'm asking is you clean up your language if you're going to live here too."

"And if I don't?" Bucky crosses his arms.

"I can't force you. It's about respect. If I decide I don't like this arrangement, I'll discuss with you the terms of ending it."

Bucky stares at Steve for an elongated beat. Like he's trying to figure this out. Like he swears he's being tricked.

"Fine, whatever," Bucky agrees. "No cursing."

"Good. Now let's finish breakfast."

[elfqueen006]

Duchess' Choice - Villainess AU

Based off of @yukidragon's Villainess AU headcanons, that are absolutely brilliant! I love villainess manhwas with all my heart, and the Sunny Time Town AU being added to the mix is even better because the AU as a whole needs more attention!!

---

May-Rose is a perfect cut out for a villainess isekai protagonist in my opinion. She's curt, standoffs, and can have a bit of a sadistic streak if she's feeling nasty - it usually never goes too far beyond some teasing and hazing, though.

In my "perfect universe" of what I would call the Sunnyside AU, Ian has inherited the role of Sunny Day Jack from an older Jacktor rather than usurping it by the studio. In this universe, May-Rose is the Cloudy-Bell Sue actress' daughter, and seeing as this makes her "television royalty", she'd automatically be offered a role on the show, likely as a supporting character.

Instead though, she chooses to be in the background, working on designing the set, the toys, and some of the promotional material.

And she loves it! She feels like she's playing an important part in all of this.

And another thing, Ian and May are engaged in this universe. Everything seems to be going well for her!

That is until she caught Ian cheating with an old flame in the backseat of his car. Skylar, her name was. Ian got caught up with her in theater school. It was a big hurdle in their relationship but he'd sworn to May that he wouldn't get involved with her again... guess old habits die hard.

In a fit of rage, May had stormed off set and drove away. She died in a crash shortly...

Enter the villainess, Midnight Bluebelle. At first, she was a one-off antagonist from the original series. A mime lady who mocked people with puppets and took toys from children. The new Sunnytime Crew Show would've been written with more complex situations in mind, and if May were on board with acting, she would've been cast as such and been a villain for a major arc. However, she was scrapped from the show and put in the promotional book series aimed at young girls and tweens: Duchess' Choice !

The OMC in Duchess Choice is a generic female lead to stand in for the reader. She's from a dwindling house, but boosts her standing in high society after returning Prince Jacks' special pin that was given to him by his father who's away on diplomatic business.

Her sudden popularity then attracts attention within and outside the castle, including that of the cruel Duchess, Midnight Bluebelle, who taunts and sets up various schemes to sabotage OMC's standing with the prince, whom she aims to marry after discarding her fiance, Ian Duff, the knight deemed Sir Sweet Dreams.

Over the course of the three books OMC balances other possible suitors such as the Glad-Pire, Sous Chef Sweetly, and Sir Sweet Dreams. Inevitably, the endgame is Prince Jack. And after learning of her crimes, Belle is stripped of her title and is exiled from the capital.

When May awakens as Belle, she's in the middle of the ballroom floor, having fainted either due to shock or a sudden illness.

She's tended to by her only living relatives, cousins Cloudy Belle Sue and her resentful father, Sam Sours of the Marquisate.

She's taken to her estate and takes some time to gather her bearings, taking note of the point in time before the story.

She and Ian have only been recently engaged, set up via Gretchen Duff as a way to keep Ian in check, so the first standing of business is to properly divorce him. Just because she remembers the woman she was doesn't make her blameless in Sir Ian's torment. She divorces him and makes a formal apology to him, leaving him perplexed and worried.

With the title of Duchess gone, Belle has gone back to being a Marquess. Naturally, this raises some eyebrows that the coarse and condescending woman would cut off a man so devoted to her without a second thought.

Sam definitely has some things to say. In his eyes, she'd blown off the best chance at a happier life even after she practically abandoned Sue and him. But Belle has a plan in mind. She decides... to open up a toy store!

Before Ian had gotten his big break, Belle as May had been struggling to make ends meet for the both of them. Part-time, she worked as a cashier in a yogurt shop. But she'd made a majority of her funds making gothic stuffed animals on her own time and from commissions.

Despite this being in a medieval European-like setting, and around this Era stuffed toys wouldn't have been invented yet, they coincidentally are! Because when you have a society full of clowns, you naturally make more fun things to do.

And that's just what Belle intends to do this time around, have fun!

(And if she can... avoid the OMC!!)

[sio-writes]

Into the Woods - Chapter 3

Another request to continue a previous piece, requested by an anon, so I hope they see it!

Summary: After saving a wolf in the woods from a bear trap, our reader finds an injured boy in the woods and brings him to their cabin to heal his wounds. Little do they know, they're bringing in much more than they could imagine.

<< Chapter 2

After dinner, Cole slinks into the spare room the first chance he can. It's understandable, given all he's been through, so neither you nor your uncle mention it, only exchanging mirrored expressions of concern as the door shuts quietly in its frame.

You set to loading the dishwasher as your uncle gathers the last of the silverware and plates. The silence between you is heavy, setting you on edge. You have so many questions, so many thoughts. You're part of a pack now, both of you, whatever that means. Can a hunter of werewolves even become a part of a pack? Your uncle has a whole new shroud of mystery hanging off his shoulders, and you can't help but feel a little betrayed by it. Sure, he kept quiet about the scar on his leg, but that's a whole other deal compared to the mystery that today has brought.

"I can see smoke comin' from your ears, kid," he calls from the living room. "When you're done over there, come watch a movie with me."

When he asks for a movie, it usually means he wants to talk, and for the first time, the thought doesn't fill you with anxiety. You slide the dish rack into the dishwasher and click it to the quietest setting possible, hoping Cole doesn't hear it-- do werewolves have good hearing, or does it change when he's human? So many questions.

Your uncle sighs heavily as he falls backwards into the couch. His bushy red eyebrows are drawn in, so low they nearly cover his eyes entirely. "I'm sorry for lyin'," he says. "But I didn't think your folks would let you back if they thought I was crazy, or if you thought I was."

"You're definitely not crazy," you offer with a half-hearted laugh as you rest on the couch, trying to lighten the mood.

He holds up a hand. "No, I am. Now you just know why."

Arguments bubble up in your throat, but your uncle looks like he's not done talking.

"These woods are old," he says, fiddling with his hands. A movement you've never seen him do. "And some of the things living here are even older. You learned about manifest destiny, Oregon Trail, all that nonsense?" 

You nod, recalling the lessons from high school, and he continues, "The wolf clans have been here for ages, they came over with the first white settlers and set up shop in places no one else would go. They found oil and got rich real quick, and then they found copper a few decades back and got richer. Things were in balance, more or less, until Cole's bastard father took over. William Ackerman."

The name sounds familiar, and you realize it's the brand of your father's car. "Ackerman Auto?"

He nods. "That's the one."

Woah. Ackerman isn't an old brand, but it's everywhere. They sell a lot of cars, appliances, even electronics. Your dad's sedan, the fridge in your house, you think even the sink has the Ackerman logo on it.

Your uncle continues, "The wolves had a treaty with the loggers and woodsmen that lived in the area: everyone keeps to themselves, and no one gets hurt. But then William took over, and he started strip-mining, pushing into places he wasn't supposed to." He pauses, looking down the hallway towards Cole's room. "And I guess they started leavin'."

You follow your uncle's gaze down the hall and to the closed door, thinking about the injuries Cole had sustained, the scars on his face, what may be unseen beneath his clothing. Cole looked absolutely miserable when you found each other in the woods, and granted he'd been bleeding and starving to death, but there was a distinct resignation to his eyes that spoke of years of being pushed down.

This all feels too heavy for a summer in the woods, and part of you wishes everything could go back to before you released Cole from that trap. But Cole doesn't deserve to be left there to die, or worse. 

You chew on your lip. "So what about you?"

"William took over in the early 80's. When the clan decided they didn't wanna play by the rules, I got hired to handle the problem."

You blanch. "You killed people."

Your uncle's brow furrows. "Don't be fooled by the pup in the guest room. They're predators, kid. Whadda ya think they eat once the construction pushes all the wildlife out?"

You look back down the hallway again, heart stuttering. Cole wouldn’t…would he? You did just meet him a few hours ago, and he was grumpy the whole time, and even said that you smell. But he held still while your uncle sewed him shut, and hasn't complained about anything with the cabin or the food.

Maybe he just needs some time to adjust to living here, that's all. 

Tiredness hits you like a wall, and you stretch your arms, yawning. Your uncle nods sympathetically.

"I think it's time for bed."

***

Sleeping on the cabin's feather mattress is like sleeping on a cloud. You have to work up the energy to roll out of bed, and when you're standing you already miss the plush embrace. But your brain screams for coffee, so you slink into the kitchen and go through the motions of making it.

You're the first one up-- the living room is empty and you can hear your uncle snoring down the hall, but you're okay with flying solo for a bit. The energy of yesterday has worn off, but instead of being exhausted like last night, you're fizzling with unshed potential. You had thought of even more questions for Cole-- How does he change? Did he have to learn it? What's it like being a dog? And you had a few tests taking shape in the back of your mind, to see his abilities and compare them to an actual dog's.

And the thought of him hanging out for a while made you happy too. Cole seems like a cool guy-- if a little grumpy, but he's had a good night's rest, so maybe he'll be nicer this time around.

Cole emerges from the hallway room, hair partially pulled out of the elastic and sticking up in several spots. He looks a little more…alive compared to last night. Still limping, but he’s not as pale, and he’s lost those shifty eyes that darted towards loud noises.

You offer him a smile over the kitchen peninsula. “Sleep okay?”

The one thing he wears like a winter coat is that suspicious glare, like he’s assessing the easiest way to take you out, and when he’s all well-slept and fed, the glare has become even more intimidating. So much for that grumpy demeanor being slept off. He takes a seat at one of the barstools, and then he shrugs. “S’fine.’

He doesn’t offer anything else, and the two of you sit there for a painfully long time until the coffee machine beeps and pulls you away.

“Cream? Sugar?” You offer, and Cole nods for both.

“Huh,” you remark. “I figured you to be a black coffee kind of guy.”

“I’m not an animal,” he says over the rim of his cup. “Well, I am, but I’m not a caveman.”

The sarcasm in his voice makes you chuckle, and when Cole is finished mixing his coffee, you help yourself to a huge spoonful of sugar and a cup of mostly cream. It's the perfect combination to combat your uncle's bitter coffee, and with that first test sip, it's perfect.

Mornings have always been quiet at the cabin. It's so far removed from any major city, even the main road is a good three miles away, and the trees act as a natural barrier so all you hear in the morning is the wildlife. The crunch of branches underfoot as deer make their way through the backyard, the coo of Morning Doves, the rattle of a woodpecker, it's like the ambient sound app you listen to when you're trying to sleep. You drink it in along with your coffee, ignoring the pull to fill the silence with more talking.

Just as the quiet moment is stretching to a point where you're uncomfortable, your uncle opens the front door, ax in hand. He chopped plenty of firewood yesterday, so he shouldn't already need more. He does sometimes go outside to burn energy, maybe he needed the stress relief.

"Mornin' kids!" he says with a smile.

"Morning!" you reply, and out of the corner of your eye, you see Cole offer a short wave. Your uncle steps past you and into the kitchen to pour his own coffee before he steps back out and makes his way to the deck on the other side of the living room. He doesn't say anything as he does this, only hums to himself, and the kitchen is small enough that any conversation would be like nails on a chalkboard. It leaves you with the equally-horrible situation of staring directly at Cole with nothing between the two of you, like a conversation, to take up space. 

But eventually, your uncle steps outside, closing the sliding glass door behind him, and you and Cole are drenched in silence once more. It doesn't seem to bother Cole, though, as he just sip his coffee and looks around the kitchen. But you're anxious. Your fingers drum on the countertop, your eyes can't land on anything for longer than a second, and your leg bounces of its own accord.

And after another agonizing minute of this, you finally burst. “So is it one form over the other?”

Cole looks at you, surprised at the outburst, and confused at the question. “What?”

“Your dog form!”

His brows pull in, and he purses his lips. “It’s a wolf.”

You wave him off. “Same thing. Is it all wolf or nothing? Or can you make yourself have, say, ears and a tail?"

“...You’re making fun of me.”

“Am not! I’m just curious.”

He shifts on his seat. “It’s all wolf or nothing.”

“That's awesome!"

Cole sighs, running his thumbs along the edge of his coffee mug. “Dad said the wolf never really goes away. Stays dormant, waiting for its next meal.” Cole rolls his eyes, and he seems annoyed. 

Oh, you've upset him. You have to fix this, you have to make it better, but your curiosity gets the better of you. “Can you do it at will?”

He slams his cup down. “It’s not a party trick! It’s a curse from my father, I can't control it, and it fucking hurts! Imagine what it feels like to have your skin peeled off, your bones rearranged, and your face stretched out! And then--and then you barely have a chance to limp away from the pain when suddenly, you’re being hunted for fucking sport! Does it sound like something I’d want to do just anytime?”

Cole stands, and in three steps he’s in the hallway, and the door to the guest room slams shut.

Your uncle walks in. “What was that?”

“I think I ticked him off,” you mumble, trying to pull your shoulders up to your ears.

Your uncle rests a hand across your shoulder. “Don’t take it too personally, kid. He’s been through a lot.”

Guilt overcomes the other emotions in your body, heavy like a rock sinking low into your gut. Of course Cole wouldn’t want to joke about it, and he was right to get angry. "They hunted him for sport? His own son?"

Your uncle sighs. "I don't doubt it. William's always been…" He shudders, and doesn't finish the sentence. "I've only spoken with him once when he started strip mining, and it was like talking to the devil himself."

“Oh,” is all you can say.

“I can’t imagine livin’ with the bastard.”

It’s not meant to be a jab at you, but you feel it all the same, and you rub your arm self-consciously. "I should go apologize."

"I reckon he'd appreciate that. I'll give you some space." Your uncle unwinds his arm from around you, and you watch as he opens the sliding glass door, steps onto the deck, and leaves an inch of space in the door before plopping into a chair by the grill.

As you step out of the kitchen and towards the hall, you run through several sentences in your head, tasting possible sentences on your tongue searching for one that you like. You toss them aside one by one until you’re left with two options, the first being you kick in the door and force him to accept your apology, and the second, likely much better option.

You gently knock on the door. "Cole?"

No answer. You try again. "Cole, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. I just--" you turn so your back is against the door, your scripted practice statement dissolving in the waters of your mind. "I don't get out much, and it's hard for me to…" You make a vague hand gesture, realize he can't see it, and blow a raspberry and hope your frustration comes across. You walk your feet out, sliding down the door until you’re sitting on the floor. "It’s hard to connect to people. I can't read a room to save my life."

You pause, giving him space to respond, but you're met with silence. You walk through the chess game that is your problem-solving method, once again running through several scenarios and tossing them out, until a message from your teacher pops in your mind, about empathy and compassion. "You know, I can burp on cue. But it makes me throw up if I do it too much. My friends dared me to do it during class once, but I mismeasured the, uh, force of it? Yakked all over third period."

You laugh to yourself at the memory. At the time it was embarrassing as hell, but now that you're older, you can look back on it with the perspective of kids having a bit of fun. You did get out of third and fourth period for the day.

The doorknob clicks as Cole turns it, and you sit upright, twisting your head to see him in the cracked door. He’s standing, looking down at you, and from the sliver of his face you see his brow pulled down, mouth pursed. “You can burp on cue?” You nod, and he snorts. "I don't believe you."

Your face burns. You know what he's asking, and you haven't tried it in at least a year. Still, this may be your only chance to get him back on your side.

You sit up straight, focusing on a point by Cole's knee because looking at him directly would be too much, and suck in the air, closing it in your throat and expelling it again. You took in more than you're used to, and the belch you release is loud and unwieldy.

The silence that follows make your eyes flick up to Cole's face, and you take in his widened eyes and slightly ajar mouth, and the heat in your face intensifies. Then, Cole bursts into laughter. He's in fits, crouched on the floor so he's at your level, tears collecting in the corners of his eyes.

"It wasn't that funny," you mumble, mostly to yourself because Cole doesn't seem to be listening to you. A part of you can understand his frustration from earlier, now. Asking him to do something he doesn't enjoy is a bit rude after all, and maybe that's what he wanted you to know. 

You offer him a hand to shake. "Truce?"

He smiles, wider than that first, and takes your hand. His palm is warm and there's strength behind his grip. "Truce."

[zappedbyzabka]

I know we talk about minx Johnny and older Daniel, but what if we had religious guilt Johnny (Zabka's cross) with older Daniel?

Daniel slowly pushing past all the crap Johnny's been taught (by Sid? By his repressed sensei?) to peel back to the Johnny inside. Maybe one day is just him kissing Johnny, slowly introducing tongue. Daniel works his way to kiss Johnny's throat, maybe sparring with him and getting that gi open so that he can make love to Johnny's tits. And Johnny just going red but letting Daniel lick and squeeze his pecs because he kind of likes it and it's easier in the dojo just with the two of them.

Both of them slowly working up to Johnny thinking about blowing Daniel, and Johnny bending down in seiza stance to lick delicately at Daniel's dick because it's his first time. Daniel lets him control the pace even though it's driving him crazy, seeing Johnny's flushed face and his mouth stretching around the girth. He pulls out in time to spill over his own fist but the sight of Johnny reaching out to run his fingers through the cum will be burned into Daniel's eyes forever.

The first time Daniel gets Johnny naked is on Johnny's birthday. Johnny's simultaneously determined and shy about it- he tells Daniel he knows what he wants but keeps hiding his face in the pillow when Daniel licks at his hole.

Daniel wants to, but he doesn't fuck Johnny that night. He holds Johnny's legs apart with his hands and opens Johnny up, fucking him with his tongue instead. Johnny comes three times that night and Daniel laughs because those teenage days are behind him.

Johnny gets bolder after that, cornering Daniel in closets at LaRusso Auto. He likes to take Daniel's hands and shove them down the back of his chinos. Then he mouths at Daniel's neck while Daniel plays and pets with his hole. The final stroke comes when Daniel's at his office, its a Friday and everybody's left early.

Johnny comes in, and Daniel looks up. He starts closing his laptop, getting ready to head out with Johnny when Johnny locks the door and strips out of his pants.

Daniel stares as Johnny walks over to him, throwing off his shirt on the way and stands in front of him buck naked. Then he turns around and bends himself over Daniel's desk, and reaches around to part his ass cheeks.

Daniel's cock goes diamond hard. The valley of Johnny's ass is slick and shiny. Daniel covers Johnny's hands, and spreads his buttocks wider. Johnny moans.

Johnny's hole is puffy. It winks at Daniel as he takes in the swollen skin, stretched and sticky with lube.

"You want this, huh?" Daniel marvels, letting one finger, then two slide into that blood hot opening. Johnny gurgles, nodding frantically as Daniel slides in a third. And then because Daniel's only human, he slicks up his cock and replaces his fingers with his cock.

Turns out Johnny's loud, he screams and gasps on each stroke until Daniel finally flips him over on his back. Then Daniel covers that pink mouth with his own, swallowing those needy little moans as he drives his cock into Johnny's sweet virgin ass.

It becomes a standing Friday appointment, Johnny even sends him a calendar invite that says Fill me up Fridays. Which is awful whichever way you look at it, but then he remembers Johnny a few months ago. How Johnny would stop himself and grab at his cross necklace. How he still wears it but sends awful texts with eggplant and cucumber emojis. And of course, the awful FMU Friday thing.

Daniel can't really bring himself to mind, FMU Fridays are fun after all

FILL ME UP FRIDAYS, HE SO WOULD

Daniel is also shocked at how filthy Johnny's mouth can get, Johnny says/texts the nastiest things to him (usually out of the blue) and Daniel loves it

"I want you to gag me with your dick🍆"

"I'm so lonely Mr Larusso :( my fingers aren't enough, I need your cock 💦"

"I'm still stretched from last night, wanna take advantage of that?"

"You should eat me out in one of these fancy cars, nobody will know, I'll be quiet..."

[stories-me]

Potential Character for Mrs. Kelsey and Tumblr 11-25-2022: 

 Jeremy Duncan, Would-Be Rock Musician: 

 What he’s from: Zits (a comic strip). 

Appearance: (See above). 

Stuff about him (from Wikipedia): 

Jeremy Michael Duncan is an intelligent, 17-year-old high school junior (earlier a 15-year-old freshman) who aspires to be a rock musician. He is named after Jeremy Clyde of the 1960s rock duo Chad and Jeremy (although one strip shows his parents named him after a lyric in “Joy to the World” by Three Dog Night, “Jeremiah was a bullfrog”) and was once mentioned to have an older brother named Chad, who is away in college. Jeremy spends much of his time with his friends and trying to impress love interest and part-time girlfriend, Sara Toomey. Jeremy was once told by his mother he was conceived to the Led Zeppelin song “Stairway to Heaven”. When not at school or with his friends, Jeremy is often embarrassed and/or lectured by his parents, Walt and Connie Duncan. For example: 

Jeremy: Mom, will you take me shopping? 

Connie: (with a tear) You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear those words come out of your mouth! 

Jeremy: To clarify: “Take me shopping” means I shop, and you wait in the car. 

He is shown as having an ability to tell who is calling on the telephone and for what reason when it rings (sometimes even before it rings), as when he told his mom to say hi to an aunt who hadn’t phoned for weeks, only to have the phone ring and Connie tell him to “stop that!”. 

He usually wears his purple shirt over a black T-shirt, blue jeans, and fat tongued Sneakers. He is also extremely tall, even when slouching. Jeremy spends time restoring a 1962 Volkswagen Type 2 van with his best friend Hector Garcia, which they hope to drive across the country when they turn 16. The van is in running condition but doesn’t run very well considering its age. Jeremy is also the lead singer and guitarist of his garage band, which goes by many names including “Chickenfist”, “Goat Cheese Pizza”, “Jughead’s Hat”, and “Angry Dwarfs”. In May 2017, his band received their first business engagement – a 6-year-old’s birthday party. It was after the band debuted in a Battle of the Bands competition that Jeremy received his first kiss from Sara and the relationship took off. Since then, Jeremy and Sara have gone through many arguments, breakups and reconciliations. For all of Jeremy’s flaws, however, he retains a high sense of morality and integrity as can be seen in the story arc where he steals a signpost with his name on it, only to return it to the police to free himself of the guilt he feels (although he uses Hector’s name when turning it over). On another occasion, Jeremy is overwhelmed by a school essay he has to write and all the other commitments he has made. A fellow student, Phoebe, suggests he use a website to pull a bootleg essay off the Internet. In the end, however, Jeremy’s sense of ethics overcomes the desire to plagiarize, and he spends the night writing the essay himself. In late-2000s strips, Jeremy received his learners’ permit. In September 2007 strips, Jeremy’s mother refers to his being a sophomore in high school. As of 2009 strips, Jeremy is claimed to be 16. On the August 23, 2009 strip, his driver’s license was shown. 

How he is like me: 

We both have ambitions and dreams (he wants to be a professional musician and I want to be a professional author), and have good hearts. We also both get told what to do by parents (which we both sometimes resent). We also have occasionally had trouble with criticism, but, for the most part, take it well. 

[pbandjesse]

I got my second rabies shot today. James says I have to stop joking about the rabiosexual Tumblr lore. But besides that microagresion today was a good day. My hand is moving better. I felt mostly good. It was a good day.

I slept alright last night. I had weird dreams and getting up was hard. But I got up and things were alright. My hand was able to flex more. And the wound on my palm wasn't looking as scary.

James walked me out to the car. And they biked to work. I went to get breakfast. And then drove out to camp.

It wasn't a bad ride. People keep driving crazy but no accidents were seen today. I just enjoyed my music and tried my best to wake up.

I got to camp and it was already hot. I am surprised we didn't hit the 100s because it was not comfortable. I was just sweaty all day. The air felt oppressive. Even up at arts where it is usually comfortable. But I tried to stay positive.

I was feeling better, despite the heat. I would get pretty nauseous for a while after taking the antibiotics, but I was in a good mood. I spent the first part of the day just getting set up. And sitting in my hammock until my first group.

All my groups were great today. I had two in the morning and two in the afternoon. And I have no real complaints. Though one child got really uspset when he didn't finish his art and was about to start scream crying when I said hey you can finish it at home and he was like. But I don't have this color pencil!!!! And I was like oh bet, you can just keep that. And instantly he stopped crying. His councilors acted like I was a wizard.

I wasn't in a rush to do anything today. I did catch up on my knitting. And worked on some bracelets. Did some prep for my classes. I enjoyed just watching the kids work, and it made me feel nice that they were all so into the project.

Candela, one of the international counselors, made me feel nice when she said she couldn't be a specialty counselor because it was just to much. And I was like. I feel like everyone thinks I'm lazy so it makes me feel nice to be recognized for all the prep and planing and stuff that goes into my groups. Cause even if it looks like I'm just chilling, I can do that because I have done so much work.

I had an extra hour break this morning so even though I was to hot I did walk to the office to get a new power strip for the sewing machine we are using next week. And checked in about a few other things before heading to the dining hall.

I used the wifi to get theme stuff ready for next week. And at this point in the day I was feeling pretty nauseous and not great. Just wanted to lay my head down. But I still helped a little getting lunch ready. And enjoyed eating with Laura. I also got to give her and Ibti their pottery and they seemed really excited about them so that was nice.

I went back to arts for my last two programs. And it was a nice afternoon. I had an older girl group at the end of the day and I brought my birthday book and we read some people's zodiacs and horoscopes and it was just a really nice time. They were so goofy and it made me feel happy.

I was excited to get to go home though. I had to get back home to wait for James so we could go get my next vaccine.

I was pretty tired driving home. I had made my little caffeine drink and it helped but I was struggling. I made it home safely but it was hard.

James wasn't home yet so I laid in bed until they got back and after they changed their shirt we went to the ER.

We had to wait a little longer but we were only there for an hour and a half total. We got a parking space right out front and they were very kind. We did not get to be in the fancy room but that was alright.

The staff thought we were funny. James forgot their phone and so they were just telling me facts about ancient Rome. When the nurse was getting the shot ready she was laughing at us because we were being so silly. Saying I could tough any raccoon I want now. And she also said we were very cool when we said we work in musuem. But James had questions about how the medication worked and why it was named something and we were just having to much fun.

The doctor also looked at my hand and she said the reason it has been curling is probably because the tendon was punctured! That was probably the sound/feeling I experienced and so now I have to keep an eye on that because that could be a highway for infection. Wild. But she said it looked like it was healing well right now. Made me feel a lot more secure.

Turns out I don't have to go back until Sunday and then again the following Sunday. So that is nice I guess. More time to get my wound checked on will make me feel good about how it's doing. But in the meantime they said soaking it in the saline water solution was a good plan and that we were doing a good job. I said we are first aid certified!

We had to wait 15 minutes after the shot. I set a timer. And we sat on the end scrolling through James's Twitter feed on my phone. And then we were free.

We went and got groceries. I got James to buy a plant. Everything was so expensive but we got snacks and things to try. I got the last peanut butter on the shelf. We did our best.

We got home and James made me a cheese plate with watermelon. And we worked on making posters for the wedding. A timeline poster (instead of a program), and started designing the seating chart. We have decided we needed mascots for the posters. They are only slightly silly. It was the most excited I have felt though so I'm holding onto it.

I would sort out my camp clothes. I brought all of my clothes home and decided on what I haven't worn yet and put that away. I refolded everything I would be bringing back and I feel good about the choices. Won't feel as overwhelmed anymore I hope.

Eventually, after laying down for a bit, I got a shower. And put medicine on my psoriasis and my hand and now we are in bed.

I hope tomorrow isn't as hot. I hope you all sleep great and have a fun day tomorrow. Take care of each other. Goodnight!!

[adamantpigeon]

Ditching the Smartphone: My Experience So Far (Part I)

Today marks one month since I decided to ditch my iPhone, and I can confidently say that I don't regret it. First, let me explain why I made this decision before delving into how it has been working for me.

As someone addicted to online media, my typical morning routine consisted of waking up and mindlessly scrolling through YouTube Shorts or similar platforms for hours. Consequently, I often ended up running late for work without having breakfast or completing any other tasks I intended to do before heading to the office. A bad start to the day usually meant a bad day, particularly when my plans revolved around work, work, and more work.

The constant availability and expectation of being reachable by everyone was driving me crazy. You might suggest using the Do Not Disturb (DND) mode, and I did try that. However, even with my minor case of self-diagnosed OCD, I would disable DND just to check if anything urgent had come up "just in case". Most of the time, there was nothing important, but the underlying tension never left, and I remained perpetually conscious of it.

It's astonishing how many functions the iPhone replaces, but for me, that's not necessarily a positive thing. I appreciate having distinct devices with single purposes. When you have a camera, you focus solely on taking photos. With a smartphone, it's incredibly easy to get distracted and lose sight of your original intention, especially when taking notes or reading. I choose to embrace the real deal.

Those are my primary reasons for ditching the smartphone. Ultimately, it all comes down to self-control, something I've always struggled with. Given my naturally paranoid nature, I tend to approach things with a strict "yes" or "no" mentality; the gray areas rarely work for me.

Now, how did I replace my iPhone and manage to survive in the modern world?

Surprisingly, it's not as difficult as it seems. All you really need to do is find physical alternatives to the apps you used and match their functionalities. There were a few challenges along the way, such as Uber, for example. Fortunately, I always carry an iPod Touch with me. I purposefully stripped it of all unnecessary apps, leaving only Uber and essential media apps like Spotify, Audible, and Podcasts. Since the iPod Touch is a Wi-Fi-only device, it stays offline unless I need to download new music (which is rare), and its older model and slower speed discourage me from using it for media browsing, I've managed to keep myself in check.

But what if I find myself in an emergency situation and need internet access? Well, I've got that covered too. I acquired one of those 4G KaiOS phones that come with a hotspot feature. They may be laggy and slow, making it highly unlikely for me to use them unless absolutely necessary, but they are sufficient for my needs.

In the future, I'll delve deeper into this topic, but I encourage you not to be afraid of trying new things. Just as it's possible to survive without a car, you can also survive without a smartphone. Both choices have their physical and mental health benefits.

[qtsickchiq]

ONLY YOU

with Haitani Rindou

“What have you done this time Rin?” You asked with a serious tone glaring at the younger brother of the Haitani who is currently sitting in the opposite of you.

You are surprised when you heard about the news. You knew something would happen in that Kantou incident but this exceeds your expectations. You make some time to visit the Haitani brothers at the Juvenile Centre.  

Rindou has his usual bored expression on his face. “It’s none of your business y/n.”

“So this is how you’re speaking to me now huh?” You mumbled under your breath, gaze trailing down to the man in front of you. The young man let out a loud sigh as a response to yours.

“You know what Rin? I’ve enough. Let’s end this.” You whimpered, your fist tighten around your dress.

He raises a brow, trying to catch the things you were saying. “What nonsense are you spitting out now?” He let out frustrated chuckles.

“I don’t see any way we are going to work.”

“Stop, you can’t leave me. Not now.” He hissed, slamming both of his hands on the table.

“Rin, this is not going to work! You don’t even give a damn about me, about our future. Have you ever thought of me in that brain of yours?” You wail as the tears start rolling down on your cheeks. He flinches back, his eyes widen at your words. He was at a loss for words. It’s true, he know it himself. He knows damn well.

You looked at him, teeth gritted, frustration clear in your eyes. “As I thought, let’s end this. I can’t keep waiting for you like this.”

He tried to grab your hand but you end up slapping his hand away. “I’m sorry please- please don’t leave me.” He whimpers. He lowers his head and his eyes were teary, hands slightly trembling.

“I love you Rin, I love you so fucking damn much that it’s hurting me. I just want you to give a damn about me for once.” You murmur as you slowly getting up from your chair, wiping away the tears on your cheeks using both of your sleeves.

“I know.”

That was the last time he saw you. He hadn’t seen you at all for the past years. It’s been years but he still gets dreams of you. He missed you so much. He missed your soft-spoken voice when you talks to him, your sweet laugh when you laugh at his boring jokes, your honey sweet lips when it touch his. The thoughts of you linger in and out of his mind. He regrets everything he has done to you before.

He can’t stop loving you. Believe him, he tried. He lies awake every night, trying to think of ways to get you out of his mind. But he fails every time. He tried looking for you several times before but you keep on avoiding him. He still waits for you days by days even until today.  

“Rindou, what are spacing out now? Come on, let’s enjoy the drinks. ” A voice greeted his ears and snapping him out of his pondering. Sanzu give a curious stare at him, brows knitted together before a grin emerged on his face. “Come on.” Rindou shrugs, running his fingers through his hair while following his friends from behind. Many years have passed from the incident and he’s in Bonten now. Sanzu drag him away as he passes him a bottle of alcohol.

With the loud music booming at every corner of the club, Rindou can’t help but to let out a sigh. His eyes are wandering around the club. He leaned back at his seat, having his second drink of the night. That is until he could catch a glimpse of you. What the fuck. You walk briskly to the dance floor in your low cut red silk dress draped around your body. You raised softly curved arm, and a myriad of gold bangles jangled to the rhythm of the mounting beat. You are dancing along to the music with a glass of wine in your hand. He keeps his gaze trailing down to you, not noticing the ways the other Bonten members are staring at him.

The older Haitani brother raises a brow, clicking his tongue. “Hey what’s wrong Rindou?” He was only greeted with silence from his younger brother. Rindou plopped down in a chair, his intense gaze fixed on you. Ran turns his head to look at the way his little brother is looking, his lips slowly curving up into a smile as he realizes the things that are bothering his brother “Oh is that y/n?” A loud laugh erupted from Ran.

Rindou shrugs it off as he leaned back at his seat. He flicks the lighter in his hand and watch the tip of his cigarette ignite as he inhale it and blow the heavy smoke from his mouth. It has been years and you are still able to catch his attention from everything. The most beautiful creature he has seen in his entire life. His steady gaze on you gave no indication of what else was on his mind. Fuck, he misses you. He wants to touch you. He wants to stroke your cheeks once again, while looking into your lustrous eyes. But he understands that you hate him now. He doesn’t want to be a bother in your life again. He hurts you once. The last time he made you cry was something he doesn’t want to remember ever again. All Rindou could do was to stare at you as you drown yourself deeper in the glass of wine, giggling. Everything felt so heavy to him.

That is until he notices that there’s a group of men staring at you with their lustful eyes as they are laughing to themselves near the bar. They are pissing him off. He tightened his grip slightly when he saw the men start making their way towards you. Without a second thought, Rindou clears his throat as he stands up from his seat, slowly walking towards you. His hands touched your waist and then he slipped his arms around you from behind and drew your back against his chest. You are too drunk to notice. He shot them a glare.

One of the men yells, “Hey! What the hell?”

“Don’t even think about it” He bits the inside of his cheek, trying to suppress his anger.

“Huh?”

His jaw clenched. “Don’t even think about touching my woman.” His voice is harsh and cold. He harshly grips your wrist, pulling you away from the creepy men. His eyes are flashing anger.

Your lips parted for a second trying to recall the man that is fully dressed in suit. You winced when you recognize him. “Wa-wait…hic…Rindou??”

“Let’s go.” He grumbles under his breath. He pulls you closer as he walks out from the club heading to where he parked his car. You try to jerks your hand away, but his grip is stronger than yours.

“I don’t… I don’t know if I… hic… if I wanna go…?” You mumble to yourself before you stumble forward losing your own balance. Rindou quickly catch you in his arms. He let out a heavy sigh.

“You had enough. Let’s go.” Picking your unconscious self in bridal style, he gently places you in his car.

The moment you blinks your eyes you were already in an unfamiliar bedroom. Your ears perked up from Rindou’s voice, you take a glance to see the man standing right next to a window talking to his phone. He already changes from his suits that he was wearing at the club earlier to a comfy black t-shirt and grey sweatpants.

A deep furrow ran across his forehead, “Yeah, I already went home. There’s something I have to take care of. See you tomorrow, brother.” He ends the call, placing the phone in his pocket.

You sat up in the bed and look around, with your hand rubbing your head to ease the throbbing in you temples, “Rindou? What’s happening here?” You clutch the comforter to your chest.

“I didn’t lay a finger on you.”

You flinch as you hurriedly look over yourself underneath the comfy comforter. Yes, you are still fully clothes. Rindou let out a loud sigh as he passed you a glass of water.

“Um, thank you for saving me.”  You mumble under your breath. His lazy eyes are staring straight to you. You took a sip of the drink.

He scoffs, “Don’t bother.” He makes his way to a chair beside the bed. “Who the hell think it’s a good idea to drink more than you can handle?” He asked, placing both of his hands in his pockets.

You shot him a glare. Ah! Now you remembered. You were at the club earlier with you friends celebrating the promotion you just got from work. Rindou suddenly stands up from his chair, making his way towards the huge wardrobe in that bedroom. You turn your head to stare at the man who is busy looking for something in the wardrobe. He did change a lot huh. You push the thought from your mind as you can see him coming towards you. He passed you a new freshly clothes.

“Wear this. I don’t think you’re comfortable enough in that shitty dress anyway.”

You narrowed your brows at him. “Excuse me sir? This dress is beautiful okay.”

“Well seems like to me you couldn’t even breathe in that dress.” His brows knitted together, pointing his finger to your dress. Rindou admits to himself that you do look gorgeous in that dress but none of it matters at this moment. He only wants you to be comfortable enough.

You shrug, “Fine.” You grab the clothes from him as you stripping yourself, taking off the silk dress from your body. Rindou roll his eyes as he turns his head away from the sight. You glance down at the shirt that is way too big for you as you sniff it, you can smell his scent there.

You took a deep breath as you turn your head to face him. “So how are you doing now?”

“M'doing fine.” He mutters to himself.

You frown, clicking your tongue.  “What are you doing now?”

“Nothing.” He murmurs as he place a cigarette in the corner of his mouth, his long fingers then searched inside the nightstand and finally emerged with a match.  He lights up a cigarette in his mouth, blowing the heavy smoke out.

You waited for his reply in tense silence, but his response filled you with equal anger. You shot a glare at him. “Rin, I’m talking to you. At least make some efforts in replying.”

“I am.”

You glare at him with frustration clears in your eyes, teeth gritted. “Fuck off!” You curse as you plops yourself on the bed yanking the comforter over your body. You turn your face away avoiding his stare.

Rindou raises a brow at your sudden outburst. He puts out his cigarette as he slowly scoots over to sit next to you. “Language babe, anyway where have you been all these time?”

“Home duh.” You replied sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

“I’m serious now y/n.” He hissed, grabbing your wrist forcing you to face him. His brow knitted together.

“Oh now you know how to communicate properly. Why the hell do you care about me anyway?”

He slammed you down with him being on top of you. Both of his hands stay on the side of your head supporting him. “Because I was fucking looking for you, you dumb woman.” His body stays in between your legs.

You wince as you tried to escape from his grasp, “You what?”

He places his head on his palm, trembling as he stared down at you. Tears burned his eyes and his lower lip trembled, “I was looking for you all these years y/n.”

You scoff, “What the hell are you saying now? I told you we won’t work!” You tried to push him away. Your eyes were filling with tears.

His troubled gaze came back to your face, pacing from your eyes to your lips. “I don’t fucking care. I’ll make it work. I can’t live like this y/n.”

“How the hell you want to make us work if you don’t even give a damn about me before?” The tears are spilling past your eyes as you sob.

“I care about you y/n!” He grabbed your shoulders, pulling you roughly against him and kissed you in a demanding way that roused more anger than anything else. You flinch as you push away from his grip.

“LIAR!!” You scream pulling away to glare at him with tear-filled eyes as you wipe your lips with you hand. “Don’t you dare lie to me in front of my face? You barely made time for me before. Where were you when I need you the most? All you think about is your gang shits and fighting alongside your brother! Have you ever thought of me? How long do you expect me to wait for you?” You began to cry, you sob muffled as you leaned forward against your arms, hugging your knees.

His heart instantly drops to his stomach. “I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry. I fucking love you, babe.” He slowly lowered his head, gathering you gently in his arms. He pulled you closer in an embrace. “I love you, y/n. I love you so fucking much that it hurts me so freaking bad to not being able to stay by your side. I’m sorry, please forgive me. I miss you so fucking bad. Let me fix this and I know we weren’t perfect but I’ve never felt this way for no one. I care about you. I fucking do. Just for once, please trust me this time.” His warm lips brushed your forehead, peppering it with kisses. Lips quivering as the tears flow from his eyes. You bury your face in his chest.

Your hands making your way to hold his back as you fall deeper in his embrace. “I can’t Rin, I’m married now.” You whispered in his ears.

He jolted away from you, eyes widened from your statement. He gripped your wrist hard, lowering his head to look at you, “You what?”

You let out a giggle, “I’m just joking, you silly.”

He sigh, “That’s a dumb joke, I was about to kill your husband if it’s true.” He frowned as he releases his grip from your wrist turning his head away from you. His lips pressed in thin line.

“Sorry~” Your eyes brimmed with tears of mirth and the smile tugging your lips broke into a grin. You place your hand gently on his hand to pull him back in your embrace. An annoyance huff could be heard as he nuzzling himself into your hair, sliding his fingers down to your hair. He leaned back in your grasp, staring straight into your eyes.

“Say do you still love me?”

“No.” You shook you head with a smirk plastered on your face.

He rolls his eyes,“Y/n…”

“Hold me?” You held your arms out, welcoming him in your embrace. “Of course I still love you, you dumb ass. How can I forget my boring high school sweetheart?” You chuckles as you strokes his hair and kisses his forehead.

He cuts you off, “Shut up.” He was sitting on the bed, legs spreading as he places his hands on the back of your thigh and pulls you forward him. He makes you sit down on his lap, inching his face closer to you.

“But you said you missed me earlier.”

“I do.” He slowly lowered his eyes as his lips touch yours. You surrendered yourself to his warm lips and secure embrace, clinging to him as your heart stepped up pace. He grabs his shirt from the back of his necks, and yanking it off over his head. “You’re mine”, his gaze trailing down to you and his warm lips kissed their way down your neck and across you shoulder. You both fall deeper into the warmth of each other.

You blinks your eyes, hours has passed. The birds are chirping and the sunlight is peaking through Rindou’s bedroom curtains. You can feel his warmth surrounding you as you can feel his arms around you. You leaned closer to him. You both are cuddling together under his comfy comforter. You glance at the clock showed 9 in the morning.

“Hey Rin~” You face the beautiful man that is snuggling closer next to you. Enjoying the sight before you, he is still half asleep. You brush your fingers to his face gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind his ears.

“Hm?” His voice is raspy from the sleepiness.

You huff your cheeks and lips forming a pout. “I’m hungry, let’s go out for a breakfast.”

His arm is sneaking around you waist gently to hold you closer to him, “M’no. Stay here with me.”

“But, I’m shooo huuungry~” You whines.

“I’ll cook for you later.”

“What?”

“I’ll cook you Katsudon, it’s your favourite right.” He stops, his eyes are wide open after realizing what he just said “Shit” He quickly covering his face with his hand, looking away from your stares to hide the light shade of pink on his cheeks.

You sat in confusion before it finally clicked. “Eh you still remember about that? I mean yes, it’s my favourite since high school. I can’t believe you still remember that.” Wide smile plastered on your face as you pulls his hand away from his face. “You love me that bad huh.”

“Shut up.” He cuts you off by dropping himself on top of you, nuzzling his face on your neck. He’s blushing red. You blink before letting out your giggles. You tried to suppress your giggling, but ended up bursting into laughter

You put a hand on your mouth as you laugh at him. “Say, do you truly love me?” You gently stroke his pinkish-purple mullet hair with your hand.

A scowl appeared on Rindou’s face as he glances at you. “I said it already yesterday.” He mumbles to himself, sighing into your neck and ignoring the fluttering of his heart.

“Come onnnn say it again.” You chime, grinning at him. “Say it.” You giggle softly staring at him as your fingers gently tracing the tattoo on the left side of his naked body.

He let out a loud sigh as he gently pulls your wrist making you face him. He leans his forehead to yours.  He smiles as one of his arm trailing down to wrap around your waist to bring you closer to him. The other hand of his is gently brushing your cheek. “I love you y/n, I love you so fucking much and trust me I won’t ever let you go ever again. You are my one and only. ” You both giggle as you both dozing off in each other’s arms.

yours truly @qtsickchiq​​

[erodasfishtacos]

Not So Easy

prompt: Harry and Y/N have both had a rough week. Ivy is in the prime of her terrible twos. It’s a disaster waiting to happen.

word count: 6.2k

warnings: swearing, smut, a little angst

AN: Fulfilling this request ***. This is part of the CEO!Harry verse. If you enjoy please like, reblog, and come chat with me about it x 

*** <--- click for visuals

-----

It was a gorgeous, cool Saturday evening and Y/N had been cooped up in the house all week due to nasty rainstorms that lasted the whole week. All of Y/N’s friends had canceled plans for one reason or another. Anne came down with flu and couldn’t visit like she was suppose to.

Harry had an extra awful week at work - which was saying something - and hadn’t been able to let it go. The frustration and irritation he usually was good at leaving at the office at the end of the workday hadn’t been happening.

Ivy was in the midst of her terrible twos and quite frankly it was disaster for all of them.

They decided on one of their favorite restaurants about an hour outside of London near the beautiful, green countryside. ***

It was a family-owned Italian establishment with outside seating on the patio. The tables were filled but Harry always managed to squeeze himself into a non-existent reservation with his charm (and wallet).

When they’re escorted onto the deck, Ivy had Harry hitched up on his hip and wriggles her into her wooden high-chair with little difficulty - she had just woken up from a nap and was in a seemingly okay mood.

Y/N notices a few pairs of eyes watching them from the table close to theirs but decided that she was just being paranoid. And if she brought it up to Harry she knows he’d immediately tell them to fuck off and mind their business. 

They get Ivy settled with her favorite little sensory book and her plush baby doll ***, as they look at the menu, “I’m so hungry,” Y/N grumbles, unable to decide what she wants to eat, Ivy literally running her around all day with no time for refueling.

“Me too, y’didn’t let me finish my meal earlier,” Harry murmurs cheekily, looking at his wife over his menu with a raised eyebrow, “Guess I’ll just have to wait for dessert.”

“Baba’s asleep, she was out as soon as her head hit the pillow,” Harry tells his wife, trotting in their bedroom. He’s already stripping the shirt off his head and wriggling his running shorts down his narrow hips.

Y/N’s laying on the bed, too distracted by her romance novel to notice Harry’s actions - well until he yanks at her ankles until her bum skids towards the end of the bed, she lets out a surprise yelp at her husband’s strength.

He plucks the book from her hands and tosses it to the floor with a thump. His hands are hurriedly reaching to pull down her shorts and panties with impatience at having his wife bare before him.

“Someone’s a bit horny,” Y/N teases, raising her hips to let him slide them down before they join the book on the floor. He ducks down to bite at the soft skin of her hip bone, suckling a dark mark there in ownership.

“Have y’seen yourself, pet?” Harry replies lowly, unable to help himself as he dips down and swipes a long, languid lip up her center with no warning. It has her moaning and pushing herself into his mouth.

“We don’t have long, H. Need you in me,” His wife whines, pulling him up by his hair until he’s slipping his tongue right into her mouth, wasting no time to hike her hips up around his waist and pushing in with one strong, directive thrust.

Y/N blushes and darts her eyes back down to the menu, “If you’re good, maybe I’ll let you.”

Harry laughs, eyes wrinkling around the corners, “Y’know even when I’m not good, y’let me.”

It was very very true.

“Oops!” Ivy squeals when her doll falls to the ground. It was one of the new words she’s finally understood in context and it’s unbelievably cute to hear her high, little squeaky voice.

“S’alright, here you go bab,” Harry titters, reaching down to toss it back onto the table for his daughter. She looked so fucking adorable tonight in what Y/N had dressed her in a little Gucci jean jacket with matching jeans. ***

Ivy manages to keep herself pretty occupied until she needs a diaper change. The meals had just arrived, steaming hot and smelling like heaven, but Y/N slings their diaper bag over her shoulder and totes the baby off to the bathroom.

Harry watches them, like the protector he is until they make it to the bathroom safely. He can sense eyes on him (the same group Y/N thought was watching) but unlike his wife, Harry makes eye contact with the table who were staring directly at his wife and then him.

“Can I fuckin’ help you?” Harry asks bluntly, not hesitating to stare down every single person at the table. He didn't want anyone staring at them, staring at Y/N, staring at Ivy. He wanted to enjoy his dinner in peace with his family. He assumed they probably worked for him.

They avert their gaze from the intense man, acting nonchalantly and sipping at their glasses filled with wine as if they weren’t just staring at them. It makes Harry scoff loudly enough so that they can hear it.

When Y/N appears back with Ivy and attempts to plop her back into her seat, her limbs go wiggly and her eyebrow knits with refusal, letting out little kicks, “No mummy, no!”

“Baby, we’ve got to eat now. How ‘bout after we’re done?” Y/N hums in her daughter’s ear, attempting to steady the toddler’s legs to slide into the slots of the chair. 

Y/N knew it was going to be a struggle since Y/N told Ivy she couldn’t have the big stuffed animal that was in the gift shop on the way to the bathroom.

“Mummy! Don’t wanna!” Ivy protests loudly, her face pinched with her terrible twos anger as she squirms and twists in her mother’s grip.

“S’okay, give her to me,” Harry tells his wife, taking Ivy in his lap. She smiles with deep dimples up at her father before going to reach her little fingers into his pasta. “No, Ivy. S’hot, it’s goin’ to burn you.”

Ivy pulls her brows together, decidedly not liking what her dad had to say, because she’s reaching out once again. “Ivy, daddy said ‘no’. Be a good girl and listen.”

“Mine.” Oh god, her favorite word at the moment.

“Ivy Elizabeth, s’not yours. S’daddy’s. Mummy ordered you chicken, which she very nicely cut up for you. You need to eat that, lovie,” Harry uses a bit of a firmer voice with the little girl, pulling her plate of cubed of food over.

“Here, bub,” Y/N takes a small piece, bringing it up to her daughter’s full lips. Only to be met with a hand batting it away until it’s being flung limply to the wood floor with a screech.

“No, want that,” Ivy huffs, once again reaching for her father’s steaming plate. She’s nearly close to getting her finger into the burning sauce so Harry has to scoot his chair out a bit so she can’t reach it anymore.

The parents give each other a knowing look because of what is surely about to come. The baby was struggling with being told ‘no’ as of late, as well as claiming nearly everything as ‘mine’. Tantrums were in their prime right now and they thought the pre-dinner nap would have helped.

Spoiler Alert: It doesn’t.

When Ivy realizes she’s no longer able to reach the food, she furrows her brow and pulls back her little fist, hitting at her father’s shoulder. It wasn’t often she tried to hit, likely because most times it landed her on the step for two minutes, but it’s like she knew they couldn’t do that here.

“Ivy,” Harry takes her small hands between his, “We do not hit, do you understand Daddy? S’not nice. If you can’t behave, you’re not getting ice cream before we go home.”

At that point, the little girl would normally calm down a bit and readjust because she really loved ice cream but it didn’t do anything to quell her anger tonight. She shakes her head, curly hair bouncing, before the tears start rolling.

“Should we just get this to go?” Y/N asks, knowing that the whole restaurant doesn’t want to hear the sobbing baby throwing a fit over not being able to dig her hands into her father’s dinner plate. 

“Probably best,” Harry grunts when Ivy wriggles and twists in her father’s grip with a frustrated whine, “She’s not goin’ to settle.”

“Down, let me down!” Ivy demands against her father’s grip, like she’s the one running the show. 

“Here, give her to me,” Y/N mutters, wrangling the toddler into a tight hold while Harry gets the waiter’s attention to get take away boxes and the check. He’s pulling out his wallet to slide out his black amex and put it on the table.

“Ivy, I’m going to put you down so I can get the diaper bag and your toys. Are you going to stay right next to mummy?” Y/N asks her daughter firmly, making sure her daughter’s little green eyes are meeting hers. 

Ivy nods but as soon as her feet hit the solid ground, she lets out a giggle and dashes from beside her mother. She doesn’t get very far because she’s running straight into the legs of another patron and tumbling on her bum.

She’s not at all hurt but takes it as an advantage to throw herself onto the floor, screaming and tears - the whole dramatic show because she’s not getting her way and well....she’s a two year old - that’s all the reason she needs, right?

Harry’s in full dad mode now, “I’ll get her to the car. Y’got this, love?”

Y/N nods, sighing at the loss of their nice dinner as her daughter has all eyes directed on their family - the last thing she wanted to happen. But she just focuses on shoveling the still hot foot into the plastic containers to take home.

“S’enough of that, Ivy. This isn’t how we act, hmm?” Harry hums, pulling his daughter off the floor and into his arms  - “What’s gotten into you, bug?”

Ivy sniffles, knuckling at her wet eyes,  “Home, daddy.”

“We’re taking you home, don’t you worry,” Harry chuckles, smiling softly when she tucks her head into the crook of his neck, thumb finding her lips. His large palm came to rub at her back and bounce her lightly.

When Y/N finally gets everything together, one of the waitresses - an older woman, stops by the table, “How old is your daughter?”

Y/N smiles, “Just turned two a month ago.”

The grey lady has a kind, knowing grin on her face, “What an age, huh? She looks like a little replica of your husband.”

The girl laughs, they can’t go anywhere without hearing that from someone, “Oh, believe me. They have the same attitude too,” She jokes, slinging the bag over her shoulder.

“I wish you two luck. Two is a very hard age, I have five kids of my own. Just appreciate it, even though the tantrums are a pain in the arse,” She says, patting Y/N on the shoulder before heading back to a table who was waiting on her.

---

Both the parents were frustrated, more so than they usually are with Ivy’s tantrums. They thought she’d simmer down once they’d gotten home but it had just revved up again when she realized she really wasn’t getting any ice cream.

“Shouldn’t have even promised her ice cream in the first place,” Y/N mutters with frustration as they stand near the staircase. Ivy sat on the step for two minutes in timeout, kicking her little feet against the marble.

“Right, because I knew she’d decide to have tantrums all night,” Harry shoots back, matching his wife’s tone. The screaming was echoing through the house, high-pitched and it just made you want to cover your ears from it.

Y/N rolls his eyes at him, motioning towards their daughter, “Well, this is your doing because you reminded her that she wasn’t getting it. You deal with it, I’m going to shower.”

“You’re not doing much to help anyways,” Harry hisses, their voices both low so that their daughter doesn’t hear - not like she would over the screaming match she’s having with herself. 

They rarely fought to be honest. This wasn’t even a fight - really. It was hard raising a two year old and they were learning as they went along. The couple was good at communication and working through their problems most of the time.

“I’m not doing much to help?” Y/N asks in disbelief, “Then if I’m no help at all, why don’t you put her down for bed? You don’t need me, obviously.”

Harry narrows his eyes at her, his hand gripping the railing with a hard grip, “Don’t go twistin’ my words, that’s not what I said. Now you’re just lookin’ for a fight.”

“Yeah, because on top of a fussy two year old - I want to deal with a childish husband. I’m surprised you're not on the stairs, cryin’ about ice cream too with how you’re acting,” Y/N laughs - the sound crawling under Harry’s skin with irritation at her fake carefree attitude when she’s just as annoyed as him.

“You’re being an even bigger brat than our daughter right now,” Harry tells her, trying to keep his voice at a low volume but it comes out louder than intended. He felt himself straighten up and kept direct eye contact with his wife.

Y/N’s lips form into a tight line before gritting out, “Do not raise your voice at me. We agreed that no matter how frustrated we got we wouldn’t do that in front of our daughter.”

“Then don’t act so immature, ever think of tha’?” Harry bites, hating the he hears his work voice being directed at his wife when he never wants that. 

“How am I being immature? You promised her something that she didn’t get, then reminded her that she’s not getting it. I’m allowed to be frustrated with you!” Y/N whisper-shouts, Ivy is now distracted by taking her little shoes off and watching them tumble down the stairs.

“I have so many better things I could be doing right now than stand here and fight with you over our daughter having a stupid tantrum. I’ll be in my office,” Harry replies, because when he doesn’t know what to do and refuses to admit he’s wrong - he falls back to his best excuse, work.

And he automatically regrets it when he sees a flash of hurt cross his wife’s face. Harry wants to swallow back those words and wrap his wife up into a hug. Never wanting to make her feel like his work is worth more of his time.

Deep down, they both know she knows that it’s not the truth but in the midst of the fight it doesn’t sting any less. He opens his mouth to apologize, to tell her that he’d rather put their daughter to bed together any night than be in his office.

But he can tell she’s already past the point of being pissed when she replies calmly, “I’ll put our baby to bed. Go work on whatever is more important than us, Mr. Styles.”

Harry wants to reach out and grab at her arm, tug her into his chest, and murmur in her hair how much he loves her more than anything. He said that because he knows it’s hurtful and it’s his only way to win an argument with her.

However, she’s moving up the stairs, scooping the somewhat calmed down baby into her arms and trudging up  without another look at her still brooding husband.

Harry hears Ivy shout back down the stairs, “Daddy, come on!” 

He hears his wife tell his daughter, “Daddy’s too busy with work, Ivy. S’just mummy.”

But that has Harry absolutely fuming, storming up the stairs after then, “Do not make it seem like I’m ever too busy for my daughter. That’s completely uncalled for, Y/N.”

Y/N doesn’t turn back to face him, instead keeps walking, and says with a monotone voice, “Oh, but you just said you had better things to be doing than dealing with your family. So go take care of your work, hot shot. I’ll take care of our daughter.”

“Why are you making it seem like I put my work before Ivy? I’ve literally never let that happen and you know that. You’re blowing this whole thing out of proportion because Ivy’s been having tantrums and you can’t put on your big girl pants and deal with them.”

That’s when Y/N spins around on her heel, letting Ivy down and encouraging her to go play in her room for a little before bedtime. Her face is turning red - which rarely happens unless they’re really about to get in an argument. 

“Big girl pants? Really, I’m at home dealing with her tantrums twenty-four seven. You get to come home from work and only deal with it half on the time. Do not act like you know how stressful it is to stay at home with a toddler in their terrible twos all day.”

“Do not act like it’s harder than running a multi-billion pound business,” Harry scoffs, his voice becoming lower with frustration with an argument that was going nowhere. He had a cocky lift to his voice that made her want to scream.

“Oh, because it’s so difficult half the time?  Last week, you got to go on your private jet to Paris for three days for business aka dinner and golfing while I sat at home alone!” Y/N raises her voice, angry tears forming over her lids.

“Sat in our 35 million pound house with a pool, playground, plenty of shops in town, unlimited money doesn’t sound like a hardship, love,” Harry replies, jaw clenching but his fingers itching to brush the tears away.

“You know what? It’s Sunday tomorrow. I’m going out. You watch her for the whole fucking day and see how easy it is. For now, enjoy the guest room,” Y/N spits out, storming down the hall to Ivy’s room to get her ready for bed.

“With pleasure,” He tells her, retreating back into his office and slamming the door. He wasn’t a fucking inadequate father. 

He never put work before his family. He knew it wasn’t easy being at home and as soon as he sat his arse in his leather chair - he realized what a douchebag he was being to his stressed out wife. 

Harry didn’t want to sleep in the guest room, he wanted to be spooned up next to his wife, whispering apologies for letting the stress of the week get to him. Remind her what an amazing partner and mum she is to him. How lucky he is.

The issue was - Harry had pride issues. He wasn’t one to admit defeat even when he should. He thrived on challenges so he was eager to show his wife that he’d have no problem taking on his terrible twos daughter.

He sneaks into his daughter’s room after she’s fast asleep in her crib, checking on her to make sure she’s okay before hesitantly entering their bedroom where his wife is fast asleep but a pile of clean clothes for him on the floor tells him she was serious about him sleeping in the guest room.

It was torture, not being able to be in the same bed as his wife. The love of his life. He thought about it multiple times - going in and groveling but his stubborn brain wouldn’t allow it. After such a long week, he was looking forward to sleeping in and his head hit the pillow in no time.

--

“Rise and shine,” His wife's voice wakes him up, it wasn’t with her normally cheery tone but with the same irritation as the night before. She definitely hadn’t magically forgiven him yet - dammit. Her voice is nearly drowned out by a fussy curly-haired baby.

“Wha’s wrong?” Harry grunts, sitting up to see Ivy still in her pajamas with sheet wrinkles across her face. Skin pink and warm from her nice, peaceful sleep. 

However, she decided to wake up today with a massive chip on her shoulder.

“Ivy’s upset because she can’t find her ballerina doll,” Y/N replies.

 Harry notices she is already fully dressed *** and made up for the day. “Might want to get up and help her find it. I’m heading out  like we agreed on.”

“Fine,” Harry replies with a tight lip, rubbing his eyes as he’s still half asleep. “Y’look pretty.”

“Thanks,” Y/N replies nonchalantly, leaning over to kiss Ivy on the forehead, “I’ll see you later bug, I love you.”

Ivy looks at her mother in betrayal as she leaves Harry to manage their little ball of fury. He tries to tug her in for a big, warm hug but she shrieks and screams at her father, “Ballerina!”

“Ssh, okay. We’ll go look for y’ballerina, dove. No need to yell, s’too early,” Harry grumbles, sitting up and automatically being pulled by the hand off the bed to search for this doll that could be anywhere in this thousands upon thousands of square foot home.

After extensive searches, Harry realizes that he’d left it on the roof of the car when he was tucking her into her carseat last night. The cute little plush doll is now mostly likely roadkill on the country stretch.

“Ivy, y’literally got a whole room dedicated to stuffed animals and dolls. Let’s go pick somethin’ from there, yes?” Harry tries, his daughter’s arms crossed and glaring at Harry like he had just killed her hopes and dreams.

“No! No!” The toddler absolutely wails, plopping her little diaper-clad bum on the ground before kicking her feet against the marble. She had herself worked up until her cheeks were cherry red and tears were staining her shirt.

Harry couldn’t lie - he’d only been watching her for about two hours and he was starting to feel anxiety creep up in his throat over what to do. It wasn’t that he couldn’t parent her, but it was a lot of crying and he hated seeing her upset.

“Why don’t we go eat some breakfast? Does that sound good, lovie?” Harry offers hopefully, having to contain a laugh at how much she looks like him when he’s angry. The little crease between her eyes, the green in her eyes sparkling a little darker than usual.

Her eyes peek up at her father, “Yes, Daddy.”

Harry sighs in relief, scrubbing at hand down his face, taking her into the kitchen, strapping her in the highchair before whipping up some cheesy eggs for her.

When he puts down the plate in front of her, he has to say she’s surprised when she slaps it off the tray and onto the floor, spilling everywhere. “No, want mummy’s breakfast.”

Her father looks at her with a comically bewildered expression before turning on his dad voice, “We do not throw things on the ground. Do you understand me, Ivy Elizabeth?”

Her full little lips are drawn into a tight pout as she tosses her baby fork on the ground to join the still warm eggs in a heap.  

“Mummy’s breakfast.”

The scolding goes in one ear and out the other, she doesn’t acknowledge her father but continues on her demands.

He caves after trying to no avail to decipher what ‘mummy’s breakfast’ means.

Ivy threw her eggs on the ground. She’s demanding mummy’s breakfast.

She’s hated eggs for the past two weeks now. Vanilla yogurt with diced strawberries and blueberries in her red baby bowl.

He does as she says, arranges a nice little bowl of yogurt with the fruit. He couldn’t find the red bowl so he substituted for a blue one. 

It results in the yogurt also being smacked to the ground. 

She threw that on the ground too.

Did you put it in a red bowl?

I couldn’t find it, just put it in a blue bowl

She only wants to eat breakfast out of red bowls right now

Harry groans, he didn’t know his daughter was this difficult about breakfast time. He was usually gone by the time she’d woken up for the day. Y/N usually let him sleep in a bit on the weekends until ten or so.

After digging for the specific red bowl, doing up her breakfast again - Ivy happily begins eating until it drips down her sleep clothes, rubbed all over her cheeks, and it even manages up in her tangled locks.

“S’that just so yummy, Vee?” Harry hums after she’s finished. “Looks like it’s bath time.”

He really should have guessed at this point when she shakes her head and squeaks, “No!”

“Yes, s’bathtime,” Harry says sternly, traipsing upstairs with the wriggling toddler who is doing everything in her power to fight against her father’s hold. 

“No, no, no. Ballerina,” Ivy brings it up again, making it a near impossible task for Harry to wrangle her out of her clothes and diaper. 

While he’s running the bath, she darts from the bathroom and through the hallways, right towards the grand staircase where the baby gate isn’t closed. Harry really really didn’t want to yell at his daughter but she could seriously get hurt.

“Ivy Elizabeth Styles, if you don’t get your little bum over to Daddy right now, you’re going on the step and y’not having playtime at all,” Harry orders loudly, but breathing a sigh of relief when his daughter skids in her tracks to a halt.

The little girl turns on her heels, eyes wide in fright at her dad’s raised voice - which rarely ever happened unless she really wasn’t listening. She begins to cry but not in her now typical anger-induced haze but in a legitimate sad wail.

His heart aches as his daughter toddles obediently back over to him with her little head hung low in regret, “Daddy, hold me?”

Harry can’t deny her so he scoops her up into the crook of his arm, “M’sorry for yellin’, bug. But y’need to be good for Daddy? You could have gotten really hurt and that would have made Daddy sad, okay?”

Her eyes are watery as she looks up at him, her hand curling around his neck before burying her still yogurt-sticky face into his skin, hiccuping with sad whines, “Sad Daddy.”

“Mhm, now are you going to be nice and get a bath f’me? Y’dirty, bubby,” Harry smiles down at her to brighten back up her mood and it works because her dimples pop out of her cheeks and she flashes her small blocky baby teeth.

Ivy surprisingly does well in the bathtub, allowing her father to get her all cleaned up until she accidentally opens her eyes and gets baby soap in them, it’s another round of tears that cannot be controlled.

Harry totes the sobbing toddler into a cute little Moschino onesie and brings her into their bedroom. He’s so fucking exhausted and it was barely noon. His stress level was near a hundred as he couldn’t keep her from being pissed off for more than twenty minutes at a time.

Luckily, it seems like the screaming and crying for the last how many hours had taken a toll on her because as soon as she sprawled on her stomach on Harry’s chest, she’s out like a light. The cutest small snores coming from her as she smacks her lips together while she dreams.

He gives her a few minutes to fall into a deeper sleep before tiptoeing her into her nursery and laying her very carefully into her crib. She doesn’t wake, just whimpers softly and turns on her side, away from her father.

When he’s sure she’ll be okay, he goes back into their bedroom, and well...he just breathes. He didn’t realize how high his anxiety had been up to this point and his whole morning had been nothing but trying to get his daughter calm. He didn’t even have one moment to think about himself.

It really wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate Y/N being a stay at home mum - of course, he did. He already knew how bloody amazing and strong she was as a person, he didn’t need this to prove what he already knew. It was his stubbornness to not decline a challenge and they both knew that was the case.

Y/N really didn’t think that Harry doubted her abilities. He nearly spent most of his days telling her how proud he was of her and her abilities as a partner and mum. It doesn’t mean it didn’t sting when he brought up his job compared to hers.

Harry’s in his own world of thoughts that he doesn’t notice a figure leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom, “You got everything under control, H?”

His eyes darted up to meet his wife’s, “Not really. She’s a little terror,” He jokes (kind of).

“It’s easy compared to your job, right?” Y/N asks but it’s obviously rhetorical. She drops a few shopping bags on the floor before leaning down to unstrap her high heels, kicking them off along with throwing off the blazer to the floor.

“I never said your job was easy. Y’puttin’ words in my mouth,” Harry argues, sitting up straight and moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

“No, you’re right. It’s just not as hard as your job,” Y/N huffs, unbuttoning the tight jeans and shucking them off her thighs. She didn’t have any idea what she was doing to him right now, his mouth nearly watering when her thighs jiggle a bit.

“You’re right, it’s not as hard as my job,” Harry replies, studying his wife’s face when she looks up in surprise - that he was really going to take the fight that far.

“Wow, you re-”

“It’s not as hard as my job, it’s harder,” Harry murmurs, reaching out to pull his wife to stand between his legs, her looking down at him with her hands on his shoulders. “

What I’m doin’ is nothin’ compared to your job. Y’raising our little baby, shaping her into a good person, spending every moment of y’day with her, giving up a lot of who you are for her. That’s more difficult than what I do any day.”

“Har-”

“M’sorry, lovie. Y’know I think you’re the most amazing mum and wife. You do everything for the baba and I. I shouldn’t have taken my anger from my week out on you yesterday and then said the things that I did,” Harry apologizes, his face sincere and open as he leans forward to nuzzle at his wife’s stomach.

When her hands come to run through his unruly locks, he knows he’s forgiven, “I appreciate how hard you work too. I really do, H. You’re the best husband and daddy to Ivy we could ask for. I’m sorry I took my frustration out on you as well.”

“Do you ever feel like I put work before you or Ivy?” Harry asks softly against her thin tank top, his hands come to massage at her full hips. There was a hint of insecurity in his tone that made Y/N’s heart sink a bit.

“No, I really don’t. I was just...I was just upset and I knew that would upset you. I’m sorry, baby,” Y/N murmurs softly, leaning down to kiss at the top of his head.

“Y’going to let me show you how sorry I am, how good of a wife and mum you are?” Harry drawls, his hands going to tug up the fabric of her top and humming appreciatively when she lifts her arms to let him do so.

“Yeah, remind why I married your crabby ass,” Y/N teases playfully, reaching behind herself to let her bra fall down to the crooks of her elbows before tossing it to the floor with everything else. As she’s doing that, Harry takes it upon himself to shimmy off her panties.

“Y’sayin’ you just married me ‘cause I fuck you good?” Harry grunts, standing up suddenly and pulling her up into his arms until her legs are wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck.

“Mmm, mostly. Also for your bank account was pretty good-looking too,” She lies blatantly but he still rewards her with a bruising kiss to her lips as he backs her against the wall so he can use one hand to tug down his running shorts.

“I’d still have married you, best decision I’ve ever made,” Harry says, sobering up from their playfulness. He slows down to be careful as he slides up into her warm heat, her head falling back with a thud against the wall.

“Harry,” She moans approvingly, heels of her feet digging into his backside to goad him into moving faster, “Right there.”

“So bloody in love with you. Please tell me y’know that baby, c’mon, tell me,” Harry begs, leaning down to smear kisses against her collarbone.

“I know, H. You’re so good to me, I love you,” Y/N whines and Harry knows that whine like the back of his hand, she needs more. He reaches down to rub tight, rough circles against her swollen bud until she’s tensing and coming.

“You feel so good, every single time. Don’t know how you do it, s’like you were made just for me,” Harry chokes out, stuttering and coming with his lips suckling a deep spot onto her breast as he rides it out.

After they redress and are cuddled on the bed, murmuring sweet little apologizes and affirmations of love, they interrupted by an angry squeak from the baby monitor - signaling their daughter’s woken up.

“Ballerina!”

hope you enjoyed. please inbox me what you think, like, reblog.

[rafescoke]

Older ; Rafe Cameron (Part 2)

masterlist

#Part 2

#Part 1

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Maybe falling in love with a Maybank wouldn’t be too bad.

Warnings: Smut! (Reader is 17, Rafe is 19), substance, swearing, reader being an asshole

A/N: I do not condone doing any sexual activities if you’re underage and everything that I wrote are solely for entertainment purposes. Take care of yourself always <33

p.s; send requests!

“What the fuck!”

“Good, you’re awake,” Rafe groaned, rubbing his eyes with his palm against the bright sunlight. He sat up straight, trying to regain his bearings and sighed.

“I can’t remember anything.”

“You can, you just choose not to,” Rafe replied, walking towards the bathroom. He felt the morning breeze nipping at his skin from the open window, and blamed it on the uncertain weather of Obx. Last night, he would’ve stripped naked if it wasn’t for the girl sleeping right next to him.

“Oh my god, where are we?”

“A hotel,” he mumbled from the bathroom, leaning onto the sink before reaching for the toothbrush. “We didn’t do anything, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I’m not thinking about that,” she grunted, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Do you have a phone?”

She grabbed for the red phone by the bedside table when he muttered the answer, dialling her brother’s phone number with trembling fingers. She sucked in a breath, waiting impatiently.

“Hello?”

“JJ! I-”

“Save it. I heard everything. Are you really that fucking stupid, (Y/N)? Rafe fucking Cameron?”

“What?” She sat up straighter, her hair falling down to her shoulders. Rafe watched her from the mirror, his eyebrows raised and his eyes worried.

“Don’t play dumb with me, fuck,” he groaned, “Come back home now, or I won’t talk to you ever again.”

“JJ-”

She sighed when JJ hit the end call, throwing the phone onto the bed exasperatedly. She understood why he was acting berserk at the thought of her and Rafe, but why would he even made this into a huge issue?

“You okay?” Rafe asked, wiping his lips with the towel. “Is it the brother?”

“Yes, it’s the brother, and he wants me home,” she grunted, pulling the covers off of her and standing up. She stumbled backwards, still feeling so light, but put her hand up when Rafe tried to help her. “Can you order an Uber for me? Please? I lost my phone.”

Rafe scoffed, putting the discarded shirt on the floor over him, “Don’t be stupid. Let me drive you home.”

“He’s gonna kill you,” she sighed, biting her lips. Rafe had to look away, pushing away all unwanted thoughts.

“Let him,” he mumbled, grabbing his car keys by the television and fixing his hair without even looking at the mirror. He huffed, thinking it must’ve been better, and waited for her by the door.

“Oh god, I look like we fucked,” she groaned, putting her head down as they walked quickly to the car. Rafe laughed, watching her beside him, and shrugged. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Yes, it’s a bad thing,” she widened her eyes, and waited for him to unlock the car. “We’re not the same, Rafe.”

“Really? I thought you didn’t care about the whole kook and pogues thing,” he asked, half-amused. He watched as she entered the car, not saying anything. He placed a hand on her lap, and watched as she grunted again.

“Don’t.”

“You were begging for it yesterday,” he smiled, igniting the engine before focusing on the rearview mirror. “Rafe! Please, just touch-”

“I did not say that.”

“You did,” he nodded, and laughed again. “Not exactly. But you did wanted me to fuck you.”

“That’s not me, that’s the alcohol.”

“Oh, does daddy know you drink?”

She stiffened, and Rafe cursed silently at the sight of her frown. He completely forgot how she had confessed to him yesterday, and took a glance at her before sighing.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean it like that.”

“Like what? What are you sorry for?”

“(Y/N), I forgot that-”

“I didn’t say shit to you, Rafe. Can you please shut up and just bring me home?” She yelled, her eyes flaring in anger and her chest heaving. Rafe stayed shut for a second, being caught off guard for just wanting to console her, but he decided to let the calm side of him took over.

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

The drive to the outskirts of The Cut was silent, and Rafe didn’t even bother to turn on the radio. He stopped at the gas station and asked her if she wanted anything, but she stayed silent as ever and looking out of the window at a random bald guy pumping his car.

“Fuck, you’re impossible,” he grunted when he entered the car again, placing a chocolate milk on her lap. She jerked at the cold temperature of the bottle, and gave him a glare.

Rafe couldn’t deny the sudden tug on his heart when he turned into the corner to the small house located at the end of the road, biting his lips and constantly glancing at the girl. He wasn’t scared of JJ, but he was dwelling on the possibility of Luke Maybank hitting (Y/N). He wished he could be with her, but even a crazy man would say that’s beyond impossible.

“Give me a call if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” she muttered, stepping out of the vehicle before flinging the door shut. Rafe grunted at his door shutting roughly against his car, and wondered why girls would even do that when they’re mad.

He watched as the door opened to a furious JJ, his eyes bloodshot red and his hair frenzy. (Y/N) said something to him, and Rafe read the lines of ‘I don’t want to hear it’ and ‘not bringing you to a party anymore’ from his mouth, and before he could read anything else, JJ’s eyes met his.

“Yo, is there a problem, Cameron?” JJ yelled from his front porch, flailing his arms as he walked towards the car. Rafe cursed, fumbling with his break, all while listening to (Y/N) trying to hold her brother off.

He sped away, glancing at the rearview mirror as the small house became even smaller, and let out a tired sigh.

It must be fair, he guessed, for JJ to act like that with him. Rafe went absolutely crazy when he found out that Sarah was with John B, constantly thinking about how he wouldn’t treat her as good as anyone else. JJ must’ve been thinking the same way, but Rafe didn’t know how he could convince JJ that he would never hurt her in any way possible. He shook his head at the thought, thinking how they wouldn’t even be a thing, not when the only proper communication they could have is when she’s drunk.

The next few days were a blur to him. Everytime he went down to the restaurant to catch a glimpse of her, even the tiniest look, she would return back to the kitchen and a different server would come and serve him.

It was like she was trying to ignore him, and Rafe knew something happened. She didn’t have the usual glow with her, that smile she’ll put when she’s talking to the bratty customers, and she was even yelled at by the manager in front of everyone, to which she yelled something back before yelling ‘I quit!’ and running towards the exit.

Rafe wanted to run after her, but knew he would annoy her even more. The good thing from that was he wouldn’t have to spend more money eating the tasteless food now, but he didn’t know where to look for her anymore.

It had been 2 weeks now, and Rafe still hasn't seen her since the day in the restaurant.

“God, you’re fucking hooked.”

“No, I’m not,” Rafe shook his head, attempting to drink the cold drink to ignore his friend. Topper rolled his eyes, patting his back before sighing.

“And she’s a minor, too.”

“It’s just 17,” Rafe shrugged, “And I’m still 18. Technically.”

“19 next month,” Topper reminded him, “There’s a long list of girls who would die for you and you’re after a pogue?”

“Don’t say that,” he groaned, pushing the glass further from the edge of the table. “And I don’t like her. I just think about her.”

“Whatever,” he shook his head, “But tell you what. There’s a party tonight, and it’s going to be huge.”

“Not interested,” Rafe mumbled, thinking of a peaceful night of sleeping instead of out partying. He didn’t feel like meeting Dee too, who had been trying to contact him since the day of the bonfire night.

“Come on,” Topper groaned, “It’s only for a few hours. A few hours to let loose.”

“I’ll think about it,” he lied, wanting to end this conversation already. He didn’t feel like drinking or snorting anything, and he wasn’t even sure why. All his teenage years, Rafe had been a party animal, always there at every party in Obx and just enjoying his life.

He didn’t feel like that Rafe Cameron anymore.

“Maybe (Y/N) would be there.”

His head perked up, “No, she won’t.”

“She will,” Topper shrugged, “Everyone’s going to be there. Are you not desperate to see her or something?”

Rafe thought about the possibility of this, and even if she’s not at the party, he was sure he could find her friends and ask them about her.

He sighed, “Fine.”

“I’ll pick you up at 9. Relax, man. You look like your fucking father.”

Rafe laughed with Topper at that statement, his heart set on one thing; (Y/N).

. . .

The loud music thrummed against his eardrums as he tried to cloud his mind, his head already ringing from the amount of drinks he had tonight.

Topper and Kelce had told him that he was too worried about the uncertainties, and he had dwelled so much on that statement that he decided to down so many drinks one after another.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Topper mumbled to Kelce, watching as Rafe situated himself on the sofa, head back, grunting slightly. “But whatever works, I guess. He’s fucking hooked, I swear.”

“Fuck, is that (Y/N)?”

Topper widened his eyes at the sight of the younger girl with Carter entering the party, his arms around her shoulder as he greeted his friends. He thought about amazing she looked, and how he understood Rafe now, but he didn’t know she would come here with a plus one.

He couldn’t let Rafe see this.

“You wanna go back home?” He laughed awkwardly, placing himself beside Rafe and glancing at a giggling (Y/N) with Carter. He looked at Rafe nervously, and cleared his throat. “I’m tired, man. We should go home.”

“Nah, I’m okay,” Rafe replied, feeling his body relaxing. “You’re right, man. All I need is a party.”

“Ha-ha, yeah, now all you need is your bed.”

“What the fuck?” Rafe laughed, turning sideways to look at the state of Topper. He laughed again, “What’s wrong with you? Is Sarah here or something?”

He looked around, his mind woozing, and what greeted him felt like a smack across his face.

(Y/N) Maybank and fucking Carter.

“Oh, fuck,” Topper said to no one in particular, and grabbed Rafe’s hand before he could stand up. “Chill, man. They’re just talking.”

“He tried to touch her,” Rafe mumbled, his eyes flaring up. Why would (Y/N) even allow herself to be in the same room as that stupid boy? She ignored him for 2 weeks, and now this?

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Topper warned, knowing that this would bound to happen. He didn’t know it would be this quick, though.

“Is killing him stupid?”

“Jesus, Rafe, just don’t do anything, okay? If he tries to touch her again and she looks uncomfortable, then do-”

Rafe stood up before Topper could finish his sentence, walking to the pair with a frown settled on his face.

“Cameron,” Carter greeted, a smirk tugging on his lips as he pulled (Y/N) closer. “What’s the deal?”

“What are you doing?” Rafe hissed, looking straight at (Y/N) as she tried to look away. He turned to Carter again, “The bruise looks a little bit dull. Want me to colour it for you?”

Carter stepped up, to which (Y/N) quickly placed her hand against his chest, rolling her eyes. “Stop it. Carter, let’s just go.”

“Are you serious?”

“Rafe, just go,” she threw him a look before parting away with a smirking Carter, to which he groaned and cursed angrily.

“I need a drink,” he said to Topper, and Topper hesitated before handing him his glass. He watched him downed the remaining content of the glass, placing the bottle next to him before throwing his head back again. He tried to say something, but was halted when he saw Dee walking towards them.

“Hey, Rafe.”

Rafe looked up to her brown eyes and sighed, “What do you want?”

“Do you wanna talk? Like somewhere?”

“We can talk here.”

“I mean like privately.”

A sudden thought occurred to Rafe, and he formed a sly smile; if she could do this to him, he could do it back.

When (Y/N) tried to pull away from Carter, saying she needed the bathroom, she had come across a drunk Rafe flirting mindlessly with the same girl who had asked her to reheat her pasta. She watched from the corner, feeling some kind of an emotion in her, and went back to Carter, who was in the mid of a conversation with his boring friends.

“I need you.”

“Now?” Carter glanced at her, “We just arrived.”

“I need you,” she pulled him again, to which he quickly bid his goodbyes to his friends and following her to the extra rooms upstairs.

It was like a reflex; Rafe saw her pulling that obnoxious guy upstairs, and he didn’t think twice before going after her, leaving Dee alone again, all stressed out.

He felt a wave of anger as she laughed at something he said, his hands balling into a fist. Carter tried to kiss her, to which she flinched quickly that his lips had connected with her cheeks instead, and watched as she giggled.

“I can fuck you right here and right now,” Carter sighed, still so absorbed into the moment and the thought of touching her. (Y/N) laughed, pinning him against the wall, and whispered into his ear.

“In a few minutes.”

Rafe watched as he laughed, his hands around her waist now, and all he felt at the moment was to punch the shit out of that pogue for touching her.

“I need the toilet,” she held a finger up, and placed a soft kiss against Carter’s cheeks as he groaned, muttering a ‘in a minute’ before fleeing to the far end of the floor. Rafe glanced at Carter before walking towards the bathroom, his heart hammering against his chest.

“You’re satisfied now?”

(Y/N) looked up from the sink to the mirror, watching Rafe’s reflection before sighing. Her heart soared, and she felt butterflies in the pit of her stomach at the sight of the angry boy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I really don’t understand you,” Rafe said, walking closer towards her. “Why are you back with that guy?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, turning to look at him, to which he slowly filled the gap in between them. She gulped at him being too close to her, and she could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“I can do whatever I want, Cameron.”

“So ignoring me for 2 weeks and making me jealous is your plan all along?”

“There’s no plan, and you know it,” she scoffed, and tried to push him away. She yelped when he tightened his fingers around her arms, keeping her in place.

She wasn’t sure if she liked it or not.

“Is this your payback for me not fucking you?” He whispered, his eyes glancing down to his lips, and he thought about biting the pink lips and fucking her until the next morning. “Huh? Is that what you’re mad about?”

“Fuck off, Rafe,” she sighed, “I’m a minor, remember? Isn’t your reason as to you’re not fucking me is because I’m a minor?”

“Oh, I see it now,” he laughed, tilting his head backwards before inching closer to her lips. He could feel her temperature rising, and couldn’t push the amusement in his body for getting her all worked up. “It is because I don’t fuck you. Do you feel rejected?”

“Fuck off,” she said, trying to push him again, but to no avail. She hated how turned on she was in that moment, and wished she had had her priorities straight.

“Do you want me to fuck you now?” He asked slowly, his lips grazing against her cheeks. She held her breath, and watched as he laughed. “Now you won’t speak?”

“Rafe, I-”

“Do you want me to fuck you now?” He repeated, his breath heavy. He looked down to her lips again, noticing her biting it, and cursed silently. “Answer me.”

“Yes.”

“Huh? I can’t hear you.”

“God, yes, yes,” she placed her forehead against his, and she could feel her core begging to be touched. She pushed her thighs together, finding some kind of friction for release.

Rafe trailed his fingers down to under her skirt, his mouth slightly apart and his breathing heavy as he watched her squirm, her eyes closed.

He bit her lips, “Open your eyes. Look at me.”

She opened her eyes, watching him intently as his fingers slipped into her panties, teasing her entrance and sending her in an euphoric state. She moaned lightly, and tugged on his wrist before he could continue.

“We’re still in the bathroom,” she said, her thighs trembling for his touch.

“I’ll fuck you in the living room if I have to,” he grunted, and before she could say anything, he turned her over so she could stare at herself in the big mirror.

She bit her lips, hearing him unbuckling his belt and positioning himself before her. She never imagined it to be like this; but she was sure anyways. She never wanted anyone so bad as much as Rafe.

“Faster.”

“Patience,” he groaned, and looked at her through the mirror. He licked his teeth, “Beg for it.”

“Fucking hell, no,” she rolled her eyes, to which he quickly grabbed her face and forced her to look at him through the mirror again.

“I said beg for it.”

“Please,” she whispered, and pushed herself against him, to which he grunted at the sudden touch. He grabbed her waist, pulling her close, and slowly slid himself into her.

He watched as she closed her eyes as he pounded into her, holding his hand against her mouth to shut her moans. He grunted again, telling her to open her eyes, and she obliged quickly.

“Oh my god,” she moaned against his hand, feeling so good that she didn’t ever want to let go.

“Wrong name,” he muttered, trailing his hands down to her neck now, and watched as she clenched around him, sending him to complete stars.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” he expressed, feeling himself getting sloppier, and his hands dropped to the sink to stabilize himself. Her moans were getting louder now, and he didn’t care, because all of his wet dreams before were coming to life.

“I’m close,” she stuttered, feeling all of him inside her now, and she swore no one had done it the way he did. Her hands grabbed onto his, feeling so close now, and screamed as she released herself.

“Fuck,” he groaned, pulling himself out and turning away from her, feeling all kinds of shocks as he came, his chest heaving and his forehead clammy.

Before he could guess their next move, (Y/N) pushed him against the wall, lowering down to her knees and gazing up at him from her position.

Rafe groaned, feeling himself getting hard at just her look, and bit his lips. “Still so sensitive.”

“So?”

“Oh my god,” he grunted, gripping onto her hair as she wrapped her lips around him, bobbing her head and Rafe had a sudden thought of how amazing she was. He felt the familiar feeling approaching again, and grunted again.

“You’re so good, baby.”

She hummed, sending vibrations throughout his whole body causing him to jerk forward, piling her hair up into a ponytail and helping her hit all of the spots to reach his end. He could feel her teeth grazing him, and he could’ve sworn he felt his heartbeat stopped.

“Fuck. You’re killing me,” he expressed, feeling so close now, and before she could prepare herself, the hot load hit the back of her throat, and she giggled as he pulled himself away.

“Holy fuck, you’re amazing.”

She showed him her tongue, all coated with his seed, and Rafe felt like kissing her and marking her as his forever. He didn’t ever want to let her go, now when she was like a precious gem to him.

She swallowed his load slowly, gazing at him with those eyes again, and Rafe had to turn away to stop himself from getting hard again. He placed a soft kiss against her cheek, pulling his jeans up and helping her dress down.

“We should do that again.”

“Oh, we will,” he smiled, turning the faucet open to wash his hands. He waited for (Y/N)’s turn and turned the faucet off before opening the door.

(Y/N) walked past him into the public, and before he could think of anything else he pulled her against his chest again.

“What?”

“We still haven’t kissed,” he said, and watched as she blushed heavily. “Do you wanna kiss?”

“I don’t kiss older guys,” she huffed, her mouth forming into a smile. “Wait until I’m 18.”

“Are you serious?”

She laughed, pulling herself away from him, “I’ll think about it.”

“You know where to find me, Maybank.”

-

@okayshoto @joselyn001 @onceuponateenagetrash @dyingsleeping @iwannabeapogue @meaganjm @rafesobxs @flossy2929 @unfortunatekiwitrash @scottybitch @asimpwriter @amaya124 @tommy-tommo @thatshithurted8 @fallincindy @marvelwhor3 @rafeswh0ree @kookap @supernaturallydc-blog @blank-velvet @alaniskauany @kiiim8 @witchywrter @kaitlyn2907 @heyimflo @overcookedpastasause @tsukkiswifeey @spidey-d00d @anonymousobxfan @gotmeinloveagain @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @lexi-writes @classydragonthingknight @belongtoyou-u @badbussylol @savannah-elliott @angelreyesgirl100 @haterpenny @beehappyyy @alwaysclassyeagle @maybankslut @kayleea122 @clearbolts @lovelyxtom @christianaevans @jemimah-b99 @opierdalacz @dangerdolns @wildflowerliv @classygirlything21

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Do Us Part

Warnings: nonconsent and rape; oral, fingering, marital discord, cheating, spousal arguments and mental/emotional abuse, age gap (Peter is 24/25 and reader is 35/36)

This is dark!Peter Parker x 30s/’older’ reader and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You find it hard to accept that not all good things last as you face the changes in your marriage, yourself, and your marriage.

Note: I wanted to write Peter again but also I’ve seen this nonsense about how 30+ writers are too old for fanfic which is dumb af. And I wanted to turn the age gap trope a little so that it wasn’t the reader being the younger one in the relationship. I label it older reader but I don’t think being in your 30s is old tbh (my bf is 36 so pfft). It was all just a conglomeration of circumstances that inspired a deceivingly sweet dark Peter and I hope you like it. Also it’s 7.4k so a bit of a longer read.

Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You walked slowly along the transparent shelves set into the pristine white walls of the cosmetics section. The department store was a haze of distant voices and the chirp of scanners as customers milled the aisles and waited their turn to check out. You whiled away your time looking at things you’d never buy as you waited for your husband to return from the men’s department.

You thought of the sparse make-up bag under your sink and the liners and shades you hadn’t used in years. They were likely expired and better tossed in the bin. You hovered along the crystal bottle of designer scents and stopped to test a particular blush-tinted fragrance.

You set the bottle back and peered over at the dark cubbies that housed the men’s scent. Even from there, you could catch a whiff of the heady scents as a younger man with reddish brown hair examined an angular vial of Dior Men. You suddenly felt out of place; a mid-thirties woman in her out-of-season clothes fantasizing about overpriced perfume.

Your husband's voice further cemented your reality as you fingered the golden cap of the Coach eau du parfum. Wesley rolled his eyes and flipped up the little plastic panel that hid the bold prices and huffed.

“I hope you don’t think I’m gonna pay for that shit,” he sneered, “what have you been doing? I was waiting for you.”

He waved a plastic bag as his lip curled and you pressed your mouth shut tightly and swallowed. The day began with another argument as he discovered the seared hole in his shirt and instead of blaming the crappy old dryer, he blamed you. Most of your clothes had been chewed up by the thing but you never complained.

“No, I was just… looking,” you teetered in your flats and glanced around. The young man at the corner display quickly turned to hide his nosy observation, “did you find some new shirts?”

“No thanks to you,” he sniffed.

“Oh,” you played with the hem of your tee and tucked your hands into your pockets nervously. You’d left him to look alone as you only seemed to irritate him and rarely took your advice on matters of clothing, “well, I thought I’d give you some space--”

“Stop acting so pathetic. Start taking responsibility for yourself. For god’s sake, you're almost thirty-six and you don’t know how to hang a shirt to dry?” He spun on his heel and snapped over his shoulder, “let’s go.”

You flinched but followed behind him as he strode away and you stumbled out behind him through the automatic doors. He tossed the bag into the back seat and slammed the door before flopping angrily into the driver’s side. You mirrored him daintily and squeezed your legs together as you tried to make yourself as small as you could.

“I told you about the dryer,” you said.

“And?” he started the engine and slapped his hand around the wheel, “call a fucking electrician or some shit.”

“Alright,” you shrugged as he stopped at the exit of the parking lot and checked his phone quickly.

“Benny wants to do a round of golf,” he peeled out and you grasped the door as your heart raced. You hated how reckless he was when he was angry. You hated how easily he got angry these days.

“Okay,” you picked at the fraying stitching of your purse.

“Don’t start moping,” he sneered, “I fucking work all week and I can’t go out and have a few rounds?”

“I never-- I didn’t say anything,” you murmured.

“You don’t need to,” he turned the wheel sharply as he cut off another car, “you sit at home all day and do what?”

“I work too,” you said.

“Uh huh, sure, if that’s what you call it.”

You ran your fingertip over the bleach stain on the knee of your jeans and said nothing. When he was in a mood, he would latch on anything until he outright exploded. You tried to think of when he changed, when he had stopped being the chill guy you met back in college. It felt like a slow trickle, small things you ignored until it was a mountain you could not see past.

You felt like crying but you’d stopped that a while ago. You existed in a purgatory of acceptance and helplessness. You wanted him to love you again, wanted to believe you could fix things. So you would keep trying. You would do better.

💍 

You picked out a large flank of steak and winced at the price. You had a special dinner in mind. It was Friday and the work week was done. You wanted a weekend without a fight and Wesley was always one for a nice big cut of beef. You hadn’t made him one in a while, your dinners were the usual repetitive drumsticks and rice or your homemade mac and cheese.

You continued onto the fish section and grabbed some salmon for yourself. You’d gained some weight and decided to cut out dairy and red meat if you could help it. The pile of produce in your cart reminded you of the extra jiggle around your stomach and thighs. You also grabbed one of those women’s magazines that advertised a regimen to help slim your figure. You only hoped you could stick to it this time.

With your weekly haul in tow, you wheeled up to the check-out and waited behind a young man who looked oddly familiar to you. Maybe that was the passing years. You always felt a vague glimmer of deja vu, more often a sense of forlorn nostalgia of what you would never have again.

As you stared thoughtlessly, he looked over and smiled. He bent in front of your cart and picked up a thin packet of seasoning. 

“You dropped this,” he said as he held it out and you thanked him before quickly snatching it and looking away. 

He paid for his large bags of chips and over salted pre-packaged meals and packed up at the end as you loaded up your own goods, the cashier sending them down the parallel belt. You swiped your card and tried to calculate the chunk of money from your last check. You thanked the clerk and sidled past the young man as he finished up.

You rounded the counter as he lifted his three bags. You looked up without thinking, the sleeve of his shirt tight around his bicep. You caught yourself staring and looked back down as you packed in the cans. 

It reminded you of Wesley; he’d also started being more mindful, he hit the gym after work and you noticed the little pudge that started just after he turned thirty was slimming out. It was that exact reason that made you notice the extra pounds on your own frame, not that you didn’t realise before.

The man left and you unfolded the little buggy you slid under the cart. You loaded your bags into it and dragged the cart behind you as you made an awkward exit with both wheeled trolleys. The compact fabric buggy was easy enough to fit on the bus if you stood.

You pushed the cart into the row of empty ones and continued across the parking lot. You rolled up to the bus shelter and checked the bus times on your phone. You dug out your strip of tickets and ripped one away. You leaned on the thin handle of your trolley and looked over your shoulder as you heard someone approach.

The man who checked out ahead of you put his bags on the metal bench inside the shelter as he sipped on a bright drink from the place just beside the grocery shop. He sent you a smile over his straw and you spun back to crane your head and search for the bus.

When the metal beast barreled up and cranked to a stop at the curb, the man waited behind you and as your wheels caught on the edge of the ramp, he reached around you and helped push it over the lip. You thanked him shyly and continued up. Usually you tried to keep the shop light on weekdays but you hadn’t really been paying attention.

You pushed your cart against the small barrier just behind the accessible seating and stood beside it, conscious not to take up too much space. The man stood just behind you two bags on one shoulder and the other dangling from the opposite elbow as he sucked on his straw. You grabbed the upright bar as the bus took off and watched the electronic banner for your stop.

A sharp stop had you veering back and you were caught by the young man as he chucked, “oop, you okay?”

“Yes, thank you,” you muttered and gave a sheepish smile over your shoulder.

“There’s a seat,” he gestured just behind you, “I’ll watch your stuff.”

“Um, no it’s… fine,” you gripped the bar tighter as the bus shuttled forward, “my stop is soon.”

You looked ahead of you and three stops passed before yours. You exited through the front with your buggy and headed down the sidewalk as the bus pulled away. You were exhausted just from your little sojourn and it wasn’t even two o’clock. God, you felt old.

💍

You had a salad chopped and tossed and the steak and fish laid out and seasoned. As you listened to your old Spotify list, the music dipped and the notification blipped over the screen. You washed your hands and grabbed the phone. You frowned as you read the lone message from Wesley, the only one you got from him all day.

‘Just finished at the gym, getting drinks with Andrew,’ you read and re-read the message as your heart fell.

You typed out a whole angry response and backspaced it all. You replaced it with ‘ok, have fun’ and blacked the screen. You shoved the meat back in the fridge and stretched saran wrap over the bowl of salad. You placed it on a lower shelf and closed the door, quickly swiping a can of the craft beer Wesley kept around.

You shut the light off in the kitchen and ignored the pang in your stomach as you cracked the can. You climbed the stairs as you sipped the hoppy foam. You put it on the night table and changed into the old butterfly pajamas you wore most nights and turned on the tv mounted against the wall. 

You turned on Netflix but hardly paid attention to the carelessly chosen movie. You sat against the headboard and down the bitter beer until the can was hollow and your eyelids were heavy. You slumped down so that your shoulders were at your ears and dozed off in the stiff position as the room moved with the colours of the television. 

The anger and alcohol shaded your shallow sleep and you hardly heard Wesley when he came in, only waking when your bladder was ready to burst and his snores rumbled in your head. You went to the bathroom and returned, wide awake, and stared at the shape of him in the dark.

You remembered when he used to kiss you when he came home, even when you were asleep, he’d wake you with the little pecks. You remembered when he was happy to come home. You remembered when you were happy. 

You swallowed the acrid aftertaste of beer and left him to snore. You went downstairs and curled up on the couch but didn’t sleep. You just stared at the shadows of the furniture until the sun rose.

💍

The next day, Wesley didn’t wake until after noon and when he did, he didn’t say a word to you. He took his coffee and sat at the patio table in the back as you stewed and cleaned the kitchen. You had nothing to say to him even if you felt stupid for being mad.

“Gotta head down to the dealership,” he said as he interrupted your scouring of the stove.

“The dealership?” you said after a moment, deciding whether or not to break your vow of silence.

“I told you on Wednesday, I’m picking up the car--”

“We talked about this. We should wait a little longer--”

“It’s my money and I got a great price,” he sighed, “just because you have to pinch your pennies--”

“We’re married,” you squeezed the foam sponge, “it’s our money. Don’t act like I don’t pay for anything around here.”

“Oh thanks, honey, so wonderful you paid for a five dollar steak,” he scoffed, “I’ll be impressed when you can make a mortgage payment on your own.”

“How dare you!” you turned your back to him and kept scrubbing, “fine, but not a penny of my money is going to that thing.”

“That’s fine, I’m selling the old one, that should cover most of it--”

“What?” you slammed your hand between the burner, “you said we would hold onto it so I had something to--”

“Then you can buy it from me,” he said venomously.

“I’m your wife,” you spun to scowl at him again, “I-- what is wrong with you?”

He tilted his head and squinted as he poked his tongue out along his lip. “Nothing wrong with me,” he shrugged, “what’s wrong with you?”

“Don’t--” you warned as you pointed a finger at him through the bright yellow gloves, “don’t do that… I’ve been trying and you just keep pushing me away.”

“Me pushing you away?” he rolled his eyes, “you were passed out last night when I got home. Maybe if you didn’t fall asleep before nine I could actually fuck you… or at least get it up if you worked on losing some of that cellulite on your ass.”

Your lip quivered and you sucked in a breath. You shook your head and turned around again. You ignored him as your hand shook and you continued your work, scratching at the dried-on food around the burner. His empty mug clinked onto the counter and you listened to his exit.

Fuck him and his new car. You were done trying with him.

💍

Wesley’s new car was shrouded in the shade of the garage as the old black Hyundai sat out on the driveway with a red and white “For Sale” sign on the windshield. Right after he got back from his extravagant purchase, he made the listing online and several perusers stopped by Saturday night but Sunday morning saw the car still there.

You sat by the border of stones around the garden as he drank beer in the garage and approached any interested buyers who appeared; although so far he’d only had two before noon.

You tucked your clippers into your apron pocket and dusted off your gloves as you stood. You were a little dizzy from sitting out in the sun and a glass of water was the perfect excuse to drown out the annoying sound of your husband’s voice.

You ignored Wesley as you trod through the garage and kicked your sneakers off on the mat right before the three steps up to the house. You went to the kitchen and put your gloves on the counter as you filled a glass from the dispenser on the front of the fridge. You’d given up everything but water and the slices of lemon were the only flavour you had.

You took the glass and your gloves and headed back. Wesley waited just at the bottom of the stairs as he glared up at you with arms crossed. You sighed and descended but he didn’t let you pass.

“What is your problem?”

“Are you really asking me that?” you hissed.

“You giving me the silent treatment isn’t gonna fix this,” he snarled.

“You know what you said so… I shouldn’t have to tell you to apologize,” you retorted and he stayed put.

“Is this about the car?”

“The car is just another thing,” you cross an arm around your stomach, “you think I couldn’t use it to get around, to get the groceries maybe? Or, I don’t know, maybe since you have such a problem with my home office, I could go out and get a ‘big girl’ job as you put it so many times--”

“Your mother has a car she never drives. You can just take her with you, two birds, one stone. I need to sell this to pay for the new one--”

“The one I begged you not to buy,” you huffed, “you could’ve waited a few more years until we were a little more comfortable--”

“Oh, wait? Until we have a kid and all my money goes to it,” he snapped, “yeah, I’m sure we’d have the money then--”

“You’d have to fuck to do that,” you stepped down the last step and pushed past him.

As you came into the sunlight and shielded your eyes, a figure stood by the garden, knelt just by your tulips as he felt the soft petals. You narrowed your eyes. You recognized him for sure. It was the stranger from the bus.

“Um, hi?” you croaked as you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Hey, it’s… you again,” he chuckled softly as he stood, “I saw an ad for a car and… well, I’m getting tired of the bus.”

“Oh, uh, my husband,” you pointed over your shoulder, “you’ll have to talk to him.”

“Okay,” he smiled, “Peter,” he held out his hand and you stared at it. You introduced yourself and shook his firm grip.

“Like I said, it’s my husband selling the car,” you brushed by him and got to your knees by the flowerbed. “Unless you’re looking to buy some wilting pansies.”

“Hmm, I like the tulips better,” he said as he slowly inched away, “thanks.”

You sat back on your heels and he strode over to the open garage. You heard Wesley greet him and didn’t bother paying attention to the same pitch you’d heard all morning. You pulled on your gloves and wiggled your nose as it tingled. You really just wanted to keel over and bawl.

“Sold,” Wesley announced and you heard a clap, “all yours!”

“I’ll just transfer the deposit,” Peter said and a minute passed before he emerged again, the keys hanging from his finger, “Thanks, Wes.”

You hid your distaste. It used to be that Wesley hated being called ‘Wes’ but lately, he introduced himself to everyone as just ‘Wes’. He really had changed. You must have too.

“Hey,” you looked up and blinked as the sun made your eyes water as it shone around Peter.

“You bought it?” you asked as you yanked free a weed.

“Yep, but uh,” he glanced over his shoulder as the old car stereo Wesley used blared out a classic rock tune, “I… wasn’t eavesdropping but I heard some of it and… if you ever need a ride to the grocery store, I usually try for Wednesdays,” he tucked his hand in his pocket, “I don’t live too far and since we go to the same one--”

“No, no, you don’t have to do that,” you looked back to the soil, embarrassed.

“Well, if you change your mind,” he kept the keys dangling from one finger and reached into his pocket. He pulled out his wallet and slid out a card with some effort, “I’m supposed to have these handy but I never really use them.”

He offered the business card and you read his name above the title, ‘senior photographer’. You gave a half-hearted smile and put it in your apron pocket.

“Thanks,” you said, “I can manage.”

“You don’t have to though,” he said kindly, “but I’ll, uh, leave you to your gardening. Sorry if I bugged you.”

“You didn’t,” you assured without looking up, flattered that anyone cared enough to even offer help.

“Hey, Pete,” Wesley stopped Peter as he neared the car, “you can have one before you go.”

“Oh, no, I’m gonna be driving,” Peter argued.

“Pfft, it’s a celebration and one won’t put you over the limit,” Wesley insisted and handed him a dark bottle of craft brew, “come on.”

“I really should go--”

“It’s a Sunday, where do you need to be?” Wesley patted his shoulder and looked over at you, “hey, honey, you wanna see if we have any snacks for our guest?”

“I’m not hungry,” Peter said curtly, “really. Just the beer is fine.”

They disappeared back into the garage and you cringed. You hated that. Wesley only every acted like a husband when others were around.

💍

You waited a whole week before returning to the grocery store. You were short on everything and it was a reason to get out of the house. Your husband had made both your home and your workplace hostile.

It irked you that Wesley resented you working from home when a couple years ago he was so happy about it. Then, he’d been so enthusiastic about starting a family but when it didn’t happen right away, he grew disillusioned and bitter. Now, he seemed to have no interest in being a husband let alone a father.

As you packed up your spinach and bottles of Perrier, your cart rolled just a little as someone nudged it from the other end. You raised your head and hid your surprise and discomfort as Peter smiled back at you.

“I thought you said Wednesdays,” you murmured as you dropped a bag in your cart.

“I forgot eggs,” he held up the carton, “I guess I have good timing.”

“You do?” you asked as you pulled your cart forward and maneuvered around to push it out of the way of fellow shoppers. You bent to grab your trolley from beneath and he caught it as you unfolded it.

“I’ll drive you,” he said.

“I told you--”

“I’m here so why not? Save the ticket for next time,” he urged.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why does it matter? Why do I matter to you?” you asked.

“I don’t know, I… like helping people,” he shrugged, “what if I told you you were helping me? I have this horrible need to be the hero.”

“That will go away,” you muttered under your breath and he lifted a brow, “sorry, I… thank you.”

“Alright, let’s go then,” he collapsed the trolley and carried it easily under his arm as he cradled his eggs in the other, “I got the A/C fixed on the car too.”

“Mmm,” you hummed and walked with him out of the store. 

You crossed the parking lot and helped you load up the bags in the trunk. That car should have been yours; you’d made enough payments on it yourself but Wesley was such a stubborn ass.

You sat in the front seat as he slid into the other and started the car. He drove cautiously through the lot and you read the store signs as he came to the exit.

“How long have you and… the old man been together?”

“Um,” you glanced over at him and chewed your lip, “since college so… almost fifteen years now.”

“Fifteen?” he turned out onto the street, “really? I thought he was older than you.”

“Christ,” you scoffed, “don’t flatter me.”

“Really, I woulda said twenty-eight at most,” he said coolly, “wow, I feel so young now.”

“And I feel so old,” you grumbled as you crossed your legs, hoping he didn’t notice the wrinkle in the pink capris.

“Whatever, you’re not even forty,” he said, “and time has treated you well so I can only think in a few years… oh jeez, sorry, that came off weirder than I intended. Not that I meant for it to be weird at all--”

You giggled at his rambling as he rolled to a stop at the sign and peeked over at you in the rearview. You caught his eye and quickly looked away, “what?”

“Just… you have a nice smile,” he said as he turned down a side street, “and a nice laugh.”

“Thank you,” your voice was brittle at the genuine compliment, “you’re funny.”

“Am I? I wasn’t trying to be,” he took the same short cut you took when you walked home from the convenience store which was closer than the plaza.

“And nice,” you said as he came onto your street, “you really didn’t have to drive me. You could’ve dropped me at the corner--”

“No way, I was raised better than that, and if you think I’m letting you carry that all in by yourself--”

“Raised to help little old ladies?” you mused.

“Raised to treat ladies properly,” he corrected, “especially pretty ones.”

“I’m married,” your heart pattered as you dared to flirt back, almost in disbelief that he was humouring you, “and your lies don’t work on me, young man.”

“Not that young,” he insisted as he pulled into the driveway.

You got out and went around to the trunk. He handed you the bag with the bread and other light products, and loaded up with the other bags.

“You get the doors, let me do the heavy work,” he said and nodded you towards the house.

You went ahead of him and unlocked the door. You let him inside and pointed him into the kitchen. He placed the bags on the counter and stretched his arms and hands as you set yours on the other side. The muscles of his arms moved under his skin and you could trace the lines of his torso through his grey tee.

“So,” he took out the bottle of Perrier, “this going in the fridge?”

“What-- you’ve done enough.”

“Fridge?” he ignored you and pulled out the other.

You gave a long blink and threw up your hands in surrender, “yes, please,” you came around and reached in to grab the whole grain buns, “bottom shelf.”

You finished unpacking your groceries and took the empty bags from Peter and shoved them under the counter. You stood and looked at him nervously as he watched you, his fingers tapping on the granite.

“Do you want a snack? Something to drink? Water?”

“I’ll have a water,” he said and moved to leaned his elbow on the countertop, his side snug to the edge.

“Sparkling or--”

“Regular’s fine,” he answered

“Ice? Lemon?” you pulled out a tall glass.

“Just ice is fine… then I’ll be out of your hair,” he said.

Ice clinked into the glass and you covered it with the distilled water from the fridge. You slid it onto the counter and stepped back.

“Oh, I… actually, it’s a good thing I ran into you,” he said and took a sip, “my aunt, she likes to garden too but she got some bulbs she’s not gonna use, I thought maybe… maybe you would like some to fill in the holes?”

“What kind?” you asked.

“Some daffodils and some crocuses, I think,” he said, “I could bring them over next week after work?”

“That sounds like a lot of work,” you scrunched your lips, “you could probably just give them to a neighbour.”

“It’s not out of the way,” he said, “you want them?”

You stared at him and thought. He was nice. Too nice.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing, I… I’m sure you have a girlfriend you could be spending time with--”

“I don’t. Not anymore,” he interrupted.

“Oh, sorry,” you said, “I didn’t--”

“Like I said, I always wanna be the good guy,” he finished his water and the last of the cubes settled at the bottom, “thanks.”

“No, thank you,” you said as he set his glass in the sink and backed away, “really, you made my day so much easier.”

“I hope your weekend is better,” he said, “but…”

He didn’t finished and you folded your hands together as he hesitated by the hallway.

“But what?” you prodded.

“Nothing,” he shook his head, “nothing. I should go.”

“Okay,” you rubbed the back of your neck, “see ya.”

“Monday,” he confirmed as he turned to the doorframe, “I’ll bring the bulbs. Just after seven.”

“Right,” you slanted your lips and watched him go.

The door marked his departure and you turned to exhale and lean against the counter. You could still smell his rich cologne. Then you felt guilty. It was stupid to think he was doing anything more than being nice, that the flirting was anything but a joke, but still, you missed feeling that way and it should’ve been Wesley making you feel that.

💍

You squeezed the phone as you clenched your jaw so tight it hurt. Your eyes were wet and finally the tears were ready to start falling. The smell of steak filled the kitchen, another meal you wouldn’t eat. At the last minute, Wesley texted to tell you he was hitting the gym. Again. He was already late after a long meeting but promised he’d be home to eat.

So you waited for him to answer your furious phone call but got his voicemail instead. Your eyes narrowed at the bottle of wine and your chest knotted as the tone sounded.

“Wesley, this is it. I can’t do this anymore! I’m your wife. Do you even want to be with me? I can’t go on like this and now you won’t even answer my calls,” you snarled. You knew he had his phone on him as he no doubt had his Spotify work-out list on shuffle, “when you come home, you can sleep on the couch.”

You hung up and grabbed a stemmed glass from the cupboard. You filled it to the brim with Pinot Grigio but before you could taste it, the doorbell made you jump. You set down the glass and walked up the hallway. Just on the other side of the frosted glass was a silhouette. You opened the door and touched your forehead as you faced Peter.

“I totally forgot you were coming,” you breathed, “I’m so sorry. But thank you, you really didn’t have to--”

“Are you okay?” he asked as the paper bag in his hand crinkled.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I… thank you for the flowers,” you looked at the brown paper bag and he handed it over, another bag on his wrist; white with ribbon handles, “what’s that? You headed out for a date?”

“Um, no,” he said, “actually, I was just…” he pushed his fingers through his hairs, the reddish brown locks slightly curled with sweat, “I wanted to talk to you.” He looked past you and his warm eyes returned to yours, “Wesley isn’t home yet?”

“No, he won’t be for a while,” you backed up, “so you might as well come in. I have a steak no one’s gonna eat.”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t be,” Peter said glumly, “and steak sounds good.”

He closed the door behind him and followed you into the kitchen. You put the bulbs at the back of the counter and grabbed the bottle, “wine?”

“No thank you,” he said.

You plunked down the bottle and took a gulp of your wine before you turned to plate the steak and your chicken breast alongside the fried asparagus and roasted potatoes. You set the filet before him as he sat on the stool and climbed up across from him at the long island.

“Thank you,” he watched you slide a steak knife and fork towards him and his gaze lingered on your lips as you took another thirsty mouthful, “this is for you, actually.”

He pushed the white bag over to you and you smelled the subtle floral scent rising from it. You put your glass down and pushed open the top of the bag and peeked inside. You shook your head and rescinded your hand as if you were slapped. It was the same perfume from that day weeks ago.

“You… how?”

“You don’t remember?” he asked.

You thought back on the day you wanted to forget. He was the other shopper in the perfume section, the one who sent you that sympathetic look as Wesley reproached you. You winced and grabbed your utensils. You cut into the chicken and shoved it in your mouth. You swallowed loudly.

“Take it back,” you sniffed, “I don’t want it. I don’t deserve it.”

“You do. He doesn’t deserve you,” he carefully sliced into the medium rare steak.

“Is that what this is? Some perverted joke? A challenge?” you dropped your fork and knife, “you think you can seduce the sad housewife and then laugh at it? Sow your wild oats?”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” he calmly put down the silverware, “I… what I didn’t say when I showed up is I just came from the gym.”

You frowned in confusion and wrinkled your nose. You took another drink of wine as you tried to understand.

“I saw Wesley,” he said as he leaned on his elbow and pulled out his phone with his other hand, “I didn’t wanna say anything but… you’re here beating yourself up over him and-- just look.”

He slid his phone across the counter and you looked at the screen. Your entire body felt heavy and your veins filled with ice. You dropped your head into your hands as you tried to wipe the sight from your eyes; the image of your husband groping a woman in yoga pants, an act she wasn’t deterring.

“I knew it,” you sobbed as the tears burst forth and leaked down your palms, “I knew it. And why wouldn’t he? I’m old, ugly--” you sniffed and pulled your hands away to wipe them on your pants. Peter held out a paper towel and you took it as you avoided his eyes, “thank you but I think you should go. I’m humiliated enough.”

“You shouldn’t be alone,” he said as he climbed down from the stool and rounded the island, “he’s an asshole. He’s blind.”

“Please, Peter, just leave me alone,” you slid off the stool and he caught your shoulders. You looked up at him as you dabbed away the streaks of sadness with the paper towel, “Peter--”

“I’m not leaving,” he said firmly, “he’s out there having his fun, so why don’t you have some of your own?”

“Peter, that’s-- that’s wrong. I’m too old for you. And… I’m fat and--”

“You’re perfect,” he reached up to frame your chin with his hand, “you’re gorgeous,” his other hand trailed down your arm and to your hip, “that’s the first thing I noticed about you…” he pulled you closer and tapped your ass lightly.

“No, I can’t-- I just want to be alone,” you pushed on his arms and felt the thick biceps as he flexed and kept you close.

“Well, baby, what I want,” he turned you so that you were pinned between him and the island, “is for you to put on that perfume… I want you wearing nothing but that.”

“Peter,” you pushed on his chest that time and the hard muscle wall didn’t budge, “Peter, go--”

“Baby,” he bent and scooped you up suddenly. 

His hands spread over your ass as he lifted you and crushed his lips against yours. You murmured in surprise and he placed you on the granite countertop. He parted from your lips as you sat up and he shoved your legs apart, inserting himself between your knees. He played with the bottom of the dress you’d worn in hopes of rekindling your dying marriage.

“We can go slow,” he tickled along your thighs and pulled back suddenly, “just a little at a time.” 

He leaned in as he reached around you and grabbed the small white bag. He pulled out the perfume and snaked his hand around your neck. He pulled you to bend over him and he kissed your neck just before he sprayed a puff of perfume across your throat. He stood back and took a deep breath. He put the bottle on the counter and his hands went back to your skirt.

“Peter,” you caught his hands as they crept under the fabric, “please.”

You tried to slide forward and he stopped you as he grasped your hips and held you in place. He bit his lip as his eyes glimmered up at you. He drew a hand away and took the glass of wine and held it before your mouth.

“Drink, relax,” he cooed, “forget about him.”

You stared at him and he brought your hand up with his and wrapped it around the full body of the glass. He nudged it to your lips and watched you until you drank from the crystal rim. He smirked and lifted your skirt as he bent to bury his head beneath the folds.

You gulped and choked on the wine as your skirt fluttered down over his shoulders. You felt his finger on the lace trim of your panties and winced. He squeezed your thighs with his other hand and nuzzled the crotch of your underwear. You tried to close your legs but he kept them apart easily.

He curled his fingers under the elastic of your panties and tugged. He pulled until you lifted your ass just enough for him to get them free and he guided them down your legs before quickly parting them again.

You set down the glass and almost overturned it, the last mouthful splashing up the side. You pressed your hands to the granite and peered down at the shape of his head beneath your skirt. You gasped as his cool tongue grazed your warm folds and delved deeper.

“Peter…” you wisped and closed your eyes as you tried to hide from your own shame.

He purred as his tongue flicked over your clit and you twitched. He caressed the crease of your thigh with his fingers as he lapped at your, his other hand pressed against your stomach until you fell back across the counter. You arched your back instinctively and his hand cupped your tit through your dress.

He blindly pulled until your chest slipped out and pushed the cup of your bra as he teased your clit with his tongue. He felt along your cunt with his fingers and shoved his index inside of you. You moaned as he pushed another inside and curled them as he suckled on your bud.

Your core burned to life. Your entire being was set alight after months without affection. You quivered in delight and fear. Your nerves stormed both out of guilt and hunger. It felt so good but you knew it was wrong. The scent of the perfume filled your nose as your skin grew hot.

He moved his hand in time with his mouth as he doted on you. His touch intensified as your legs bent around the side of the island and your fingernails dragged along the granite, your voice rising without thought. He pinched your nipple and you cried out as you came in a wave of sheer pleasure and grabbed his wrist as you tried to steady yourself.

He eased off slowly as you trembled in the afterglow, his lingering touch tickled along your legs as he pushed your dress up. He pulled you to sit up and lifted the fabric over your head and ripped your sleeves free from your arms. He tossed as side the garment and swiftly covered your mouth with his so you tasted your own arousal on his tongue.

He unhooked your bra blindly and slid it off your arms. You were intensely aware of your nakedness and as you brought your arms up to cover yourself, he forced them down and ran his hands over your bare torso. 

“Beautiful,” he said as he laid a trail of gentle pecks along your throat and chest, pausing to take a nipple in his mouth as he rolled the other between his fingers and sent a shiver through you.

He kneaded your sides and hips, his fingers danced along your thighs and he followed the path with his mouth, kissing and nipping your flesh. He lifted his head again as he took your hands and twined his fingers through yours. He tugged you gently until you slid off the counter and landed on your feet shakily.

“Baby, you’re so amazing,” he placed your hands on his chest and pushed them down his muscled torso and brought them back up beneath his tee shirt, “go on.”

He let you go and you continued to roll up his tee. He dipped his head and raised his arms to help you and you clung to the tee as it fell limp in your grasp. Dazed, he snatched the shirt from your hands and flung it. He once more pressed your hands to his chest and guided you in feeling the lines of his toned flesh.

He pushed your hands against the top of his jeans and leaned into you. He kissed your temple and whispered along your hairline, “turn around, baby.” He squeezed your ass and purred, “mmmm, please, I wanna see that ass.”

You blinked, dazed, and spun slowly. You caught yourself on the edge of the counter as your legs trembled and you heard the subtle zip. He kicked his foot between yours and pushed your legs apart as he led you back so that you were slightly bent against the island. He ran his nails down your back and gripped your hip with one hand as his other drew away from your skin.

You flinched as you felt his smooth tip against your ass and he rubbed it between your cheeks. You inhaled and held in your breath as his hold on your tightened and he angled his dick under your ass and grazed your cunt. He poked your entrance and pressed his chest to your back as his hand covered yours on the granite.

He slid into you and your voice fizzled in the air as he forced the air from your lungs. You pushed your head back and it met his shoulder as his other hand crawled down your front. He spread your folds with his fingers and swirled another around your clit as he tilted his hips and thrust into you slowly.

“Ah, Peter,” you slapped the counter and he shushed you as his hand left yours cold and his fingers stretched over your throat.

His motion picked up as the noise of him crashing into you echoed around the kitchen. Your eyes rolled back as he rammed into you even harder. You were on tiptoes as he was driven by the weak moans that leaked from your lips and your wet pleasure squelched around him. He pressed two fingers to your bud and rubbed until you squeaked and your thighs quaked around him.

“That’s it, baby,” he growled, “I bet you never cum like that for him.”

You whined and he sped up again. He pinned you against the counter so that the lip pressed into your stomach. He took his hand from your cunt and pushed your head down as he kept his other hand around your neck. He didn’t waver once as he fucked you.

“Touch yourself, baby,” he commanded, “I want you to cum again for me. I know you want to too.”

His thick breath warmed the air and grazed your back as he held you down and his hold on your neck tightened until silver stars rose in your vision. Your feet dangled against the tile and you reached down to play with your clit as it buzzed. It was only seconds before you were murmuring in ecstasy once more.

“Fuck, baby, can you feel that? The way your clinging to me,” he puffed as he slammed into you over and over, “he can hardly fill you, can he? Hmmm? Little man.”

You wheezed as he choked you and his other hand kept your head pinned. You heard a distant creak but could barely do more than keep your fingers moving as your heartbeat deafened you. You came again and croaked as your cunt squeezed him hungrily.

“What the fuck?” the voice broke your lusty trance and suddenly you were pulled away from the counter.

Your head lulled as Peter held it up and turned you around, his pelvis slapping against your ass as you faced your husband. Your mouth hung open as your blurred vision barely registered the scene and the deep grunts only got louder behind you.

“Look who’s here,” Peter rasped as he snaked his arm around you.

“The fuck are you doing?” Wesley sneered as your eyes closed and your ass rang with each thrust.

“What you can’t,” Peter snickered, “doesn’t she look so happy?” He grasped your chin and pushed his fingers into your mouth as he held your head up, “well, you into watching or you gonna let us finish, old man?”

[saiqherrr]

.stay mine (c.)

.content warning jealousy fuck, smut, nsfw, rough sex, hair pulling, choking, edging, use of the word slut, possessiveness

.pairing choso x fem!reader

.synopsis you're a shaman that works alongside geto, mahito and choso, doing a lot of dirty work for them. you get a little handsy on the job and choso has to punish you for it.

.a/n this is for a friend LOL. late birthday gift for her. this plot was so fun to work with. LMAO THIS IS SO LATE LIKE-  IT REALLY SHOULDN’T HAVE TAKEN ME THIS LONG. i also did not proof read so any errors will be fixed later on ok bye lollolololo

.WC 4.1K

“C’MON, Y/N, LET’S PLAY FOR A LITTLE BIT LONGER.”

you rolled your finger around inside your itchy ear with blase eyes, annoyed with mahito’s childish pleading. fighting with him was fun and all, but he never knew when to take a break. “i already said no, mahito. i’ve been gone too long. my mission was simple and didn’t take long. they’re expecting me to be back.”

getou plunked down in an arm chair, a presumptuous grin on his face. no matter what was going on, he seemed to be entertained by the shenanigans around him. he was almost always relaxed, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him irate or upset that often. however, he carried a bothersome, condescending attitude. he didn’t bother you much, but when he spoke you wanted to deck him in the back of the neck sometimes.

“get back to work.”

you snapped your head at the recognizable, profound voice that came from the entryway of the hideout. you smirk once you saw choso’s face. “someone’s eager for me to leave.” thinking that you had let your guard down, mahito was preparing to land a kick to your head, yet your reflexes and fringe vision permit you to snatch him by the lower leg and pummel his body into the ground. “i said enough mahito.”

he madly giggles with a crazed look in his eyes. you shake your head and bring your attention away from him. choso approached you, his steps echoed throughout the big space.

“not eager, but you’re gonna screw shit up if you don’t get back there soon,” he warns you. he was right and you sighed while smiling, caressing his face and rubbing a finger under his drained eyes. he pushed your hands away gently. he didn’t favor being handsy like this in front of the others. “go.” with a huff, you fix your uniform a bit, flattening down your skirt, before walking out the entryway and making your way to jujutsu tech.

carrying on with this twofold life could get somewhat confounding at times. you were unable to translate who you truly were, however it didn't make any difference to you much. you simply needed to be any place choso was, or doing something for him. in the wake of saving your life in an oddity mishap involving your power and showing you the true worth of your cursed energy, he took you under his wing. he acquainted you to his little “group” that consisted of three other people; mahito, jogo, getou and hanami. you didn’t favor anyone besides choso, involuntarily attached to him and how he treated you. sentiments were reciprocated, being that he had met you subsequent to losing his brothers and you were the lone individual with a human heart that minded or could even feel genuine compassion by any means. everyone in this circle had goals, but you just wanted to be around choso.

sharing a bond together eventually lead to other relations. sexual relations. kissing him was like a drug. touching him was that of a blessing. being touched by him was a gift from god himself. growing up an orphan in and out of shelters your entire life, you had never felt true love, true affection, but you were sure this is what it was like with choso. as close as the two of you were, he kept his distance sometimes. conceivably in light of the fact that he didn’t want to lose you and find himself hurt again. he didn’t claim you as his or exclusively claimed you as his partner. he simply acknowledged you as “the thing he gets to fuck now and then.” you didn’t know if those words were supposed to hurt or not.

arriving back at jujutsu tech, you noticed it was fairly empty. the students must’ve been sent back to their dorms already. was there really a point in coming back here? you gave your report to masamichi and he thanked you graciously for handling the job. you were given the go to leave, but you were stopped in the hallway by a familiar face - one of your mentors. gojo satoru. he was the man you had to watch out for if you ever had to fight him at some point. he was the strongest shaman in the world and he could end your life in two seconds if he wanted to.

he was nine years older than you, looking good for his age of 28. he had a priggish smile on his face and he leaned against a wall, looking at you, even though his eyes were covered by a black blindfold. “hi, gojo,” you hesitantly greeted him.

“y/n,” he sung your name out as he sat up from the wall, inching closer to you with each steady step he took. “glad you came back safe from your mission.” he got uncomfortably close to you and you took two, small steps back.

“yeah...” you say softly. “did you need me for something?”

gojo chuckled before he took his blindfold off, revealing his magnificent, blue irises. you broke eye contact, suddenly feeling shy. “i do need something from you, but...you’re young. i don’t know if you’d shy away from the idea or not.” his voice was nearing a whisper, his tone was teasing.

you were frozen in place, not sure how to respond to his lewd words. could this get you any more information than you already had? no, this could possibly form a bond between the two of you. a faux trust. he’d never suspect you if you got close enough to him.

you’re entire demeanor changed, feigning a seductive smile while bringing your hand to his cheek. “i’m young, but i’m legal, gojo,” you say as your eyes land on his lips that were coated with lip balm, making them appear glossy. “and experienced,” you add.

you don’t know what you were expecting but you felt your heart dive to the lower part of your stomach when gojo had set his cherry-flavored lips on yours. you didn’t kiss back, eyes wide open, too in shock to give him a proper reaction. the only one who ever kissed you was choso. choso. but you couldn’t fully see the harm in it...

you couldn’t see any harm in getting into gojo’s car, stepping into his home, stripping naked in front of him, having him impale your hole with his long cock, having him kiss your lips with hunger, having him leave hickeys along your neck, collarbone and breasts... he even promised to keep you around. you didn’t see the harm in it at all. he must’ve had his eye on you for some time - he fucked you like a feral animal, but he whimpered like a bitch like he had been dying to plunge his dick inside of your wet cunt for months.

after a short cat-nap, you woke up besides gojo. he snored lightly, no blankets over his half- bare body and he had his back to you. you decided it was a good time to leave, getting off the king-sized bed and picking up your garments that were sprawled on the floor. you freshened up in his bathroom, got dressed and left his house without waking him.

you took a taxi to get to the area in which the hideout was in, careful not to let anyone get to close. you walked along the trail until you approached the broken door of the soiled house, wondering when they’ll be switching locations. it was late, but getou, mahito and choso were up playing a board game in the assumed living room.

getou’s slanted eyes rolled up to look at you. “you’re back later than usual.”

“yeah...” choso mumbles. his back was turned to you as he was analyzing the game they were playing, ensuring that his next move was a smart one.

mahito chuckles when he sees you. “surprised you were gone for so long, y/n. you hate being departed from your choso-kun,” he teases. you feigned exacerbation and chuckled. “where were you?”

“with gojo,” you answered him nonchalantly.

“oh?” getou’s head rose to fully look at you. 

choso’s neck turned to take a gander at you. his stresses over the game had immediately disseminated and he was more worried with regards to why you looked so unkempt and had hickeys scattered around your neck. “did you fuck him?”

“yeah.” you dropped your belongings on a chipped, wooden table. you yawned while taking off the tight, uniform jacket, pulling it off of your arms with your as clothes. “thought it’d be good to keep him wrapped around my finger so that he trusts me mor-”

those strong, pragmatic reflexes from earlier today had bombed you just now, for you were cut off by your own gasp when choso had pulled you by the collar of your white dress shirt. his knuckles became white and his dark strands of hair that curtained his face scarcely concealed the compromising glare that his cold  eyes were giving you.

betrayal, all choso could feel was betrayal. sure, you weren’t his partner and he couldn’t bring himself to claim you as his, but he didn’t expect you to go out and fuck someone other than him. it was a selfish assumption, but choso was too caught up in the moment to give a damn about being fair right now.

“so you gave your body away to some fucking stranger?!” choso fervently reprimanded you, fixing the grasp on your shirt. mahito watched with a goofy smile on his face while getou put a hand to his temple, cocking his head to the side as if he was trying to predict what would happen next.

“i-i-i...ch-choso...he’s n-not a stranger... i thought-” you stammered on your words, frightened by the way he manhandled you. choso never wanted to hurt you before. he brought his free hand, raising it up in the air before the back of his lanky hand hit against your cheek, causing you to yelp as your eyes began to burn with fresh tears.

he scoffs when he notices you’re on the verge of crying. he lets go of your shirt and grabs a handful of your hair before yanking your head as he walked out of the living room, going up the squeaky, unstable steps of the house.  it felt like a thousand needles had hit your scalp as he dragged you by your hair up into the empty bedroom. the room, for the most part, was empty excluding a decent mattress that you had been sleeping on for the past few nights. he threw you onto the mattress after slamming the door shut.

“since when did you become a slut?” he snaps at you. you swallowed at his words as you sat up on the mattress. after locking the door he comes to the bed to lean over you, push you down, and snatch your wrists. one was pinned above your head while the other was pinned beside it. he had your body caged and all you could do was ball your hands up into fists and look away to avoid his menacing gaze. “answer me.”

“choso, did i hurt you?” you gave answered his question with a question. he narrowed his eyes as he studied your appearance. your face was covered in desperation, obviously flushed from getting pinned down this way. although you looked away, your guilt-ridden eyes came back to him, holding innocence. your nipples were showing through your dress shirt and and the hickeys on your skin just made you look ten times more obscene than you already did.

“you disgust me...” he sneered, nostrils flaring with anger. both of you were terrible at answering questions. he gripped your wrists tighter, he might as well have ripped your skin. “your body is diseased. are you fucking proud of yourself?”

your breath hitched, the insults hurt more than the slap he gave you moments ago. you felt extremely humiliated by the fact that this slander was slipping out from his lips with no problem. “i didn’t feel like i belonged to you...” your voice was laced with shame and inferiority.

“but you do.” his words had your mind spinning a mile a minute, confused because his actions didn’t align with this statement. they also had you spinning for another reason: you were suddenly in heat, legs squirming once you felt yourself drooling with juices. everything about this was embarrassing, you couldn’t help the fact that being degraded like this was so fucking hot. you even frowned when one of his hands let go of one of your wrists. he looks down to see your legs moving and lifts up your skirt to find you dampening your cotton panties. “you’re getting off to this, aren’t you?” you didn’t answer him, closing your eyes shut as you tried to hump yourself instead. he shifted his knee in between your legs and it just barely brushed against your warmth.

“choso, please...i want you. i want to show you i’m sorry,” you whined, still squirming in his grasp. you grinded yourself against his knee, panting heavily with desperation. “i’m so sorry...”

choso was tired of your bitching, growing more irritated by the second, yet yearning for you all at the same time. he wanted to teach you a lesson. he needed to. how dare you assume you could fuck anyone else besides him just because he didn’t claim you? he hoped that you’d know just by a mutual feeling, but maybe he expected too much from you. you were still dense, young and highly immature. he found you to be somewhat of an airhead sometimes. for fuck’s sake, you couldn’t even process that what choso was feeling was simply envy and betrayal right now.

he pulled down his pants, full taking them off before rubbing himself through his boxers, groaning at how it stood against his thigh, pulsating for her. he hated that he was aroused by her in this state. he truly wanted to just hate you, he really did. but he couldn’t. he needed you just as much as you needed him.

your hand reached out to touch his face but he slapped it away harshly. “choso, say something, please,” you whined once more, fully ticking him off at this point. he took off his underwear swiftly before grabbing you by your hair again. 

he stood on his knees, guiding your head to face his stiff, cock. he didn’t want to hear you right now. the only thing he wanted to hear was you slobbering his dick with your wet mouth. he wanted to hear you gagging and choking on his throbbing dick. he poked your lips with his flushed tip that was considerably a dark hue than the remainder of his length. you parted your lips to give him access into your mouth. your cheeks went hollow as you began to suck him off, fisting whatever you couldn't reach with your small hands. you didn’t expect much from this until his tip kissed the back of your throat, daring to go any farther.

for the first time, he pushed your head down, forcing you to take every inch of his cock inside your wet, warm mouth. he murmured with fulfillment as he watched your throat swell, mouth completely loaded down with his veiny cock. nothing else could be heard in the room other than the vulgar regurgitating and gargling that came from your mouth. his balls slapped against your chin rhythmically as he began to slowly buck his hips. spit trickled down to your chin, tears littered in the corner of your eyes - he was ruthless with the way he face fucked you, not seeing you as the person he cared so deeply for. you were simply just a cocksleeve to him right now. your jaw ignited with torment as it began to ache, your throat inflamed, air consistently being dissuaded. meanwhile, choso shamelessly grunted and groaned, feeling anything but discomfort. your mouth took his cock so well each time it slid down. he put a hand on your neck just to feel himself encroach the walls of your throat with each thrust.

a violent and desperate scratch on his thigh was all it took for him to stop. he pulled away from your mouth and you gasped as you fell back onto the mattress, trying to receive as much air as you possibly could. you went into a hacking fit, holding your sore throat with half-lidded eyes.

he watched you recover, rolling his eyes at how pathetic you look. “i bet if gojo asked you to take i down like that you would, right?” his words sounded like white noise, your brain excessively fluffed out to fathom anything he said to you.

“keep talking to me like that...” you responded to him in a raspy voice, standing up on your knees, supporting the scruff of his neck as you inclined in to suck on spots you knew by heart.

he looked down at you like you had lost your fucking mind. he might’ve completely broke you - or maybe you had enjoyed this all along and didn’t know until now. “bet you hiked up your skirt in front of the bastard on purpose, yeah? desperate for some fucking attention, selling yourself out like the slut you are, hm?”

he pulled your skirt off of your legs while your lips were still latched onto his pale flesh, giving it splotches of color with every love mark you left on him. your thigh highs that concealed your legs remained on for choso’s own pleasure. you took one hand and unfastened your dress shirt, uncovering your exposed bosoms under it and choso helped to pull it off of your arms. his hand then reached to the space between your thighs, pinching your skin in numerous places before rubbing two fingers against wet core. your cunt was so swollen that he could see the outline of your lips pressing against the cotton of your underwear. 

he grabbed the back of your neck and gently pressed the sides of it with his fingers, pulling you off of his skin. his lustful eyes gazed into yours. “you’re mine and you’re gonna stay mine. you belong to me...say it with me.” his two fingers have now pushed aside your panties, slowly rubbing your puffy clit.

“you belong to me.”

“i belong to you.”

and he was going to make sure you didn’t forget it.

he dipped his fingers right into your core at the sound of your voice, causing you to go weak in the knees, holding onto his chest for momentum. you fell like a feather when he pushed you down onto the mattress, head rolling as you felt his fingers massaging your walls. you tucked your bottom lip in between your teeth and your top lip, just barely biting the flesh, closing your eyes. choso’s fingers were coated in your juices as they plunged into your hole repeatedly. he moved them in a scissoring motion, procuring a few whimpers from you. you squirmed as his fingers stretched your opening and he held you down by pushing down on your thigh. his fingers pecked your g-spot before he was deliberately ramming into it, bringing you closer to your release.

“i’m gonna’...i’m gonna cum!” you cried, setting yourself up for overpowering delight you were going to feel, just to be left on the edge of your climax when choso pulled out your fingers. you mindlessly reached for his wrist, trying to pull him back to your cunt but he pulled away aggressively with a smirk on his face. your cunt clenched around nothing, desperately yearning for a release.

his fingers hastily flicked your clit, sending waves of euphoria throughout your body, your orgasm just two or three flicks away and once he sees your straining face, he stops again.

“fuck choso! fucking quit it!” you were more frustrated than aroused, on the verge of losing your fucking mind.

“sluts don’t get to-”

he couldn’t finish his sentence because you had suddenly straddled him, your legs on either side of one of his legs as you gripped onto his shoulders. a chill ran down his spine once he felt your bloated, drooling cunt on his bare skin. you frantically humped his thigh, not giving a shit about how pathetic you looked.

choso watched you throw your head back as you drove yourself to your climax. you needed it so bad. you’d probably kill for this fucking orgasm. choso felt your thighs vibrating viciously against his leg as you drew nearer to your delivery, the speed of your hips wavering without wanting to. he chose to be permissive and snatched your hips, grating your hot cunt against his skin. 

“if you’re gonna cum, then cum already...” he aggressively encouraged her through a hushed voice, panting as her body brushed against his aching cock.

“i’m cumming, i’m-” you screwed your eyes shut once you felt every cell of your body completely evaporate for one quick second before coming back all at once. your toes curled, your grip on his shoulders got tighter and your stomach convulsed uncontrollably. you felt embarrassed by the fact that he could make you so desperate, so needy, yearning for pleasure.

“greedy fucking bitch...” he growled. the whines that whimsically got away from your lips had moved toward a boisterous, broken moan that you both were certain mahito and getou heard from ground floor. choso’s leg was now a sticky mess, your fluids smeared all over his leg as you continued to ride out your orgasm. “...cumming before i could even fuck you.”

he let you relax for a bit, your head laying on his shoulder as you panted heavily, pussy still clenching around a cock that wasn’t there, still being greedy as ever. he lifted your hips, situating his cock below your entrance before slowly sliding you down his length. your breath hitched, voice abruptly non-existent as you attempted to groan, however nothing came out.

his hips moved upwards with very little strength, for he depended on you to ride him. his hot breath fanned over your sweaty skin as he breathed heavily. he exploited the couple of inches you had over him and gotten one of your firm areolas in the middle of his teeth, nibbling on it. he hungrily began to suck on your breasts, switching between the two when he got tired of one. your body shuddered every time his warm mouth would switch to the other breasts, leaving the other cold. his lips latched onto the skin around your nipple and began to suck harshly, leaving purple-ish red marks on your derma. he made sure to leave his mark on you, ensuring that the next time gojo stripped you of your clothes, he’ll see reminders of who you really belong to.

you rolled your hips to his liking, his cock feverishly invading your insides, feeling him in your lower stomach. you hadn’t fully recovered from your orgasm, yet you somehow found some the strength to began bouncing yourself on his dick. each time you came down on his cock, it pushed a ribald moan from your throat.

choso didn’t rely on you anymore and he began to buck his hips upwards with a quick pace, almost animalistically. “i’m gonna cum in this pussy...” he whispered while your waist was seized by his calloused hands. “you wanna feel all my fucking cum, right?”

you attempted to give him response, but your voice, again, failed you and all you could do was moan and nod your head. choso wasn’t accepting that.

“use your words.”

“i’m...i...i want you, i wanna feel a-all your fucking cum,” you blabbered before the rest of your words came out incoherent.

you both were coated with sweat, bodies glistening under the very little moonlight that had poured through the dirty windows of the room. you felt another layer rise on your skin as choso continued to impale your pussy with his cock.

“gonna keep all of it in, yeah?”

you nodded quickly, tangling your fingers in his raven locks of hair as you were reaching another orgasm. “’m gonna cum...” you whimpered, eyes closed, head thrown back.

“cum with me,” he whispered before he delivered his last few thrusts to you, bringing the both of you to a simultaneous release. strings of his cum spurted inside of your cunt, filling you up to the brim. he lays your limp body down and thrusts himself inside of you a few more times to ensure that every last drop stayed in. you muscles clenched, desperately trying to take it all, but some inevitably slid down your sore hole.

choso had come to the realization that it was impossible to be mad at you for long, after all, you were artless. none of that mattered anymore, you were under his control now and there wasn’t anyone who could change that, not even gojo. the cum that clogged your cunt was a reminder that you were his and now you had no reason to believe different.

[sorryimanon]

Character: Katsuki Bakugou

Warnings: so much fluff and a bit of spice

In which you and bakugou witness your child’s quirk for the first time

-

Early mornings were the best in your opinion. The warmth of the blankets hugging every inch of your cold body, the sound of cars zipping by outside the cracked window, and the familiar wandering hands that belong to none other than your boyfriend. It’s quite a sight, seeing Katsuki all vulnerable with his head angled just right into the base of the pillow, a pool of drool collecting on it. Usually he’s an early bird, waking up before you to cram in a quick workout then head off making breakfast in the kitchen. However, the routine switched up when a little bundle of joy enterd both of your lives.

Everyone, including you, was surprised you managed to settle Katsuki down let alone have him become a domesticated father. Of course it scared the living shit out of you. Sex with Bakugou was amazing, tenfold even, but one night both of you made an irrational decision to not use protection while being intimate, resulting in you heaving yourself over the toilet the following weekend.

“Stomach flu, right?” Katsuki reasoned anxiously.

“Right.” You reassured him with a crooked smile.

Nine months later you gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. To say you were happy was an understatement. Hell, everything you ever wanted landed graciously on your lap like a silver plater. Even though you and Katsuki weren’t planning having kids for a long time, the moment when your daughter finally arrived, it’s like both of y’all knew she came into your lives at the right time.

Now she lays crushed between Katsukis chest, his arms wrapped protectively around her as though something were to have grabbed her in the middle of the night. Their breathing synchronized each time they inhaled and exhaled. For a second, you admire the two figures in front of you. She sure inherited the looks from your boyfriend. Same blonde hair, toothy grin, and crimson eyes. At least she had more of your personality and mannerisms. Although occasionally her sudden outbursts reminded you of Katsuki when he was a teenager.

Your daughters head was in a awkward 45 degree angle, making her blonde hair cover half of her face. Instinctively, you reached over and brushed aside the tangled mess, making her squirm in place at the sudden touch. She opened her eyes finally and obnoxiously yawned, stretching out her small arms. One of her arms accidentally whacked Katsuki in the face during the process.

“Ugh you fucking gremlin...” Katsuki mumbles, playfully swatting his daughters hand away from his face. Your daughter eventually unlatched herself from his arms and began to jump up and down in the space between you and your grumpy looking boyfriend.

“Daddy’s up! It’s time for breakfast!” Your daughter joyfully proclaimed while bouncing around on the king sized bed.

“No it’s not.” He swept his feet that weren’t covered by the devet under hers, causing her to land softly against the bed. You knew she enjoyed the harsh playfulness when you heard her cries of laughter. You giggled and looked over at Katsuki, who at the moment had a temporary scowl across his face.

“Squirt you know the rules. Get yourself cleaned up and then we’ll start making breakfast,” you promised her.

Her eyes lit up at that moment like it was Christmas morning and hoisted herself off the large bed. She closed the door behind her, like you taught her, and scurried off to the shared bathroom. You wanted to have a moment of peace before she comes barging in again. Closing your eyes, you hummed in satisfaction and snuggled more into your pillow. Across from you, Katsuki had other plans in mind. He closed the space between you and laid his hand on the base of your waist, the other bunching up your shirt. Wanting to feel your skin, he slipped his hand under your shirt and rubbed circles around your abdomen. The coldness that clung to your skin immediately warmed up by his gentle touch. The sensation dragged a familiar sensual feeling down your body. A feeling that you haven’t felt in a while. Opening your eyes to where they’re just tiny slits, you can make out Katsuki staring right back at you.

“I know you’re still awake dumbass,” he softly spoke, his breath fanning the crook of your neck. So close he took the opportunity and started kissing the sensitive area. His tongue darted out, licking a small strip in the crevice. You didn’t need a third party to know a bruise was already forming.

“K-Katsuki. Not right now. Our d-daughter is just down the hall from us,” you manage to croak out as he attacked your neck with love bites. Oh how you missed these small little interactions with him. You knew they resorted to adultry, but anything involving foreplay with Katsuki excited you.

He sucked and bit some more of your supple flesh, causing you to ripple out a soft moan.

“Oh baby, how I missed your fucking moans.”

His morning voice mixed in with his already deep brooding one made you even wetter by the minute.

Soon the hand that was rubbing circles around your stomach extended to your breast, grabbing it playfully in tune to his tongue massage on your neck. Katsuki flicked his thumb over your perky nipple, giving it much desired attention. You parted your mouth slightly at the action, letting him latch his lips onto yours. Thankfully your moans were muffled, or else your daughter would’ve heard.

To return the favor, you carelessly grope Katsukis member through his boxers, earning a groan from him within your mouth.

“Fuck baby. You almost made me...cum by just... doing that,” he said in between sloppy kisses.

Without breaking the kiss, you shifted yourself on top of him, straddling his waist with your bare legs on display. His hand left your breast and replaced itself onto your hip, massaging the skin that was exposed. You removed your mouth from his, catching some air you forgot existed until he meshed into you. The two of you were a panting mess.

“It has been awhile, hasn’t it?” You whispered into his ear.

If looks could melt, his infamous smirk would. “Quickie? Before the brat ruins the fun.”

You huffed and pinched his cheek to the point where the flesh turned red.

“Ow fuck! Okay shitty woman. I take back what I said.” He smacked your ass as revenge and kissed the corner of your mouth. “For later then.”

You triumphantly smirk and peck his lips for good measure. Despite being cold turkey from sex, you knew punishing him by having him wait was the best part. You pushed yourself off him and rejoiced to the warm feeling of his chest. Defeated, Katsuki begrudgingly snaked his arms around you, kissing the crown of your forehead. He had to admit, he’d rather enjoy your body next to his than underneath all sweaty with lust. Don’t be fooled, he loves that too.

“What’s taking that brat so long-“

A loud beep startled both you and Katsuki to sit up straight in bed. It was your fire alarm. An alarm that hasn’t gone off since when you first moved in. Katsuki activated his quirk by accident one time in the kitchen, emitting the same annoying blast of noise this morning.

Leaving the bed in shambles, you both hurried out the door in search for your daughter. A foul scent of smoke and ash was wafting through the air. What you weren’t expecting was for the living room and kitchen to be perfectly pristine of any flames or smoke. You checked the perimeter of the area a second time to make sure you weren’t going crazy. Nothing. Maybe the fire alarm was glitching out? You were pull out of your daze when Katsuki slipped on his own feet coming out from the long hallway.

“I think I found out where the smoke is coming from,” he said breathlessly.

He dragged you along with him to your daughters room. Scared and confused, you turn the nob and slowly open the door. There sat your daughter, in the middle of the room laughing hysterically at something. She then noticed you two standing there and smiled widely. Gosh, she looked so much like her father there.

“Mommy daddy, look what I can do!” She said before plugging her nose and lighting herself on fire.

You’d think, this image would scare you, but no. You stared at awe towards your inflamed daughter, basking in at how the flames protected her body and moved with her. It finally came the day where your child’s quirk manifested. She was basically a lone torch. Katsuki mirrored the same emotions you were feeling as well. Your daughter extinguished herself and trailed over to where you both stood. She hugged your lovers leg, cranking her head to where they can directly look at each other.

“Does this mean I can be like you daddy? I can be a future hero just like you?”

Katsuki couldn’t help but to chuckle and bend down to grab her and place her on his hip.

“Just don’t be hanging out with extras when you’re older kiddo.” He reached around and started tickling her aggressively on the sides.

“I promise d-dad n-no stupid extras!” Her laugh with the combination of Katsukis childish taunts was like music to your ears.

And that wasn’t the last of the rude awakening mornings. Nevertheless, you cherished them more now than ever.

-

(Might be a reoccurring story bc I love daddy katsuki with a torch daughter)

[for-fucks-sake-h]

At My Weakest - one

rated: m, mature | word count: 3.2k | story page  

...tangled up in heartbeats and bite marks and body heat. 

   - butterflies rising 

When Gianna was young, she used to have elaborate daydreams of what her life would look like in the future.  Where would she live? What would she be doing? She thought about it in the way that a lot of kids wish away their youth, wanting to be independent and take care of herself, not have her parents constantly on her case telling her what to do. She worked hard through school, was a straight A student, followed the rules, graduated at the top of her class, had a good job, had her shit together.  

Seemingly, her life looked pretty good from the outside.  But that was the thing about looking from the outside in. You never truly know what goes on behind closed doors.  

She slammed the door so hard the walls shuddered, the trim cracking the tiniest bit around the framing. Fuck, she wished she could slam it harder. Take out all her aggressions and just slam it, over and over and over again.  

She didn’t though. She took off towards her car instead, the sound of her name being called a distant echo as her heart hammered in her chest. Her blood was boiling, her hand shaking as she reached for the chrome door handle so that she could lock herself inside. Her breathing was erratic, her chest rising and falling harshly as she pressed her head back against the leather headrest.  Her throat burned with emotion as her pulse beat wildly, the threat of tears ready and waiting at her lash line.  Deep breaths; one, two, three.  Not without slamming her palm down on the top steering wheel in frustration; one, two, three.  

She released one more deep exhale, her body practically sinking into the seat with it.  She couldn’t help but glance at herself in the rearview mirror, her eyes noticeably dark and soulless.  

How did she get here?  

That was the question running through her mind as she reversed out of the parking spot, as she drove down the highway, as she circled around her town in an attempt to clear her head. She wasn’t even sure how she ended up at Gemma’s, but all of a sudden she was parked outside her building.  

It only took one buzz and a soft “it’s me” into the intercom for the latch to open.   

“Hiya babe, you okay?”  The concern was written all over her friend's face, a telltale sign that Gianna looked even worse for wear than she thought.  

“Is it okay if I stay here for a bit?”  

It wasn’t even a question, Gianna knew that. She’d known Gemma nearly her whole life. They grew up across the street from each other, Gemma’s family moving for her mum’s job. One bike accident and two scraped knees when they were six made them inseparable. Their families became so close that they even started vacationing together. They all got older, but it never changed.    

Gemma nodded, not pressing the issue. “Come on, I’ll make you coffee.”  

That was all Gianna needed, just the comfort from someone who truly knew her. She thought Steve knew her. Shit, she thought she knew him too. They had plans - nothing concrete, but talked about enough that Gianna felt like the rug had been pulled out from under her. She could feel the ache of it in her chest with every breath, and it was excruciating.  

“What am I gonna do?” Gianna asked after a while, two coffees and a half a box of pound cake later.  

“I don’t think you need to figure that out just yet, babe.”  Gemma’s tone was soft, gentle - comfort was something that came naturally to her.  

“All my stuff is there. I don’t even want to look at him,” Gianna shook her head with a frown, eyes cast down to her half empty mug.  

“I’ll have Harry call him,” Gemma devised. “We’ll figure out a time for you to go over when he isn’t there for you to collect your shit.”    

A frustrated growl came from the back of Gianna’s throat as she looked up to the ceiling. “What about tomorrow? How am I supposed to tell my parents?”

Gianna desperately didn’t want to go through this.  They were not engaged, but they might have well been.  Five years was a long time to be with someone just to have things not work out. Their lives were so intertwined, her parents loved him, Gianna knew her mum was counting down until she could start wedding planning. Fuck, Gianna was ready to start wedding planning. She was ready for the next step in her life, a family of her own. She wanted it with Steve. And poof, all that was gone in the blink of an eye.  

“G,” Gemma sighed, a sympathetic look on her face. “Tell them when you’re ready. You don’t owe anything to anyone except yourself.”  

Gianna didn’t say anything else. What more could she say? She didn’t even want to acknowledge that this was her new reality. Years of being in a perfectly content bubble popped so quickly it made her head spin.  So she nodded as she toyed with the handle of her mug.  

“Come on,” Gemma nodded towards the hallway. “You wanna change into some sweats?”  

It didn’t even register that she was still dressed in her work attire, which was a feat in and of itself since she usually changed as soon as she got home. Her “home” closing in on her seemed to be enough of a distraction to the now overly prominent tightness of her skirt cinching into her waist.

So Gianna followed Gemma into her room at the end of the hall, and exhaled a sigh of relief as she unzipped the mid length silk skirt that made her feel pretty and complimented her skin tone. The sheer, black dress shirt that she had tucked into it fell away from her skin once the skirt loosened, and she was quick to tug on the joggers and exceptionally soft lavender sweater that Gemma left on her bed for her.  It smelled like vanilla and detergent, and somehow that gave Gianna just enough comfort to not stay in Gemma’s bed for the foreseeable future.  

It wasn’t until later that evening, with a pitch black sky above her and the cool September air biting at her cheeks as she sat on the rooftop that it really started to feel like everything around her was crumbling. She didn’t let herself cry until then - until she knew she was alone and could let it out without an audience.  She hated crying in front of people, and as much as she loved Gemma, she just didn’t have the energy to let herself go there. But now? Now, it was coming full force whether she wanted it or not.    

The sound of the metal storm door opening startled Gianna enough to make her jump, her sweater paw immediately going to her face to cover the tear that had just fallen.  

She peaked over her shoulder after a moment only to find Harry pouting in the doorway, seemingly deciding if he should trudge forward or not. Gianna turned away from him, back toward the city lights as she pulled the bottom of her sweater down over her knees. She wrapped her hands in the sleeves even more as the wind blew a strip of hair across her face, and let her head fall to peer down at her knees when she heard the door slam closed.

The silence was deafening as he appeared at her side, moving to sit next to her on the picnic table situated at the corner of the roof.  His ripped jean clad knee knocked against hers once he was seated on the table top, the side of his boot pressing against her socked foot where it rested on the bench seat, his palm finding its way to her shoulder blade.

Gianna leaned into him as her chin wobbled. Soothing circles were rubbed into her back, but the gesture only expedited the tear from slipping down her cheek. 

“Gems told me. ‘M sorry, love.” His voice was gentle despite the deep timbre of it vibrating near her ear as he pressed his jaw against the top of her head.  

It felt like too much time had passed before Gianna spoke up, her voice low and broken. “How do you just… fall out of love with someone?”  

Harry shook his head against her temple, his arm wrapping around her to pull her closer into his side - an attempt to shield her from the onslaught of disappointment coursing through her veins.    

“I don’t know, G.”  

She sighed heavily. “I was supposed to marry him, and he just... broke up with me. Like it was nothing.”  

“Did he say anything?”  

Gianna pulled away from Harry’s side, wiping the sleeves of her sweater under her eyes in an attempt to collect herself.  “Said he ‘couldn’t do this anymore’, whatever the fuck that means.”  

Harry released a deep breath as he shook his head in disgust. For as long as Gianna and Gemma had been friends, Gianna and Harry were friends too. They weren’t super close, not the way the girls were, but they were friends nonetheless, and he hated seeing her hurt like that.

“Makes me think he didn’t love me at all,” Gianna continued. “How did I not see that?”

“If that’s true, he fooled all of us, love.”

Gianna didn’t say anything for a bit, just looked up to the dark sky as tears burned at her lower lash line. Harry stayed quiet as he watched her with a deep crease etched between his brows.

“I feel so fucking worthless,” she whispered eventually, her voice so solemn it ripped right through him.

“Hey,” he practically called, but she didn’t look at him. “You are not worthless.” Gianna shook her head, disagreeing. “Gianna. Stop it.” Harry wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “His fucking loss. If he doesn’t know a good thing when he has it, fuck him.”  

“It’s not that simple.” Gianna leaned into his side once more, finding comfort in the way his fingers gripped her shoulder.

He hummed as he squeezed her shoulder once more. “It is. You’re too good for him anyway.”  

Gianna snorted a soft laugh as she shook her head with a gentle jab of her elbow into his side. “Easy for you to say.”    

“‘M serious. Way out of his league. In every sense.”    

Harry gave the compliment with as much ease as he would with a stranger at a bar in the hopes of taking them home at the end of the night. He was charming that way, a smug sort of confidence wafting around him without any actual effort on his part.

Gianna wasn’t sure why, or how, but the compliment gave her just enough of a boost of confidence to make her feel a bit better.  

Maybe Harry was right. Hell, maybe he was right about everything he’s been saying over the years. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in a serious relationship. He avoided the mess. He avoided the drama. For as long as Gianna had busted his chops for it, maybe he knew something she didn’t all along.  

“You look like you’re thinking too much,” Harry commented when Gianna went quiet in her thoughts.  

“No, I don’t know. Maybe you’re right.”

“Course I am,” he nodded surely. “Have I ever steered you wrong?”  

She gave him a pointed look, which simply received a chuckle in response and nothing else.  They both went quiet as they looked out over the city.  Despite it being the middle of the night, it still seemed alive with the buildings roof top lights spreading out in the distance.  

If there was one thing Gianna knew after the day she had, it was that she hated feeling the way she did. It had been a while since she felt so down on herself, let alone being let down by someone who she thought she could count on… forever.  It put a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she hated it.    

Harry spoke up after a while, the tone of his voice just enough of a tease to make Gianna’s skin prickle. “You know what they say, G.”  

“What’s that?” she turned to him, watching as he kept his eyes focused on the city ahead of him.  

“The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”  

She held her breath without even realizing she was doing it, before slowly exhaling as she watched Harry turn ever so slowly to catch her eyes. She literally couldn’t help it, her reaction was immediate, the most subtle tingle crawling across her skin.

They teased and joked with each other plenty over the years. But somehow, in some way, Harry’s words felt different.  The way he was looking at her felt different. Like he was dying to see her reaction but refusing to give in. His eyes were dark on the dimly lit roof, but completely focused on her.  

Harry didn’t dare move, just stared back into her curious brown eyes, his mouth forming around the words faster than his brain could catch us. “Sounds to me like you just need a distraction.”  

“Are you offering?” Gianna’s response was so quick it made a shudder fall down Harry’s back.  And although Harry’s face was completely at ease, his eyes were fixated on the curve of her Cupid’s bow.  

Harry’s eyes flicked up to meet hers. “Do you want me to be?”

That was enough to have Gianna’s body lean in on its own accord, her mouth catching his in a slow lingering kiss.

He tasted like the faintest bit of tequila and whatever his choice of spearmint gum was that evening, and it was intoxicating. His lips were soft but reacted immediately, suctioning to her bottom lip in an attempt to keep her there.

Just as quickly as it happened, Gianna was pulling away, the sound of their lips parting reverberating off of thin air.

She closed her eyes and turned back towards the city. “I’m sorry I don’t know what—”

But just as quickly, Harry’s hand reached for her jaw to pull her back to him, immediately interrupting her apology in favor of slanting their lips together once more.

This time, his fingers gently cupped her jaw as his mouth reeled her in further. It was like a knee jerk reaction, or when you haven’t had your favorite chocolate for a while and then can’t get enough of it.

He couldn’t get enough of her.

Gianna’s hand gripped his wrist, her mouth melting into his, head fuzzy and buzzing. And when Harry’s tongue teased, she found her own mouth opening more to let him in.

God, she welcomed him in, her tongue smoothing over his in a way that pulled the most toe curling chill up her spine. The kind that makes your skin erupt in goosebumps and your belly twist with something; need, desire, lust. Whatever it was, it had Gianna’s cheeks warming and her back arching closer to Harry.

And Harry, he was so far gone he felt like his head might explode. She was so warm, and she curved into him perfectly when he wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her closer, fingers still clenched softly at her neck to keep her still. The softness of her breasts against his chest was enough to light a fire in his stomach, desperate to be as close to her as physically possible. The flesh of her hip was pliant under his palm, fingers digging into her skin, subconsciously not wanting her to slip away. But maybe not so subconsciously after all.

His lips smoothed down her chin and across her jaw, nipping softly as a breathy moan slipped past Gianna’s lips. The sound had Harry sucking eagerly into the warm skin of her neck, kiss after sucking kiss being planted upon her soft skin. He could feel her pulse thrumming against his mouth, his own heart beat matching methodically.

“God, what are we doing?” Gianna whispered up into the open sky as her hands squeezed his shoulders.

Harry pulled away from her neck just then to check her face. “Do you wanna stop?”

“No,” she breathed, her mouth finding his waiting lips with a hum.

He kissed her hard, his mouth so insistent on sucking and pulling on her lips that Gianna felt like he was taking her breath with him. His mouth was soft exactly the way it should be, but strong all in the same. Demanding, urgent, salacious. Kissing him was almost too enjoyable.

Gianna’s hand smoothed down the strong expanse of Harry’s shoulder, nails scratching against the hard muscle beneath the soft skin of his bicep. The goosebumps there could have been attributed to the cool evening air, but Gianna knew better.

Especially when her fingers trailed the rest of the way down his side and across the top of his thigh, her palm resting on the center seam of his jeans.

Her eyes were closed despite her head tilting down, pulling her lips from his as their foreheads met softly.

“You’re hard.”  Her words were just above a whisper. It was obvious, but she couldn’t help commenting on it. She could feel the firmness of his cock beneath his jeans, hot and full against her palm.

“You made me hard,” he leaned in to kiss her cheek gently. “You’re so fucking sexy. And beautiful. Y’smell like heaven. Fuck.” His words traveled down her neck, his mouth finding the edge of her sweater to suck a new kiss on a new piece of skin. He wanted to uncover every piece of skin to leave traces of his mouth on.

“It’s my perfume.” Gianna’s rebuttal was soft as she tilted her head back to grant him more space; more skin for him to suck tiny kisses into.

She palmed him over his jeans, the twitch of his hard length making her swallow thickly with desire.

“Think it’s just you,” Harry commented wistfully.

Gianna’s fingers toyed with the button of his jeans, his zipper lowering ever so slowly as Harry’s tongue smoothed over her skin before sucking gently.

“Is this okay?” she asked softly as her hand smoothed into his snug jeans, feeling the hardness of his length over his briefs.

His head tilted back with a soft moan while his fingers squeezed her waist tighter, as if her gentle touch was too much for him.

“You tell me,” he breathed as his cock twitched against her palm, his body begging for more from her. “Are you okay?”

That was the age old question, wasn’t it? Was she okay?

Gianna wasn’t sure. She knew she would be, eventually at least. But in that moment, all she knew was that Harry made her... feel. For as long as she’d been numb, he was making her feel alive in that moment. And he made her forget, and that was what she wanted.

“We don’t have to—” Harry began, but was quickly cut off by Gianna pushing forward to press her lips to his jaw, her tongue smooth out over the sharp indent before her lips sucked softly.

His moan was addictive. The firmness of his length was impressive to say the least. His hands felt like molten lava where he gripped her waist. And Gianna’s skin burned with intrigue.

“Let’s go to your room.”

A/N: Ha! Can you believe we’re doing this again??? After I said no more series for a while?? Well, here we are... I really hope you liked it! Lots of people to thank for helping me get my ass in gear - so huge thank you to @oh-honey-styles @andwhenshesays @real-work-of-art​ @harrytheehottie​ @all-things-fic​ @haute-romance-quotidienne​ for all the hand holding and support and hyping and encouragement and just being overall wonderful humans... you guys have my heart, seriously. And if you’ve read this far - thank you! I would love to hear your thoughts! Lots more to come xx 

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