#i guess i will hold off a bit longer <- girl who literally has the hardest life of anyone ever | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whatdoeseverybodywant · 9 months

Text

You're the Only Girl for Me - Chapter 10

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE

All OC Characters belong to me

Series Masterlist

Taglist: @christinabae @southerngirl41 @reci1996 @jeyusos-girl @jeyusosgirl @melaninsugababy @bemybabiibish @jstarr86 @baconeggndcheez @nbanenefrmdao @purplehairgawdess @arination99 @alyyaanna @m3llowww @gomussy @harmshake @jeysbae @empressdede @theninthwonder @badbitchcentralinc @romansnumberonegirl @bluesole16 @bebesobrielo @venusesworld @babysyhsyh

if your name is bold, tumblr won’t let me tag you

JANUARY 1st 2021 - Tropicana Field

Airielle was in hell. There was quite literally no other way to put it. Kayla had gone home before the special taping of Talking Smack and guess who had to fill in for her. But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was sitting across from her, glaring while she tried to ask him questions.

“Be professional” She heard Heyman whisper. She didn’t know if he was talking to her or Josh but she nodded anyway. Clearing her throat, she looked down at her notes before looking back at Josh who was still glaring at her.

“Okay um- so Jey. My first question is, Everytime Roman Reigns has successfully defended his universal title it’s because you interfered - you’ve gotten involved.” Jey and Heyman shared a look of amusement. “So Roman’s tenure as Universal Champion, do you think the credit belongs to Roman Reigns or does the credit belong to you?”

“You know what. It’s a real simple question for me to answer. - ” Jey started still glaring but more so in character now and not glaring at Airielle because he was pissed of with her.

“Hold on, I-In all candor and I’m just a co-host here.” Heyman cut Jey off and Airielle sucked her teeth quietly and rolled her eyes.

“Mr. Heyman -”

“Now I do not serve as special counsel to Mr. Uso.” He cut her off. “I serve as counsel to Mr Uso’s cousin Roman Reigns. However, I have been associated and friends with Mr Uso’s entire family since I was fifteen years old.” Airielle huffed and started at Heyman with a stoic expression. She cut her eyes over at Josh who wasn’t glaring anymore but now he was just staring. She took in a deep breath before turning her attention back to Heyman.

“I’ve known his family longer than he’s known his family. “

“Facts” Jey cut in with a smirk and Airielle rolled her eyes again. Heyman then turned to Jey

“If I were you I would invoke my fifth amendment right against self incrimination” Airielle groaned and palmed her forehead. And that’s how the rest of the interview went, Airielle asked Jey questions only for them to be answered by Paul in a condensing way. Every single question. Towards the end of the interview Airielle was kind of getting mad for real just by the way this man kept glaring and rolling his eyes at her.

Airielle let out a sigh of relief once the show was over. She smiled and thanked Heyman before jumping up from the table and making a beeline towards the empty women’s locker room to wait for her uber.

As soon as she stood from the table Josh was hot on her heels. She had tried to shut the door in his face but he easily pushed it open.

“Can we not do whatever this is tonight?” She huffed and motioned between the two of them. “I’m tired and I have a plane to catch.” Josh crossed his arms over his chest and bit the inside of his lip as he stared at her. She narrowed her eyes at him once he started laughing at her. “What the hell is so funny?”

“Man, you!” He exclaimed. “You keep pushing me away and I don’t understand why.”

“I'm not pushing-”

“You are,” He cut her off. “You pushed me away when you realized you was feeling me and now you pushing me away cause I mentioned that my kids want to meet you.” He sighed and walked closer to her. “How we supposed to build up to a relationship if you keep running away?” Airielle stared at him with wide eyes. Her mouth kept opening and closing but nothing was coming out.

She knew why she was running away from Josh; she just couldn’t tell him why. Just thinking about Christopher made her want to throw up. When she didn’t say anything, he sighed and backed away from her.

“You gotta grow up and get your shit together Airielle. You can’t keep living in the past.” He shook his head at her before turning and walking out of the locker room.

JANUARY 2ND 2021 - Pensacola FL

Airielle & Yasmine’s Apartment

Yasmine’s left eye twitched as she looked at Airielle. “I’ve been telling you for the past 2 years that you gon wind up missing out on a good ass man because you can’t seem to let go of the past and now look. I was right.” Airielle rolled her eyes.

“This is not an ‘i told you so’ moment Yas.” Airielle huffed as she sunk lower into the couch.

“No, this is an ‘i told you so moment’ because you fucked up. Did you know this man was learning Haitian Creole so he could communicate with granmè?” No she did not know that. “Yeah, Jon caught him using duolingo to learn creole. to communicate. with our grandmother. For you.”

Airielle huffed again and crossed her arms. “So what am I supposed to do now?”

“Girl,” Yasmine huffed and reached over to doink her cousin on her forehead. “Use your big brain.” When Airielle just stared over at her, Yas rolled her eyes. “Go apologize to him.” Yas stood up and grabbed Airi’s hands, pulling her up too and pushing her towards the door. “Go tell him why you keep ghosting him and then let him know whether or not you want to continue to build a relationship with him. You can’t keep stringing him along.”

Sighing, Airielle nodded her head and slipped her feet into her shoes and grabbed her car keys, before leaving the apartment.

Airielle wiped her sweaty hands on her legging before ringing the doorbell at Jon and Trinity’s house. She had gone over what she wanted to say to Josh five times before actually getting the courage to get out of her car and knock on the door.

“Airielle?” Trinity actually looked surprised to see her there. “Wassup?”

Airielle gave her a nervous smile. “Is Josh here? I just wanted to talk to him.” Airielle bit her lip and shuffled from foot to foot as she waited for Trinity’s response. Now, Trinity being the good sister-in-law that she is was not going to let Airielle in. Not after she done ghosted Josh two times.

But, the fact that Airielle had driven all the way over there to speak to him instead of just texting or calling Josh kind of warmed her heart.

“He’s not here. But he should be back soon, you wanna come in?” Airielle gave her a tight-lipped smile and nodded before following Trinity into the house and shutting the door behind her.

Josh scoffed as he pulled into the driveway and seen Airielle’s Jeep parked on the street in front of the house.

“Um, whose car is that?” Jon asked, limping towards it, to peep into the windows.

“It’s Rih’s.” Josh responded back, grabbing the groceries out of the trunk. “Aye man, yo knee is fucked up, not your arms, come get some of these bags.” Jon flipped him off before limping back over and grabbing one back causing Josh to glare at him.

“She looks like the type to drive a Jeep.” Josh stopped walking and stared at his twin brother.

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“Shit, I don’t know. I was just tryna make conversation.” Josh sucked in a deep breath and rolled his eyes. “What you think she here for?” Josh shrugged. He hoped she was there to apologize for ghosting his ass, but he wasn’t holding his breath. If he was being honest, she probably wasn’t even there for him, she probably came over to hang out with Trinity.

Airielle felt her heart rate kick into overdrive when she heard the front door open. She smiled at Jon when he limped into the room and plopped down on the couch next to Trinity and across from her.

She stood up when Josh entered the living room. “Hey.” She whispered and gave him a small wave. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes when he gave her a head nod in response.

“Can we talk?” She asked and rolled her eyes when nodded his head over to the kitchen and turned to walk away without saying a word. Once his back was turned she stuck her tongue out at him causing Jon to snicker at her.

When she walked into the kitchen he was already sitting at the table, so she walked over and sat in the chair across from him. “Whatchu’ wanna talk to me about?” He asked, staring at her with a stoic expression.

“I wanted to apologize,” She said, staring right back at him. “For ghosting you once you brought up your kids.” She tried to reach across the table to grab his hand but he moved them and placed them on his lap.

“You knew I had kids.” He stated and she nodded. “So what was the problem? Everything was fine until I said my kids wanted to meet you.”

“Your kids are not the problem. I promise.” He narrowed his eyes at her.

“So what’s the pro-”

“I’m scared of going to that next step with you.” She cut him off. “The last relationship I was in started off just like this. I didn’t want to date him. I wanted to focus on graduating and starting my career but after getting to know him I gave in.” She sighed and looked down at her hands. “In the beginning Chris was so nice and sweet. He would bring me flowers every time he saw me, he would run across campus after his class was over just so he could be waiting outside of my lecture for me.” She stopped talking and took a deep breath, trying her hardest not to cry. “Just like how you would bring me flowers and how you would wait outside of the meeting rooms for me at the arena.”

He opened his mouth to say something to her but quickly shut it and let her continue.

“He met my family and I met his and I even met his two-year-old son.” She dared to look up at him and saw that he was now staring at her intently, she cleared her throat and looked back down at her hands, wringing them together. “After he asked me to be his girlfriend everything changed, it was like his niceness was a ruse. He led me into this false sense of security. I believed everything he ever told me about taking care of me and being just about me. One day he just snapped, going out with friends was a problem, going to a study group that had boys was a problem. I guess he felt like he needed to prove that he was the alpha male and he put his hands on me.” She took a deep breath and shrugged.

“You already know about the last time cause Josiah told you but, the first time he put his hands on me,it didn’t feel real. Just thinking about it now it’s like damn what did I do that made him that damn mad at me.” The tears she was trying to hold back fell as she remembered what her life was like a couple of years ago. Josh sighed and stood up from his chair and crouched down beside her, grabbing her hands.

“Airielle, look at me.” When she didn’t he gently grabbed her chin and made her look at him, with his other hand he wiped away her tears. “You know I ain’t like that. You know that whatever we got goin on ain’t nothing like what you had with him.”

“All my brain knows is that this situation seems familiar and I need to get out of it.”

“So, is that what you want to do Rih? You wanna just go back to being friends?” When she shook her head he sighed. “So whatchu wanna do Airielle?”

“I don’t know.” She whispered, looking into his eyes. “I don’t want to be your friend. I want to be with you but I also don’t want to keep putting you through this. Everytime something serious comes up I run and that’s something I can’t help.”

Josh sighed and stood up, pulling Airielle to her feet as well. He pulled her into his arms and wrapped her in a tight hug. “I wanna be witchu too. But I need you to understand that I'm not him.” He pulled away from the hug just enough so they could look each other in the eye. “And stop running from me man, I’m tryna love on you and shit.” He smiled at her once she laughed.

“Ok, nomore running. I promise.” She stood on her tippy toes and placed a soft kiss on his lips, letting out an unexpected moan when he grabbed the back of her head, deepening the kiss.

“And I promise imma treat you right.” He whispered once they broke the kiss, his forehead resting on hers. “I got you, Aight?” He asked and she nodded before placing another kiss on his lips.

Whew! They're finally together!!!

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

132 notes · View notes

woman-of-balnain · 2 years

Text

Possession (Alpha Rick x Omega Reader)

Prev. Work | Collection Masterlist | AO3 Ver. | Next Work

Pairing: Rick Grimes/Fem!Reader

Summary: After catching another alpha making unwanted advances on you, Rick makes the younger man watch as he claims you all over again, showing that you are indisputably his.

Set in the early Alexandria days (s5).

A light sequel to my other story, ‘the Claim’, but this can be read independently.

A/N: If you haven’t read ‘the Claim’, basically Reader is Hershel’s daughter but can be read as any race (as in you can picture her as adopted etc.).

If you have read it, then just note that Lori still died giving birth to Judith, making Shane completely lose his sanity and he’s no longer around either (the reason why can be left up to your imagination). Like in the show, Rick has adopted Judith as his own and you both act as her parents but that is only mentioned and doesn’t play any serious role in this oneshot.

I’m really unsure about this one because the scenario is pretty fucked up lmao but hopefully it’s not complete and utter trash 😅

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, there’s some non-consensual kissing and touching from an original male character, Rick being feral, dominant, possessive and a little bit dark, submissive reader, smut, brief orgasm delay/denial, unprotected sex, creampie, established relationship, Rick and reader are true mates, reverse-voyeurism I guess? Since Rick is literally getting off by making someone else watch... reader is female and wears traditionally female clothing.

Word Count: 3,989

Dividers by: @newlips + @cafekitsune

Rick couldn’t help but feel uneasy and keep his guard up in the early days after arriving in Alexandria. After losing the farm and then later the prison, it was only natural that the whole group felt on edge. It felt too good to be true and it reminded him a little of Woodbury, making him wonder if Alexandria was also putting up some kind of front.

Ultimately though, Rick wanted it to be everything it presented itself as, because the group needed a win after the hell they’d all been through. So, Rick was determined to try and make it work; and he knew that he could eventually – at least once he put a certain alpha in his place.

It hadn’t escaped his attention how a younger alpha kept hanging around you, his omega. It bothered him, deep down, that the other man was closer to you in age and the way he made you laugh and smile with whatever stupid things he was saying.

But Rick knew that the interactions were just friendly on your part. Your eyes had never strayed in all the time you’d been together, but that didn’t subdue the possessiveness he felt over you. The problem was the other alpha, Dylan, and the clear interest he had in you, despite you being claimed by Rick long ago.

The way he touched you – light brushes against your skin that could have easily been explained away as an accident, but Rick knew it was much more than that – it made his blood boil. Rick had seen you grow uncomfortable more than once, but your new job, assigned to you by Deanna, meant that you would have to work closely with the other alpha. He didn’t like it, but he knew that he had nothing solid to prove that Dylan was doing anything wrong. At least not yet.

His irritation only got worse when he came back to the house you’d been given, early in the evening one day after he’d been discussing things with Deanna. Because the first thing he saw was Carol, holding Judith, and no sign of you. The two of you had adopted the little girl as your own after Lori’s death, so the fact that you weren’t the one looking after her was out of the ordinary. His eyes scanned the rest of the living room, but you were nowhere to be found and it set him on edge.

“She went off to help someone,” the beta woman told him calmly, sensing his uneasiness.

“Who?” He grit out, already knowing the likely answer.

“Dylan,” she replied with a hint of trepidation, knowing he wouldn’t like it. “Wanted some advice on that wild horse that was brought in.”

It was a logical reason to ask for your help, since you had plenty of experience with horses due to growing up on the farm. Not to mention the fact that Dylan was in charge of looking after any livestock in Alexandria and you were tasked with working alongside him. But Rick knew there had to be an ulterior motive on the other alpha’s part, so he didn’t even say another word to Carol before he turned and headed back out the door in search of you.

You were in the stables of Alexandria, stroking along the nose of the wild, yet beautiful mare that had been successfully captured, trying to calm it as it grew restless in its stall.

“I’ll try to spend some time with her every day,” you told Dylan, your attention still on the mare. “Gain her trust first before we try to do anything with her.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” the young alpha replied, moving closer to you.

His arm brushed against yours and you tried to ignore the uncomfortable feeling growing inside of you. You turned to face him and tried to put some distance between you both, but he just kept coming closer.

“You know,” he said, getting right up in your space. “It’s gonna be really nice having you around here to help.”

“Uh… thanks?” You replied, dread filling you at the way he wouldn’t stop coming closer and closer.

“And it’s just an added bonus that you’re easy on the eyes,” he continued, looking you up and down.

He had backed you up against the nearest wall and now his scent was all around you. It was suffocating and unpleasant, because it wasn’t Rick’s familiar and comforting scent. The fear just grew inside you at the lack of your alpha’s presence.

“Dylan... Rick will lose it if he hears you say something like that,” you warned, knowing better than anyone just how protective your alpha could be.

“That old man?” He scoffed, causing anger to rise within you. “What’s he gonna do?”

Dylan pressed his body against yours and you struggled, trying to move away, but he took hold of your arms and pinned you in place.

“Come on, Omega,” he tried to convince you and you hated the way that word sounded coming from his mouth. “You need a real Alpha. One who can keep up with you.”

If only he knew… you thought to yourself, thinking that you were the one usually left exhausted as you tried to keep up with Rick’s stamina.

“What?” You asked, with annoyance, trying to mask your discomfort. “Someone like you? Give me a break…”

“Don’t worry,” he snarled, his face so close that you were forced to look him in the eye. “I’ll make you forget him. I’ll make it so the only name you remember is mine.”

“Seriously,” you fought against him again. “Just cut it out. You don’t want to see him angry.”

“You reek of him,” was Dylan’s only response.

“What do you expect? He’s my mate.”

“That’s never stopped me before,” he grinned.

He pushed his hips against you so that you could feel how excited he was by the idea. It only repulsed you and made you turn your head away in disgust.

“Please, don’t do this…” you pleaded with him, truly scared now as you realised the full depth of his intentions.

“That’s right,” he chuckled darkly. “Beg, little Omega.”

Then he took hold of your face roughly, turning it back to look at him before his lips forced themselves onto yours. You kicked your legs and grunted against him in anger, trying desperately to get away, but his hold on you was steadfast and you weren’t able to escape.

You hated it, every fibre of your being screaming out that this was wrong and wondering where the hell Rick was. It was more than just another man forcing himself on you. It was like trying to mess with nature, because the claiming bite Rick had placed on your neck linked you to him intrinsically. It joined you physically and emotionally, so another man touching you was like torture.

You gasped for air, relief filling your body when Dylan’s body was ripped away from yours. The relief didn’t last long, though, because you caught sight of your alpha, enraged and completely out of control. You wiped the back of your hand against your mouth, wishing you could erase what had just happened.

Rick was fuming and pushed the other alpha to the ground before plummeting his fists into the younger alpha’s face. His eyes were feral with an untamed fury over another man touching you in that way.

“Rick…” you called out softly, trying to get his attention.

Despite his anger being completely warranted, and the way you still felt disgusted over the other alpha’s unwanted touch, you needed Rick to calm down. Because if he didn’t, it could jeopardise the new home you had all found.

But Rick either didn’t hear you or refused to listen, continuing to brutally beat the other alpha down into the ground. You winced when you heard the tell-tale sound of bones breaking and saw the way Dylan’s head whipped to the side from the force of Rick’s assault.

When most of the younger man’s face was a mix of dark bruising and bright, red blood, Rick finally let up, his chest heaving and his eyes still absolutely feral. He stood up, leaving Dylan on the ground, the younger man coughing and wheezing in his defeat.

Then Rick’s gaze met your terrified one and his expression softened as he made his way over to you. His eyes and hands searched you frantically, making sure that you were okay, and you looked at the broken skin of his knuckles with concern.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” his voice cracked as he spoke, and then he was resting his forehead against yours.

“F-for what?” You stammered out, still in shock from it all.

“I wasn’t here,” he elaborated, his hands resting protectively on your hips. “To stop him from doing that to you."

“You’re here now,” you pointed out, your fingers stroking soothing patterns across his cheek. “But… you shouldn’t have done that. Won’t Deanna get mad?”

You looked over at the other alpha, still lying on the ground, but now unmoving. Seeing the way your concern only deepened, Rick followed your gaze and his mood darkened again. He moved away from you, striding back over to the man who was the reason for his current rage.

Bending down, he grabbed hold of the collar of the younger man’s shirt with one hand, pulling him up slightly before he hit across Dylan’s face with his other hand. The other alpha startled back awake with a groan, eyes barely keeping open from how swollen they’d become.

Rick pulled him up, dragging his body until it was propped up against the wall that he’d previously held you against. Then, he bent right down to look straight into the other alpha’s eyes, every part of him seething as he was only just holding back from killing the younger man.

“No, you don’t get to pass out,” Rick drawled out, voice low and gruff with barely restrained fury. “You’re gonna watch. You’re gonna see everything and take it all in until you understand that she’s mine. And afterwards, assuming that you get to live, if you ever even look at her again, I’ll do more than just break your jaw.”

You stared at your alpha with confusion, wondering what exactly he intended for the other man to see. Then Rick stepped back before turning to look at you again and the unrestrained lust that entered his eyes as he took you in made you both nervous and excited.

“Rick…” you said again, backing up and away from him.

He stalked you like you were his prey, but it was different to when the other alpha had done it. Because Rick was yours and you were his. And sooner or later, he would have you however he wanted you. Your back hit resistance and you realised that you were trapped again, but now there was only desire and anticipation filling you at the thought of what he had in mind.

“Omega,” he said lowly, caging your body with his. “Tell me what he said to you. What he wanted to do.”

Your eyes widened at his request, but you had never seen him so completely feral, so raw with anger. Reluctantly, you decided to obey him, not wanting to push him any further.

“He…”

You faltered, feeling nervous, but Rick gave you a reassuring look, telling you he wouldn’t be angry. Not with you anyway.

“He… he said he would show me what a real alpha is like…” you admitted hesitantly.

Rick’s gaze darkened, but he didn’t interrupt. You didn’t like repeating it, but deep down, in the darkest depths of your mind, you enjoyed how possessive he was of you. That alone gave you the courage to continue.

“He wanted to take me, despite the fact I’m yours. Wanted me to beg him to stop…”

You looked away, but that was enough for Rick. He gently turned your head back to face him and rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip tenderly.

“I’m here now,” he repeated your earlier words. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You nodded, trusting him completely and he leaned forward, bringing his lips to yours. The familiar, but no less perfect sensation made all of the tension you felt fade away. His mouth reclaimed your own, washing away any traces of the other alpha and reminding you that you were Rick’s and his alone. His to claim, his to protect and his to love.

Just like every other time that he kissed you, the world around you seemed to melt away and you forgot that you weren’t alone. You forgot everything except for Rick. So, you gave no resistance when his hands moved up your thighs and under your skirt. Your only reaction was to let your hips buck up with need when his fingers came into contact with your core.

He pushed your flimsy panties to the side, allowing him to feel you properly and tease you senseless. You quickly grew wet, your body perfectly tuned to respond eagerly to his touch. Rick knew exactly what you wanted, understanding what drove you towards euphoric release.

He thrust his fingers inside of you, while his thumb moved over your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure. It rubbed in circular motions, occasionally flicking over the sensitive nub to stimulate you further. You moaned shamelessly, clinging to the soft lapels of his jacket.

It was that dark brown suede one, with the woollen collar that he always seemed to be wearing when he unleashed his anger on someone, after they pissed him off. Seeing him in it, earlier that day, that should have been a warning sign telling you that something bad was going to happen.

But in that moment, he had never looked more desirable as his head pulled back and you took in the raw lust in his piercing blue eyes. Tendrils of his curly hair fell down onto his face and his lips were swollen from the force of the kiss you’d just shared. He was determined to prove a point and it left you aching for him.

“You’re so wet, ‘mega,” he groaned out, fingers still plunging in and out of your pussy. “Just for me, right?”

“Only for you, Alpha,” you responded instantly, biting down on your lower lip in an attempt to stifle your moans.

“What do you want, baby?” He asked, fingers curling inside of you. “Tell me.”

“I want you,” was your breathless reply. “I need you. Your cock… inside me...”

“Beg for it.”

“What?” You asked, in a daze.

Rick pulled his fingers from you abruptly, ignoring the way you whined at the sudden empty feeling they left behind. He grabbed hold of you, turning you around until you were facing the other alpha – the man you’d forgotten was even there. He was still conscious but barely keeping his eyes open. Yet, his attention was fixed on the two of you.

“Oh god…” you whispered with embarrassment at the sudden reminder of his presence.

“Did you forget we had company, baby?” Rick asked, pressing his chest against your back as his arms held tightly to your waist. “He’s going to watch you come undone. He’s going to learn that you’re mine. Only mine.”

“Rick…”

“I told you, sweetheart,” he continued. “If you want my cock, you have to ask for it. Give him what he wanted, let him hear you beg. For me.”

“Fuck,” you groaned in response, unable to deny how turned on you were by his show of dominance.

Rick pushed down on your back, bending you forward slightly as his leg moved between yours. Your thighs spread instantly, letting him settle between them and his strong hands pushed your skirt up so that you were fully exposed to him.

Then he we went still, holding you there but no longer moving. You realised what he was waiting for, but it was humiliating to think of begging him in front of someone else.

“Omega,” he warned.

One of his hands left you and you heard the tell-tale sign of him unbuckling his belt. Just the thought of him being so close but unwilling to touch you until you did as he demanded broke your resolve.

“Oh god,” you whined out, desperate for his touch. “Please, Rick…”

The sound of his belt hitting the floor from behind you made you even more needy, because he still wasn’t touching you how you wanted him to.

“You can do better than that, ‘mega,” he replied calmly.

“Please, Alpha. Please fuck me, I need it.”

You no longer cared that you had an audience. Rick was an expert at making you come undone for him and you were at the point where you’d do anything that he asked if it meant he would give you what you so desperately craved. A deep moan escaped you when he took hold of your hips, pressing you back against him.

You realised that his pants were pulled down, allowing his hardened length to rub against you tantalisingly. But it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t where you ached for him to be.

“Go on,” he coaxed you with a groan, wanting more. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need your cock,” you replied obediently. “Only yours.”

“Why?”

“Because… oh, fuck,” you faltered briefly as his erection brushed against your clit. “Because you’re the only one who can make me feel good.”

“That’s right,” he agreed, pleased with your words. “And where do you want it, baby?”

“Rick!” You whined, unable to comprehend how he was so composed or how he still wasn’t satisfied.

“Tell me,” he insisted, one hand tugging at your hair and pulling your head back.

“I need your cock inside me,” you gave in. “Deep inside my pussy. Please, please, please… I need it so badly!”

“Such a dirty mouth,” he let out a light laugh.

“Rick, please, I can’t take it anymore.”

“Okay, baby,” he soothed you, lining himself up at your entrance. “Since you begged me so nicely.”

He didn’t wait for a response, thrusting into you hard and fast, his cock pushing in, right to the hilt. The moan that escaped you was primal and desperate as your pussy clenched around him in response.

“See how well she responds to me?” Rick asked, no longer talking to you.

Your eyes fluttered shut and you attempted to block it out. But it was impossible, because your body was so acclimated to taking in his every word.

“You know,” he continued, still pounding into you from behind. “She’s still just as tight as the first time I fucked her. This pussy was made for me. Enjoy the show, because this is the only time you’ll ever see her like this.”

“Rick,” you cried out, going crazy from the way he was speaking. “Oh god, don’t stop!”

It ashamed you how much it turned you on. You were absolutely dripping, not only from his actions, but from his possessive display of dominance.

“Hear that?” He continued taunting the other man. “This is how an alpha fucks his omega. And you? All you can do is watch.”

“Please, I’m so close…” you begged, your mind in an absolute daze.

“No,” Rick denied, his words now meant for you. “You don’t get to cum until I tell you to.”

You whined obstinately, but you both knew that he had you wrapped around his finger and that you’d do whatever he said. Your body rocked forward with every brutal thrust, and he knew exactly what he was doing to you, but he still had a point to prove.

“She’s mine,” Rick grit out, sounding like he was getting closer to the edge – of both his release and his sanity. “Every single part of her is attuned to me. If she begs, it’ll be because I tell her to. The only alpha she’s ever gonna know is me.”

It was like a sweet sense of euphoria when his hand moved down between your legs, and he brought his attention back to your aching clit.

“You’re so good to me, aren’t you baby?” He praised, his lips right by your ear.

“Yes,” you replied, desperate to cum. “Yes, only for you, Rick.”

His thumb rubbed over your sensitive nub and your pussy contracted around him in response.

“That’s it,” he coaxed you, voice low and reverberating through his chest against your back. “Cum for me sweetheart, let me feel you squeezing around me.”

“Fuck!” You moaned out desperately as he flicked his thumb over your clit and sent your body crashing over the edge.

Rick let out desperate sounds of his own as he pushed into you deeply, holding you steady against him. Then, the hand he still had holding onto your hair forced your head to tilt to the side, offering your neck to him.

His head bent down and his lips came into contact with your mating gland before he sunk his teeth into the skin, reclaiming you so that there would be no doubt about who you belonged to. You couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a scream – it was partly from pain, as the old wound was reopened, but mostly it was from a deep and intense sense of pleasure as he re-staked his claim.

Then you felt his cock twitch before he came deep inside of you, his other hand resting over your lower abdomen possessively. Rick kept you close to him, making sure you took every last drop while his tongue soothed the spot on your neck that would always keep you tied together.

He traced light patterns along your stomach, comforting you as you both came down from your high. Eventually, he pressed one last kiss to your sensitive gland before pulling back and sliding out of you. He fixed your skirt, moving it back down before he righted his own clothing, pulling his pants back up and covering himself again.

You swayed a little on the spot, still in a bit of a daze. He seemed instantly aware of how exhausted and spent your body was, because he wrapped his arms around you, turning you to face him.

“You’re okay, sweetheart,” he promised. “I’ve got you.”

Your head fell to his chest, and you let out a content sigh as he pulled you into a protective hug. When your body had settled and you were able to support yourself, Rick pulled away and brought his attention back to the other alpha.

Dylan began breathing heavily as Rick walked back over to him. But he was so beaten, bloody and bruised that he couldn’t seem to say anything. You watched as your alpha gave him one last, hard punch to the face, knocking him out cold again.

“Rick, this is not good,” you said, reality and all its repercussions coming back to you. “Once Deanna finds out –”

“Hey,” he cut you off, moving back over to you. “I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry, okay?”

His expression had softened again, and he reached out to take your hands in his. You wanted to trust him, because he’d never let you down before, but Alexandria was so different to what you’d experienced since the loss of the farm, and you didn’t want to lose the sense of security and normalcy that it provided.

“Y/N,” he held your gaze, his voice filled with conviction. “I love you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You couldn’t hold back a smile at his words, and you nodded, letting your instinct to trust him overcome all of your doubts.

“I love you too,” you replied softly.

He grinned in response, pulling you closer and capturing your lips in a gentle and loving kiss. As usual, everything else seemed to fade away until all that was left was Rick and your unwavering faith in him.

Next Work

#rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x f!reader #rick grimes/reader #alpha rick grimes #alpha!rick grimes x omega!reader #omega reader #rick grimes smut #rick grimes fanfic #twd smut #twd fanfic #female reader #rick grimes x you #rick grimes/you

323 notes · View notes

imfromthemiddlekingdom · 1 year

Text

Felony saying that everyone in the universe can access the force if they tried hard enough makes me want to deck him in his fugly face

He’s ruining all established canon in real time. Speed running the absolute destruction of continuity of the SW universe and people are still rooting for him and his blorbo self inserts like there’s no tomorrow. Literally the whole reason I no longer engage in Ashoka content is because he massacred my girl and made her so one dimensional that my Mary Sue self insert fanfics OCs I wrote when I was 14 looks well developed compared to the absolute bland “girlboss kick ass take names” personality Ashoka has right now.

There were so many opportunities for him to explore the absolute potential of angst and conflict within Ashoka in this new series, to give her character a believable story of grief loss and growth yet he threw it all away because he wanted his OC to be the specialist girl that ever lived. This series could’ve been used to explore Ashokas conflicting feelings regarding the Anakin that taught her and was a mentor to her whilst trying to connect it to the monster that killed her family and hunted her culture into almost extinction and tried to kill her, a person he confessed to love as a sister, on Malachor. It could’ve been a good send off to a great character, to have her face that the Skyguy she put on a pedestal in her mind was in actuality the worst sort of scum and have her try to come to terms that just because she can forgive him for being the genocidal maniac he was and still hold love in her heart for who he used to be and also understand why the Jedi, her family, wasn’t the reason for their own downfall.

But alas. We got another series of “the Jedi caused their own downfall!!! Anakin did nothing wrong ever and him killing all my family and everyone I’ve ever known is so not his fault!!! It’s definitely the fault of the unbending stuck in the past council!!!”. Instead of a series that could’ve made Ashoka’s “departure” (literally never going to happen with felony at the helm, he’s going to find a way to make her immortal and then show up 200 years in the future to be the protagonist of another light v dark fight since she’s his special SI) from the series tie in nicely thematically and canonically with every other Star Wars media we have, he decided that the best way to have this series go down is 1) everyone is force sensitive if they tried hard enough ig and 2) the Jedi were bad!!! Their protocols don’t work! They were mean to my little meow meow Anakin Skywalker the greatest Jedi of all times™️ therefore he got to kill them all!!!!

Got a bit off topic but I’m still so mad that he had this chance to make Ashoka truly experience growth like the first 5 seasons of TCW yet he decided maintaining the badass rebel without a cause aesthetics for her was more important then good story telling.

Honestly though, my main problem with this series is that he decided that apparently everyone in the universe can be force sensitive if they “just tried hard enough”. Like your Midichlorian Count no longer matters since even if you were Force-Null you can still be special!!!!

This takes away any and all urgency in the Jedi Fallen Order games. It makes Cals journey absolutely redundant. It throws away all the tragedy contained in having inquisitors being force sensitive kids kidnapped from their parents and tortured till they give into the dark side. If all beings are able to use the force in his universe then there are no consequences to the inquisitors not finding the Holocron that holds the names to all force sensitive children in the universe. There would be no need to them to chase Cal and the Mantis Crew throughout the universe to obtain what they have. They could’ve just went down to any random level in Coruscant and take homeless Force-Null kids and train them.

Even better! It makes the entirety of the KOTOR games redundant!!!! Oh and I guess the hidden path is also redundant since everyone can be force sensitive and no one truly needs more saving from the empire over others :/ totally not like these kids that were saved by the path would’ve been taken and tortured into inquisitors, definitely not since EVERYONE is force sensitive nowadays or is it just the ones Ashoka trains herself because she’s the “living embodiment of the daughter uwu she’s so special and unique look how well she can train a non force sensitive to be force sensitive!!!”

Everyone in the Star Wars universe has Midichlorian’s in their blood. That is a fact. It is also an established fact that the amount each person has is different and is not determined nor dependent on lineage. Force-Nulls typically range in the 1000-3000 count and you need 7000 to be force sensitive and higher to be accepted into the order. (The order isn’t the end all be all of force cultures, Rouge One shows that Jedha’s force culture isn’t restricted to only force sensitives as the Guardian’s were never specified to be only a religious order of force sensitives. And high canon doesn’t depict many other force cultures but we know that there are many force cultures in the universe that co-exist with the Jedi with which the Jedi weren’t in opposition towards; literally not even the witches of Dathomir were oppositions anywhere outside of the battle fields.) You don’t need to be force sensitive to be part of a force culture (Jedha literally has pilgrims who come far and wide to make a pilgrimage to the holy site and not all of them were force sensitive), Sabine could’ve very easily been taught the tenets of the Jedi without retconning her to be force sensitive or making everyone in the universe force sensitive.

No where in either the EU or High Canon did anyone ever say that you have to be force sensitive to be a badass or to make a difference. Hera did not hold the title of the best pilot in the universe just for some rat of a man to come and say that Anakin was the best because *muh force sensitivity!!!!* Some of the most heroic and most influential (good or bad) people in the franchise are Force-Null! And that’s great! It means that the force doesn’t make anyone better than anyone else! It’s a quirk of the universe! To retcon that everyone can and is force sensitive if they tried hard enough is literally cheapening everything the franchise stands for. Andor did not literally give us an entire story about how Force-Nulls in the Galaxy makes just as much of a difference as force sensitives for felony to come out and say that “you know what??? Midichlorian’s are a scam! You get a force sensitivity! You get a force sensitivity! Everyone gets a force sensitivity!!!!”

Sabine was great as she was in rebels, why cheapen it with “oh she’s actually force sensitive all this time!!!” When we could’ve stuck with badass Force-Null Mandalorian can kick your ass five ways to Sunday with her paint bombs and blasters you force wielding asshole!!! Like why even do that felony. Do you want people to hate her??? Nvm ofc you do, you need Ashoka to be the best in every way possible even if it means ruining every other beloved character in this franchise👍

#Star Wars salt #star wars #ashoka series #Ashoka Tano critical #anti anakin skywalker #anti Dave Filoni #fuck you felony I want to punch you in your rat face #Ashoka series critical #the Midichlorian count should mean something felony!!!!!#why are you making Ashoka a Mary sue😭 literally give her a personality that isn’t kickass take names please I beg #sw salt #I hate it here #jedi positive

143 notes · View notes

doodleferp · 9 days

Text

Cara and Miguel Starter Pack

So let me start from the beginning one last time. Once upon a time, Cara was yeeted into Earth-928 thanks to some fucky Lovecraftian nonsense from her fucky Lovecraftian dimension. After meeting Miguel, who was a baby Spider-Man back then, Cara was denied access back to her world thanks to some sibling disputes. She spun a little web of lies for Miguel’s then-fianceé Dana, and they took pity on her and decided to help her out. I’m pretty sure you know the rest. They moved her in with Dana, saved the city, humorously acclimated Cara to the city, buried Dana, got married to get Cara a green card, and ended up actually falling in love.

This works off of a timeline of events that I established myself and it's subject to change if more information from the films comes out. General consensus is that Miguel was born in 2070, so he was 29 when he got his powers IN 2099. But since he’s 35 in AtSV, that means about six years have passed since then.

Cara is five foot even. She’s a tiny little thing who has the love of a fucking giant. As the tall one, Miguel is often asked to help get things from places she can’t reach. But instead of grabbing the thing like a normal person, Miguel grabs Cara under her arms, lifts her up, and holds her up so she’s the perfect height to grab the thing herself. He does this everywhere. The apartment, the Spider Society, the grocery store, his office at Alchemax, etc.

Cara likes to wear a helmet instead of a mask because she’s being tossed around constantly and feels safer with that kind of head protection. Miguel, however, fucking hates the helmet and takes every opportunity to show Cara his Pepe Silvia board about why she should trade it out for the mask he made her. Cara will sit patiently through all of it, and then she’ll go “Would you like me to crack my head open?” And he shuts up for another week. (Oh, he also made her current suit all by himself.)

These two are like...so gossipy Mostly Miguel, but Cara indulges him a lot. Ofc they have those bedtime pillow talks where they're both reading or Miggy's on his laptop and they'll go on about something someone did that day. They'll be swinging through the city and talking shit about Internet drama or some dweeb from a restaurant. Miguel will hit her up on his lunch hour and give her all the Alchemax tea, complete with examining his nails like the mean popular girl from a Disney Channel Original Movie. If he thinks someone's eavesdropping, he'll start talking in really fast Spanish so they can't get what he's saying. Needless to say, Cara had to learn Spanish really fast just to keep up with him.

They both adore snuggling. Miguel is like Cara’s weighted blanket and she can’t sleep without him anymore because he just envelops her (Fig 1). He’ll spoon her, he’ll let her sleep on his chest and hold her there. He’ll do everything short of actually sleeping on top of her (Fig 2) and he does that at least once a month. However, he always wakes up at 4 AM to use the bathroom, and Cara always wakes up because she no longer has her big warm blanket man. Thankfully, she goes right back to sleep once he comes back to bed. It’s to the point where they have trouble sleeping without the other in the bed because Cara needs the weight on her and Miguel needs something to cuddle.

Since Cara and her sisters got some fucky eldritch nonsense going on with their blood, they…I guess a bit more compatible with other dimensions. They can’t travel between them at will, of course, but they don’t glitch because they got that interdimensional cosmic horror in em. When Miguel somehow starts monitoring the ItSV movie, he’s flabbergasted when he sees the other Spiders glitching and he goes to Cara like “these people are literally dying and it hasn’t been a week, how the shock did you survive SIX YEARS”.

Cara’s actually good at a lot of household chores, so she offers to help around the apartment when she isn’t working. And thanks to Spider nonsense, she can get really thorough with it. Miguel has come home multiple times to see her standing on the ceiling changing light bulbs or cleaning something on the ceiling. It saves him tons since he got to opt out of the building's cleaning service, but it still gives him a heart attack every now and then.

They have had long arguments about whether or not killing spiders counts as murder since they’re both half-spider. Cara scoops them up on a piece of paper and puts them out the window or something. Miguel just puts them out of their misery.

As I’m sure everyone reading this has deduced, these two are a very...hands-on couple. They have been banned from being in the Spider Society’s gym at the same time because of it. As in "when one of them goes in, the other is automatically locked out" kind of banned. Thank Peter B for that -- as in, genuinely thank him because he's saved a lot of minors from seeing a couple spider mutants getting freaky.

Not exactly shippy, but Miguel and Cara's sister Cadence do not get along. At all. They hate each other with a burning passion. Cadence is positive he's that archetypical dudebro who's going to drag Cara down, and Miguel is rightfully pissed that she's hostile to him for existing. Cara unfortunately has to get in the middle of them and keep things calm, and thankfully Miguel is willing to make an effort. Cadence is less than accommodating though, so the occasional cross-dimensional family visits are always interesting.

c. doodleferp, 2024. do not steal or repost.

16 notes · View notes

lindszeppelin · 10 months

Note

I almost feel bad for some of the Kaustin shippers. So many have done face reveals and/or use their real names/provide other identifying information about themselves.

Like, most are young and in Kaia’s peer group or younger. I was wise beyond my years when I was that age but boy did I get more polished with age. I’m beyond glad there is no internet footprints of most of my thoughts and opinions from that age! I’d say they should know better, but they don’t have the perspective to how much their thoughts on relationships will change as they experience more relationships and witness how other people’s relationships fall apart. It’s the curse of being young: you think you know more than you do. They don’t know that how you feel in your early twenties will not necessarily hold up the rest of your life. That said, I low key feel Mollie should know better. She’s in freakin’ law school and is essentially studying and analyzing consequences at the end of the day. Like…does she think law firms or clients can’t one day come across her blog, tweets, photos (whether they’re still live when she officially enters that profession or on something like screenshots or the way back machine that someone will track down her footprint…which will be fine bc she’s literally teaching her followers how to better stalk Austin via the way back machine 🙄🙄🙄🙄) will find her literal stalking and investing sooooo much time into a relationship between people she’ll never meet cute or professional or even remotely okay? Like how is she not scared that this could be a huge embarrassment and liability to be such a rabid fan who follows several people’s every move? It’s a terrible look professionally.

Like I said, I kinda feel bad bc you don’t know what you don’t know. But they also write fan fiction as they go based on tips of icebergs (largely out of context) and are thinking it’s cool to leave their identifiable information out there. I don’t think I would have done that even at 22 so I cannot wrap my head around it. Sorry- just wanted to vent about this.

Related: I hate it when they say we’re infantilizing Kaia or any young women when we point out age differences aren’t cool. No, we’re 🚨warning🚨 them based on what we’ve learned. Not every older dude is a predator- I don’t think Austin is “ preying” on Kaia. But you hit a few nails on the head some posts back talking about him being a bit lost when he met Kaia. He had just finished some intense projects and was still likely finding himself post his relationship with Vanessa. Yes, it had been 2ish years but a) it was a long ass relationship, b) he wasn’t even living in LA the entire time between relationships and didn’t go home/see his family and c) throw in a global pandemic in there so those 2 years were weird AF. I’m personally of the belief that if an older man is with a younger girl something is a bit off, even if it’s neutral (read: not a bad guy or a predator) but is in a weird place or hasn’t grown into their adult life yet and just has a bit more work to do. I personally think he should have stayed single a bit longer to grow into his adult self. I don’t judge him for going for a younger woman and I semi get it, as I also believe we mentally/emotionally revert back to the relative age we were when a relationship began (post break up). He was so young when he and V got together and was in a serious relationship in his twenties. Of course he’s going to relate to younger people for a hot moment (and that’s not taking away his intelligence or maturity in other ways…this can happen to the best of us). But yeah, he should stayed single and someone should teach Kaia that older men who wanna date young women probably aren’t the best idea for a spectrum of reasons. It’s not infantilizing- it’s a warning, it’s concern, and it’s about being literate about human psychology and behaviors regarding patterns and societal standards that we need to rethink.

Sorry this was longer than I intended. I guess I’ve been wanting to say all of this for some time so it was bottled up. Hope it didn’t come across as a hater- I don’t hate Austin (I’m side eyeing and running out of patience the longer this goes on bc I believe him to be smarter than this, but I still don’t think he’s a bad dude.) As I said, this happens to the best of us and it’s not an attack. Life is messy and dialogues about this stuff are important. And bc we’ve lived it, those young whipper snappers should respect their elders and not gaslight our lived experience/observations/lessons learned 😂

Hello anon! I just wanted to have some dinner and craft a response for you, because damn this was so well put together that it deserves a little more depth of analysis from me. So thank you for taking your time to write in your thoughts.

Off the top, I do agree that the younger generation is way too lax with how they throw around their identifying information out there on social media. A lot of them just aren't aware that whatever you post online leaves a footprint, and even if you try to delete it or conceal it, it will always be there. So even if they think they're being cocky by revealing their faces and leaving their names and where they live and such out there without a care, welp that is gonna come back around and haunt them later. Us millennials (i assume you're a fellow millennial, or Gen X at most lol) know the dangers of the internet as we grew up with the beginnings of social media. I would think twice if i were these kids uploading their faces and other shit to twitter/tumblr. Employers can find all of this even when the shippers don't think they can.

I think when we were these shippers ages we all said some pretty cringe shit online. Here's hope that as these kids grow up they realize the damage they can do by how their words and actions can affect others. And I will also just say here that just because someone goes to college for higher learning doesn't mean they are smarter than anyone else. Book smarts don't equal street smarts. and in this world I highly value being street smart and internet smart over book smart. And i think we all know that not every profession is well suited to everyone that signs up for that career field. Passing the bar is insanely difficult and even then, do you know how many half assed shitty lawyers there are out there roaming these streets? Crazy.

The stalking in this fandom is horrific, and if she really is dishing out details on how to stalk Austin's past social medias to obtain information, then they are certified crazy. It's giving straight jacket. It's giving delusional stalker. And to answer your question of how they can overlook what they say online...arrogance and ego, simply put. You think you're untouchable until one day you're not.

This point you bring up here about Austin and Kaia, dude, amazing. This needed to be said. You are so correct. Of course Austin is not a predator. Only fucking idiots would say that shit and compare him to Leo. This man clearly went through the ringer, and his choice in dating partner only reflects the mental state he was in (and might still be lingering in) at that time. He had a full fledged identity crisis meanwhile he flew to London straight after being released from the Hospital in Australia and filmed MOTA, then a few short months later he met Kaia under questionable circumstances. Plus the whirlwind of the award season and the hefty Elvis press tour is so much for a person to handle, especially when this was his first time doing both of those. No man or woman under normal circumstances would get mixed up with someone much younger than them (especially when the younger one hasn't even been a legal adult for that long). it's really a reflection of a switch not being turned on for the older person AND fucked up trauma somewhere in the young person. Trauma all around really.

At kaia's age, being with a man much older than her might have given the impression to others that she was so wise beyond her years, but she's a damn child. She shows her age all the time when she takes pictures with her young friends, go to these embarrassing parties that involve BDSM or sex or fanfiction readings in her "perverted bookclub". That is all stuff a 22 year old and younger would probably be found doing. That is not something a functioning adult who's doing okay would engage in. Plus, by her own admission she has been around men much older than he all her life thanks to Cindy pushing her to model since she was so young. So she is fucked up from that, and dating older men is what she is used to. She thinks it's normal. But in reality, it's not. And it's the fact that these shippers who are her age DON'T have a problem with it, but those of us who are close to Austin's age have a MASSIVE problem with it.

You're telling me that if theses shippers were to see a regular 32 year old man holding hands with a 22 year old out and about in the grocery store or whatever that they'd be cool with it? No, you side eye that shit. It is not normal or usual, it is odd. I as a near 30 year old woman would never in my life consider dating someone Kaia's age, are you for fucking real? In Hollywood this weirdo shit might be immorally normalized, but in regular society it is NOT OKAY. And I hope Austin get out of this funk he's been in for 2-3 years now. Continuing to be with her will only further damage himself in the long run, as you can clearly tell this man is not in love with her.

I think I hit on everything I wanted to comment on, but honestly I don't remember so im just gonna leave it here lol.

#lindsay's anon asks

11 notes · View notes

tsintotwo · 2 years

Text

[59 Hours, Part 5. (Part 4 here). Jake (Sweetbitter) x Reader. I am obliged to warn you: This is a. Long, b. bit of a rollercoaster ride, c. kinda wild, and d. HELLA smutty/NSFW. Like, I don’t wanna be too dramatic but, um, read at your own risk? Kinda? I guess? (Man, idk what y’all are gonna think.)]

Hour 32

Jake was the one to shower first. After taking yours and stepping out, you find him asleep on the bed. You can’t blame him- last night wasn’t your best sleep, but it sure was hell of a lot longer and better than what he had.

You stretch. In the last thirty hours or so you’ve sat around so much more than you normally would, and much of it in less-than-ideal positions. Your body feels stiff. You think for a second, then you get your headphones from your backpack. You hook them up with your phone's bluetooth, switch on an upbeat playlist from your music library, then walk around Jake’s apartment listening to it. This is common practice for you. You don’t ask for much in terms of entertainment- you don’t have the time or the money. Losing yourself in music is enough for you.

Usually you do this when you’re trying to clear your mind though- calming yourself down, getting through some worry, cataloguing to-do lists in your brain. But right now, you don’t feel like thinking about much- your mind feels airy in a way it hasn’t for a long while. You’re just focusing on the music, and oh, it’s fun- before long your steps are peppy, matching the beats. It’s not dancing, exactly, but it’s also not not dancing.

Then, of course, it turns out that Jake’s sleep was more of a power nap, and he has to see your ridiculous dance-walk, swaying your hip and flailing your arms with the drop of that trap beat as you strut. You don’t hear him because you’re wearing headphones, and you don’t see him until it’s too late and he’s right in front of you. It startles you, and you swear, clutching your chest before you take off the headphones.

He’s raising his eyebrows. ‘Wow,’, he drawls, ‘I didn’t realize I was this good.’

He’s referring to the sex, and you refuse to be embarrassed. ‘Why?’, you say, ‘Feedback hasn’t been nice so far?’

He chuckles, ‘Who needs feedback when you can literally see them do happy dances?’

You realize you’re probably blushing, but you hold your ground, and say, ‘Oh, I see how you’ve been deluding yourself. People just do their own thing, and you assume they must be doing it for you, huh?'

He stares, and suddenly you’re unsure if you’ve hit a nerve. You reach for your phone and switch off the music. ‘I’m joking, Jake. I do feel good.’, you say, ‘And don’t get too big of a head, but that- you- were pretty amazing.’

‘I don’t need your fucking feedback.’, he turns away, ‘What’s there to eat?’

The breath you exhale becomes a sigh, your heart slowly sinking like the airy flakes in it have turned into tiny, sharp pebbles. You should’ve known- some things are too good to last.

Hour 33

‘Dear Valued Customer…’, goes the email. It’s from the Airline, informing you that you have a few hours to transfer your unused ticket for free to a similar flight leaving within the next 48 hours. The two flights tonight aren't options, and only one you manage to find without ridiculous layovers flies out at 2 in the morning the day after tomorrow. You transfer your ticket to that one, the final click bringing a strange emptiness with it. For a while there, you almost forgot the world outside existed. In that world, you aren’t this woman- taking shots, doing sexy dances, wrapping yourself around a guy you’ve known for less than a day, sleeping in his bed. Feeling things- too fast, too much, too soon. You have responsibilities- a job, a family to take care of. What you don’t have is time or space for distractions. Don’t you worry, girl, a voice whispers in your head, you can go right back to your stupid life after this. No one would be bothering to go distract you anyway.

Trying to ignore the hollow feeling that’s creeping up from your stomach, through your chest and inside your throat, you swallow, looking around for Jake. But you can’t see him from here. He was pacing aimlessly around the apartment, he must have settled down at the table, or the old half-broken sofa near it.

Earlier, you two had Chinese food for dinner. There wasn’t much conversation. You both managed to skip lunch today, and while that actually means something for you, you could tell for Jake it’s just whatever. You’ve been noticing his eating pattern (there isn’t one), and when you told him that he should eat more often, he threw you a look. You shut up after that. Maybe he was right to be annoyed, who were you to show concern for him anyway?

He didn’t talk to you afterwards either. He tapped away at his phone, brows furrowed, mouth in a firm pout. Some of his irritation must have been from nicotine withdrawal- you think he finally emptied his cigarette pack this afternoon. What you don’t know is if the rest of it was because of you.

Now you find him on the sofa, drinking. This thing is so much worse than the other furniture in the apartment, and when you’d asked about it earlier, Jake informed you it came with the place, and he just never got around to throwing it away. It doesn’t look comfortable at all, and when you sit down beside him, you’re confirmed- it feels exactly like it looks. You can’t help thinking the only reason Jake would be sitting here is to avoid being near you.

You tell him about your flight. ‘Good.’, is his response. He doesn’t look at you.

You made one stupid joke, and you don’t see how it was worse than all your other stupid jokes. Is that all it takes for this to happen- for Jake to act like none of the connection- intimacy, whatever, something- you had exists anymore? Guilt is an old friend of yours. It comes quiet, whispers to you- you messed up, you ruined everything.

It would’ve worked a couple years ago, too. But you know guilt like the back of your hand, and you’ve been learning to peel off its mask and expose it as the liar that it is. Your dad leaving was not your fault, your remaining family’s dysfunction is not your fault (right?), your relationship burning up in a trash fire was definitely not your fault. And this isn’t either. It’s not you, it’s not the joke or anything else you did. Maybe it’s just Jake, and like you, when things start looking too good, feeling too real, he’s suspicious. Only he doesn’t hold his breath like you do, waiting for them to turn bad again. He charges ahead and tries to destroy them before they can destroy him.

And things would be so much simpler if you could let that be, wouldn’t they- leave Jake alone, wrapped in his chosen darkness, and withdraw into yourself for the night, then leave quietly tomorrow. But for the life of you, you can’t, you can’t not care, you can’t not want more, more of him, more of you with him, more of the unnamed thing between you that feels so disproportionally monumental. So you have to try pulling him back from this shadow.

You start with simple conversation, ‘What would you be doing now if it was a regular day?’, you ask.

‘Be at work.’, his answer is short.

‘I tried to be a bartender once.’, you say. This captures his interest.

‘I bet that went well.’, he’s looking at you now.

‘Yeah.’, you laugh. ‘I was fresh out of school and looking for a job. Options were thin in my town. There was this new pub in the next town. They were looking for a bartender, and I thought, why not shoot my shot? I didn’t think they’d actually take me, since my knowledge of alcohol is… lacking. Also, I was faking my age.’

Jake’s mouth twitches, ‘Didn’t think you had it in you.’

‘Oh, you don’t know the stuff I have in me.’

‘Oh, yeah?’, the twitch becomes a half-smile, ‘Why don’t you show me?’

‘I might.’ You’re completely winging this- you’ve pretty much been a straight arrow most of your life, the fake ID thing was a one-off- and only because you were desperate for a job. In here though, with Jake, a wild version of you doesn’t seem so impossible. ‘But yeah,', you continue, 'I think they just chose the young pretty thing and hoped for the best. I tried it for a month. Then I quit.’

‘Did you.’, Jake pours more drink, turning away. You think he’s losing interest. Actually, no- it might just be the opposite. He was starting to enjoy the conversation, and as soon as he’s realized it it's like he doesn't want to allow himself that anymore.

‘Yeah’, you still keep it up, ‘Too many creeps hitting on me that I didn’t know how to handle then. And I was terrible at it anyway. Do you like doing it?’

‘Whatever.’, he’s disengaging, ‘It’s a job.’ It’s not an answer at all.

‘You like photography.’, you point out. ‘Have you tried doing it professionally? I think you’re good.’

‘Yeah, no.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know. You ask too many questions.’, you’re losing him.

‘Yeah, hashtag Straight-A Student Struggles. Former student, that is.’- this is the only thing you can think of saying.

He didn’t expect this answer maybe, and chokes on his drink a little. ‘Did you really just say ‘hashtag’ out loud?’

‘Told you I had stuff in me that you can’t even imagine.’, you shrug. ‘Where are my points for showing you?’

He’s shaking his head. But his mouth twitches again. 'Humblebraggers,' he says, pouring a large drink, 'get no points. And', he offers the drink to you, ‘it’s never too late to make up for lack of knowledge.’

‘Yeah, I'm not so hopeless that I don’t know this.’, you take a sip of the drink and give it back to him, ‘But I’m not drinking this much bourbon now.’

His face shifts towards distaste in a second. ‘No,’, he mutters, turning away, ‘You wouldn’t.’

‘I wouldn’t, because I know I can’t handle it.’, you tell the truth.

‘You gotta handle it, huh?’, he sneers, ‘Not be messed, not throw up, not have a hangover, just perfectly sober, handling things, problems, like me last night-‘

‘Jake!’, you have to stop this spiral right now, and the only way to do this is more truth, ‘No, I want to remember.’

‘What?’, he stumbles on his train of thought, confused.

‘I-‘, you take a deep breath, ‘I would be worried about all that normally, yeah, being sick and hungover and all that shit. But here, with you- you make me-‘ , oh, God. The bottomless blue of his eyes is sharp and focused despite the drinks, and it’s hard to go on as he looks at you, because what if he laughs in your face? But you do anyway, ‘You make me feel different, like I can be different… carefree. More. And I would get drunk with you, and do things with you I wouldn’t with anyone else. But,’, oh, how is this getting even harder? ‘I’m leaving tomorrow, and this has been, you have been-‘, What, exactly? You don’t know how to put any of these into words, so you just say, ‘I want to remember this. I don’t have much more time left here, and I want to remember this, and you. When I look back, I don’t want half of it gone in an alcohol muddle, blurry and blotted out. I want to remember it all.’

You take another long breath, and he's not saying anything, and oh God, why did you think it was a good idea to say all this? You feel exhausted suddenly. What are you doing here? ‘I-‘, you swallow before saying, ‘Sorry, I get if that was weird for you. You’re just sitting here trying to enjoy your drinks, and I’m-‘, you stand up. ‘I’ll go, sorry.’ You turn away.

But then there’s a pull, and you look down over your shoulder to see that he’s reached up and grabbed your hand, stopping you.

‘You-‘, he lets go of your hand, looks down, eyes closed for half a second, exhaling. Then he looks up again, and says, ‘You wanna see some pictures I took? I have a Flickr account.’

He’s trying to be casual, but you think he looks… vulnerable- a kind of helpless hope shining through the resistance. It makes you feel too many things, but the smile making its way across your face shines the brightest.

‘Yeah.’, you say, ‘Love to. I'd much rather remember those than your toilet bowl.’

Hour 35

Shut away from the world with Jake, time feels liquid. When you notice, you’re shocked to realize that you two have been looking at photos Jake took for over 2 hours- there aren’t that many on his online account. But he explains them a bit, then makes a slanted comment, you quip back with something else, and he tries to turn it back around, and so it goes. It’s so easy between you two when he lets it be easy.

There are a couple pictures of Simone in here. You realize the picture on the wall is her too, but in that she’s face down on the beach… honestly, kind of like a mermaid, you think. But here you can actually see her- blond, willowy, and exuding a natural confidence that comes through even in still images, she’s gorgeous. You say as much to Jake, and he makes a non-committal sound in his throat that could mean anything.

Not that you’re some photography aficionado, but you can tell Jake takes good pictures. So you ask again, ‘Honestly, you never even freelanced? You’re really good.’

Jake shakes his head, clicking away from his account window that he’d pulled up on an ipad- he took it out from the drawer of his side table beside the bed.

‘Why, though?’

‘I have a job.’

‘In service. Perfect for you, seeing how you’re a real people-person.’

‘I like people’, reaching up from his position on the floor, he reopens the drawer and puts the ipad away, ‘when they tip me.’ He grins, ‘Which they do, a lot.’

With that face of his, you don’t wonder. ‘Oh, no. No hope for the rest of us poor people.’

He smirks, ‘Why, desperate to have me like you?’

He’s sitting with his side slightly leaned against the bed, legs stretched out on the floor, graceful even in this simplicity. And even though you were being sarcastic with your comment, now you suddenly can’t find words- inside your chest there’s a stupid twinge of inexplicable pain. After a pause that’s a second too long, you look away, and say, ‘Don’t worry. I know what I can’t afford.’

It's an awkward answer, and you’re waiting for him to make fun of it, but he doesn’t. When you look back at him, he’s watching you in that intense way he has of doing it sometimes, and that makes it even harder to remember rhyme or reason. You have to change the subject, so you grab onto the first thing that occurs to you. It must have been working itself out at the back of your mind.

‘Simone started working at the restaurant before you, didn’t she?’, you ask.

Jake frowns, ‘Not by much. Why?’

‘Just- is that why you started working there?’

‘I- I guess. But I’ve been bartending for years now-‘

‘And was Simone always a waitress or a server in those places?’

Jake’s jaw clenches for a moment before he replies, ‘So what? She looks out for me, I look out for her. That’s us.’

That’s us. The us of Jake and Simone that he keeps falling back on.

‘It’s great.’, you say, ‘I was just wondering- if one of you doesn’t want to stay anymore, what does the other one do? Like, if you wanted to quit tomorrow-‘

‘I don’t want to quit.’, You can almost see Jake reeling away from you, but you can’t stop.

‘If you did.’, you say, ‘If you said you wanted to, like, be a photographer now, or travel, what would she do?’

‘She’d be fine. I-‘, he stops.

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Tell me!’

‘I was going to open a place with one of our chefs who wanted to quit. We’d both quit and open our own place.’

‘And?’

‘Simone was very supportive. The house at Cape Cod is both in our names, and she was willing to let me sell it.’

‘So why didn’t you?’

‘It was a stupid idea.’

‘How did you arrive at that conclusion?’

‘I just did.’

‘How?’

‘Simone-‘, he stops, trying to find words, ‘She agreed to sell the house, and told me she’d do anything for me. She’s always worried about me, she still does. I can’t- I can’t abandon her.’

‘How is you owning your own business abandoning her?’

‘You won’t get it.’, Jake shakes his head. ‘Other people never do.’ He looks at you, and you feel the change, the ease between you- strong, but so fragile in its existence- evaporating. You’re other people now, on the other side of Simone and him. Knowingly or unknowingly, you were expecting it as soon as you started talking about this. But you didn’t expect what you feel now- defiant.

‘Okay.’, you say, ‘Just, to me, it feels like-‘

‘Oh, for fucks’ sake! It feels like- who cares?' He scoffs, 'This is all you want in the end, don’t you- to fucking sit here braiding one another's hair, talking about feelings.’, he stands up. He left the bourbon behind when you came here to look at the pictures, you’re certain he’s going back to it now. It should upset you maybe, this whole thing, and it does in a way, but really all you feel is dangerously reckless.

You’ve been dancing this dance with Jake since yesterday and the pattern already feels familiar like the back of your hand- he takes you where he wants to, and you follow. But everything is liquid here, remember? Everything can slip and slide, so why not this? Why not you- the essence of you? Maybe you’ll drop some tinder in this pattern, throw a match, watch the fireworks light up the sky or the wildfire as everything burns down.

‘Your hair is too short, but I would put makeup on you.’, you say, stopping him in his tracks, ‘And acting like you’re da shit because you love avoiding talking about feelings? You’re a walking cliché, Jake. What a fucking shame.’

He turns back at you, incredulous, ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’

‘You know exactly what I’m talking about.’, you stand up, swinging right into his personal space, ‘You don’t have to talk to me. But you know what I think? I think maybe you couldn’t if you wanted to, because you don’t know how, and you’re too fucking stubborn to let anyone take the time and help.’

‘What do you mean, help? I don’t need help-‘

‘Nooo, you never do, do you?’ He’s breathing hard, and so are you. His blue eyes blaze, but you don’t take yours off them. ‘Whatever. You’ll ‘deal’,', you make the air quotes, ‘Drink your drinks and do your wild parties with folks at work and Home Bar or whatever- worst name for a bar ever by the way- but guess what? I’ll still be too wild for you- with my makeup and talking about feelings.’

You think you’ve made Jake genuinely speechless, and it sends tiny sparks of thrill through your whole body. You feel a bit insane- this is so not you. But maybe this was always you, and how’d you ever know without a guy like Jake?

‘You think you’re too wild for me.’, Jake has found his voice. He enunciates every single word, low and silky- something between a growl and a purr that makes your throat go dry. He looks like he’s seeing you for the first time.

‘You’ll let me put makeup on you, then?’, you challenge, and when he doesn’t say anything, you lean in even more, your breasts touching his chest, and whisper, ‘Pussy.’ You never did put your bra back on, and both your cardigan and your top are thin- you know he can feel your nipples through them, erect and hard, and you don’t even know if that happened because of the cold or something else entirely.

His eyes flash, and his tongue flicks out to slowly touch his bottom lip. Then he reaches out and winds his fingers through the hair on the back of your head, clenching a fistful, tipping your head up. Lowering his mouth to your ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine, he says, ‘Do your fucking worst. And then we’ll see.’

Hour 36

Your Junior/Senior year at high school was the time around which makeup channels on Youtube were getting really big. You weren’t that much into it but other girls at school were. You saw a chance to make a little money. By the time you graduated, you’d gathered a decent stash of items, had reasonably good skills, and had done more than 50 makeup jobs for girls in your town for fees. It wasn’t much money- $10 here, $20 there- but everything counted in your household. You haven’t done any of it since high school, and you’ve never regretted that more, because if you did, you’d have your stash with you right now. As it is, all you have is a pencil liner, a mascara, and a lip tint.

This will have to do. Jake is still seething, but underneath that, you think he’s a bit nervous about the prospect of wearing makeup for what you assume is the first time. And even though you shouldn’t, you’re really, really enjoying making him nervous. You take your time, sitting him down on the side of the bed and standing a foot away, looking at him cocking your head, going, ‘Hmm, I would definitely do a smokey eye on you. Grays, silver metallics. Not matte. Maybe even all shimmer, if I was feeling inspired…’

You know he’s got no idea what you’re talking about, and he doesn’t know you can’t do any of that, so he sits there and tries to burn you with his glare, his mouth pinched in that pout that you now think is sexy. You step closer, gently lifting his face up with fingers of your both hands. That death glare is locked with your eyes now, and you have a moment of doubt suddenly- what are you doing?- but then you’re distracted by the whole view- cream-smooth skin, midnight hair, dark furrowed brows, fiery blue eyes, angry swollen lips, a raw and wild energy coming off him. Your breathing becomes shallow. Shit, this is getting out of hand already.

You get your cleansing tissues and wipe his face first. You didn’t need to do that, his face was clean. You just wanted to touch and trace his features again. You run your fingers through his hair, shoving the fringes away from his forehead. You put some moisturizer on him. You’re standing between his knees now, and as you’re doing it, you feel his hands on your body. He touches your waist, slowly runs them on your back, touches your thighs, your ass over your PJ shorts. It almost seems unintentional, involuntary, but you know it’s not.

You step away to get the other items, and then your fingers touch something else in that pocket of your backpack- oh, oh yes! It’s highlighter- the makeup kind- you picked it up for a colleague’s birthday that’s coming up and forgot to take it out of the pack. Oh, this is perfect!

You put the liner on his eyes, subtle on the top, darker and smudged on the waterline, but still not much- just to have that blue pop. He’s still touching you wherever he can reach, and you catch your breath as he plays with the edge of your top, tracing his thumb on your stomach. He squirms when you apply mascara on his lashes, blinking too much, uttering several ‘fucks’, but when you finally do manage to put it on and look at him, your heart stops for a moment. Oh, God. He looks fucking gorgeous.

You touch his lips, slowly running your thumb over them. They’re perfect, you’ll leave them as they are. His breath is warm, and just a tiny bit shaky, and so close, you can feel it on the exposed skin of your chest. Ignoring the distracting tingle between your thighs, you pick up the highlighter. You wish its was of a silvery shade, but it’s more gold. Okay, well. With your fingers, you put a little of the shimmery powder on him, keeping it subtle, but also making sure it shows and does its job- highlighting his sharp cheekbones with a trace of golden glimmer. You run your hand through his hair again, going for a windswept look. And then you’re done.

This whole thing started as a joke- or a fight, really- but as you look at Jake right now, you don’t regret a single thing about it, because he’s breathtaking, and this couldn’t have happened any other way.

You pull him by the hand, ‘Mirror. Come on.’

The one body-length mirror in his apartment is stuck on the far left wall, and it is narrow, so when you stand him in front of it, you can barely see yourself though you’re still beside him. But then he pulls you in front of him, right arm circling your stomach. Now you can see yourselves both.

‘You look stunning, just in case it’s not clear to you.’, you tell his reflection. You can’t not tell him this.

He assesses your handiwork for a few more seconds and there’s really nothing in his expression that’s different now from before- this was a thing to get through, and he did. He’s not even looking at himself anymore, he’s looking at you in the mirror. ‘Well,’, you start trying to move away, ‘as no appreciation for my hard work is forthco- aaahhhgh...‘ Your sentence trails away in a choking moan as something like a thousand-volt electric shock runs through your body, making you shudder- holding you against himself, right arm tight around you, Jake has put his left hand between your legs, grabbing you there over your shorts.

You squirm, but he doesn’t let go, and the friction this causes makes you more and more breathless. You can see yourselves in the mirror- your mouth open, eyes helpless, and Jake’s head bent low over your shoulder. He murmurs against your ear, sounding husky and dangerous, ‘A bit of ink and glitter. This was your worst? I’m so disappointed.’ His fingers rub between your thighs, and you have to swallow another moan.

‘Of course that’s- not my worst’, you say, panting, ‘Haven’t even- started on the- talking about feelings part yet- aaaaahh!’

He’s pushed a finger in, as far as it would go over your shorts and panties, and you can tell you’re wet, you’re so wet. Your whole body jerks with his touches, but his grip around you is like an iron vise, not letting you move.

‘You can do much better things’, he traces his lips on your neck and shoulder, his breath raising goosebumps on your skin, ‘with that pretty little mouth.’ Then he turns you around and kisses you, crushing your lips with his.

You don’t even remember how you end up where you do- in your underclothes and sitting between his legs, leaning back on him while he sits on the floor leaning against that couch, holding you from behind. One of his hands is running over your body- taking off your bra, he grabs your tits, circles and presses your nipples with his fingers, slides the hand over your stomach and thighs- while the other one still teases between your legs- and it is teasing. He slowly rubs you over your soaked panties, and you feel his stubble, rough and delicious against your shoulder and neck as he whispers, ‘So wet. Who’s it for?’

You don’t say anything, trying to control yourself, to not move your hips and rub yourself harder against his hand.

‘Who is it for?’, Jake’s lips are against your ear, tongue touching as he talks. He pushes his finger deeper- in and out in a quick stroke, and you gasp, ‘F-for you, Jake.’

‘Mmm.’, he’s almost purring, but it’s deep, and hoarse, and you can’t breathe. He slowly kisses your back, shoulder, the side of your face, and he hasn’t taken off any of his clothes, but you can feel his erection through his pants against the small of your back. You arch back your neck, lips parted, and he kisses those, bringing a hand on the nape of your neck. His mouth, his tongue, his kiss- so hot it seems to burn, to set you on fire, and then you jolt violently and he laughs right into the kiss- he’s hooked his thumb through the waistline of your panties and given it a sudden, strong pull up- the thin material of it is cutting on you at the soft and swollen-open place. You desperately gasp for breath, and he stops kissing you, slowly releasing your panties, then bending forward to pull them down to your knees. He leans back again. Then he does nothing.

You’re dripping wet, your thighs are spread open, and you’re ready, you’re so ready for release, but Jake’s hand isn’t there anymore. Both his arms are circling you tightly, keeping yours pinned. You try to squirm, but his legs are tangled with yours, and he uses them to keep you in place. You’re a prisoner.

A prisoner who wants to be there.

‘Ask for it.’, Jake says, breathing and nuzzling against your neck, almost sweet, ‘What do you want,-?’, he calls you by your name.

You don’t know what to say, you can’t even think anymore. Jake reaches out and touches you there again lightly. Then he takes his hand away, and you whimper. This is torture. This is exquisite, glorious torture.

‘What. Do. You. Want?’, Jake asks again against your ear.

‘I-‘, you gulp in air, ‘I want you- you to-‘

‘Me to-?’

‘Put your f-fingers in there.’, you pant, feeling the sweat spring on your chest and neck.

‘In where?’, Jake’s hand is on your inner thigh, fingertips tracing on there.

Oh, oh, so close-

‘In my pussy. Now. Please.’

And he does. In one swift motion, he’s almost knuckles deep inside you, and you clamp down your jaw trying to push back the scream. You’re breathless in anticipation for his fingers to start moving, but they don’t. Instead, Jake says, ‘What did you do that for?’

You have no idea what he means, and you don’t care. You sway your hips, trying to feel him deeper inside you. Another groan wants to escape, and you swallow again.

‘Don’t do that.’, Jake’s voice is hoarse, but this is different, because this is not a game, or a command, ‘You don’t have to be quiet. Let it out. Let me hear you.’

You’ve never thought about this before, but all the times you had sex in the past, you’ve never felt comfortable being loud, making the sounds that formed in your throat. So many times it was a shitty place you were doing it in, privacy fragile, and other times you knew the partner (aka your ex) wouldn’t like it. But right now- right now it’s Jake and this empty apartment, and he’s asking you, and maybe there are neighbors, but so what?

You ease into it as Jake’s fingers start to move inside you- audible gasps and tiny moans, but they get longer, and louder, and now you couldn’t stop if you wanted to. He’s making rhythmic strokes while using his thumb to rub on just the perfect spot, and every single one of your nerve endings feel like they’re fused with live wires. You have slid forward to open yourself up more, thighs angled up, and as you let your head fall back against Jake’s chest, he watches you, arm around your back. He doesn’t take his eyes off your face as you let out helpless moans, mouth open, lips quivering, eyes hazy with desire, and you can’t stop looking at his face either- it’s like looking at a mirror. He’s pleasuring you but just by seeing you get there, listening to you moan and scream for him, he’s almost getting there with you. His breathing is ragged, and as you near climax, they become shuddering gasps, matching the rhythm of your repeating moaning. When you’re on the edge, he pulls up your head towards his and kisses you, hungry and scorching, and your final scream sinks into the kiss as you come violently against his hand, back arching, thighs shaking uncontrollably.

He doesn’t give you time to settle- in moments his clothes are off and he’s turned you around, pulling you to his lap, your thighs straddling his. You’ve never done it in this position before but you don’t even have to think as you slowly slide him inside you, big and thick and stiff, and start to move. Every one of your senses feel like they’re overloaded, but you can’t stop wanting more. He has one of his elbows up on the couch, supporting himself, the other arm around your waist. Both your hands are on his shoulders, then you reach out with one of them and sink it in his hair. You kiss him as you move, and with the blue in his dark-rimmed, thick-lashed eyes liquid, hair messed, blood rushing into his cheeks under the shimmer, mouth wet and letting out hot gasps, you’ve never seen anything so arousing in your goddamned fucking life. Neither of you last very long, and as you climax together, your eyes are locked for a moment, and you don’t see punishment, or powerplay, or dominance, all you see is trust. It was what it was but now he’s giving himself to you, totally, and you give yourself to him, falling onto him and holding him tightly as the orgasms wrack through you both. You don’t know when you started it, but you’re sighing his name over and over, and then you hear him do the same- he says your name, groans it out, again and again, and yes, yes, let me hear you, Jake. Let me hear you.

[Update: Part 6 (last part)]

#sweetbitter #jake #jake x reader #jake x you #jake x oc #fanfic #sweetbitter fanfiction #fic #tom sturridge #how did i have one single idea about one single scene #and now it's a fucking novel #WHAT

70 notes · View notes

starlitangels · 2 years

Text

Someone Like Me

So... this was originally part of a long-form, multi-chapter fic I may never post but with some careful editing and a beta read by the illustrious @zozo-01, it makes for a pretty good one-shot. Enjoy! 1.5k words

—

Three days after the Inversion, I yanked open the door to the Department office. A little bell went off close to the reception desk. The girl sitting behind it—who couldn’t have been much more than eighteen and wearing a lanyard for the local magic academy—glanced up from her computer. I recognized the aura of a Warder. “Hi. How can I help you?” she asked with a customer service smile. Her future spilled out before my eyes. I blinked away the images.

“Who do I have to talk to in order to consult with a Seer?”

Her eyes widened just a fraction. “Here? Well… I guess that’d be Brayden Stillwater. This area doesn’t have any Seers, so our Seer Security Office consists of one person,” she said. “I guess you’d want to talk to him.”

“When’s he available?”

The receptionist clicked around on her computer for a moment. “He has an open appointment slot in fifteen minutes,” she remarked.

“May I?” I asked.

She nodded. “I’m just going to need your name, magical race, and reason for consult.”

I gave her my name and continued, “And, uh… I’m an Illusory. And I need… answers. Advice only a Seer can give me.”

She looked like she was about to ask for more information, but seemed to decide against it and typed for a moment. Then she smiled at me. “Okay! He should be ready for you in about fifteen minutes. If you’d like, I can take you to the waiting area just outside his office.”

“Sure.”

She got up from her desk and beckoned me to follow her with a wave. I trotted after her. She was taller than me by a few inches and her longer stride was a bit difficult to keep up with. But I was used to that, so I kept up fairly easily. She led me through the ground floor of the Department building to a small office with a few chairs right outside. I sat in one of them at her gesture. “I’ll send him a message—let him know you’re out here waiting for him,” the receptionist said.

“Thank you,” I said.

She smiled at me—another customer service smile—and retreated back the way we’d come. I crossed my ankles and swung my legs back and forth. The seat was just tall enough that I really couldn’t touch the ground easily. I slipped my phone out of my pocket and waited.

About fifteen minutes passed when the door to the office opened and two gentlemen emerged. “—continue this another time,” one was saying. “It was good to see you, Richard.”

“You too, Brayden. Thanks for taking the time to meet with me.”

“Of course. That’s what I’m here for.”

They bid their goodbyes and Richard wandered off. Brayden looked down at me. “You must be my new appointment,” he said. I nodded. “Come on inside.” I followed him into his office. “Have a seat.” I sat in one of the more cushioned seats across the desk from him. He sat in his desk chair. “So, Madi told me you wanted to consult with a Seer,” he remarked. His Freelancer aura wasn’t strong. I imagined he was pretty average.

I nodded. “Yes. I—”

“It’s going to take a while. We don’t get Seers out here much and ones that choose to live their lives in the open are rare to begin with,” he said. “Madi said you wanted answers. Advice only a Seer could give.”

“Yes. And I’m aware that Seers don’t end up out in these suburbs often. But I’m willing to travel wherever I need to.”

“The waitlist to meet with a Seer is months out,” he said.

I took a deep breath, maintaining a tenuous hold on my patience. “I understand that. I just need to meet with one as soon as I can,” I said. “Literally any one of them.”

“Forgive me, but I will need to put together a briefing for whomever is able to take your appointment. What answers can only a Seer give you?”

I clenched my jaw and looked away from him for a moment, running a hand over the top of my head. “I…” Here it goes. No turning back now, I thought. “I am a Seer.” I dropped the twist in my magic that let me present my aura as that of an Illusory. Brayden’s eyes widened at the shift in magic. “A Seer Obscura, to be specific. And apparently one who doesn’t know well enough how my own powers work. I need one of them to help me.”

Brayden Stillwater stared at me for a second. “O-oh,” he said. “Oh God. Okay. My job just got a bit more complicated but—but that’s fine! Really. I can handle it. Okay. I will put together a little briefing and get it sent to the main Dahlia office. They have a bigger Seer Security office. They can get you set up on a Seer’s schedule and keep me posted, and I will keep you updated. And…” He started typing frantically at his keyboard. “You said you're Obscura, too, right?”

I nodded.

He swore under his breath, sounding impressed. “The chances of that…” he whispered as he kept typing. Muttering my name under his breath as he went, “Okay… Seer Obscura… registered with the Department as an Illusory… seeking counsel with a fellow Seer… any Seer with an available appointment ASAP… regarding… powers.” He huffed a sigh. “That sound about right?”

I nodded again. “Yeah.”

“Quick question: were you latent?”

I shook my head. “No. I’m not a latent.”

He typed again. “Great. I will get the paperwork submitted into the main Dahlia office and let you know when your appointment will be.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stillwater.”

We both stood. I shook his hand and twisted my magic. My aura went back to its Illusory presentation.

“Before I go—I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone outside the Seer Security Office about me. I’ve lived my life as an Illusory to the rest of the world and… I'm not ready to change that, just yet.”

He nodded fervently. “Of course not. Your safety is my top priority.”

“Thank you.”

With that, I excused myself from his office, waved to the receptionist, and went back on my way.

—

Morgan looked down at his phone as it rang. SSO said the caller ID.

“Morgan Kyne,” he greeted professionally.

“Hey, Morgan. It’s Uriel Hurst.”

“Hello, Mr. Hurst. It’s been a while since we spoke.”

“Indeed. So, listen, we’ve had a Seer come forward. They’re in the suburbs outside Dahlia. They were registered under Department records as an Illusory. And… according to the SSO rep out there… they’re Obscura, too.”

The muscles in Morgan’s hand went slack. His phone fell out of it and landed with a loud thunk on his desk. “Oh, my God,” he breathed. He reached and grabbed his phone, bringing it back up to his ear. “You’re serious?”

“Mmhmm. Mr. Stillwater in the suburb office was very clear in his statement that they went out of their way to say they were Obscura. Which is why I’m calling you. Out of all the members of the Sodality, we here at the Seer Security Office thought it would be best for you to be the one to meet with them.”

“Another Seer Obscura… that’s supposedly impossible. In one lifetime?” He shook his head in disbelief. Then swallowed. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll meet with them. I know I’m kinda booked up for a bit with some other Department and Sodality obligations but… I really do want to meet with them. Um…” He brought his phone away from his ear, put it on speaker, and pulled up his work calendar, scrolling through blocks and blocks of color-coordinated appointments. “Dammit. I’m not free until July.”

“They’ve been made aware that it may take some time.”

“Six months seems extreme for a fellow Seer just coming forward with their powers.”

“I’m aware. But they’re at the top of your list for if any of your appointments happen to cancel.”

“They never do, Uriel. Time with the Sodality is… so in-demand.”

“Things happen. We’ll see.”

“Hmm,” Morgan hummed. “Thanks for letting me know. I’m gonna add them to my calendar. Wanna send me their information?”

“Yeah. Already on it.”

“You’re the best.”

“See you soon, Morgan.”

“See you soon, Uriel.” He hung up and set his phone screen-down on the desk. His eyes unfocused, staring blankly at the wall just beyond his computer monitor. “Another Seer Obscura…” he whispered. “The odds of that…” He brushed a hand into his hair, pushing his bangs off his forehead. “Someone…” He blinked, but his eyes didn’t refocus. “Someone else like me…” The barest traces of a smile started to form on his face. A hopeful smile. Someone out there who might be able to understand what it was like to experience magic the way he did. There was one other person in the world who shared his experiences.

Excitement ignited in his blood, warming his limbs.

There’s someone like me!

—

Tag list: @ryn-halo26

#Redacted ASMR #fic #Redacted Morgan #Redacted Seer Obscura #Morgan Kyne #Morgan #Redacted Audio #Starlit Fic

31 notes · View notes

rei-ismyname · 3 months

Text

Heir of Apocalypse #2 better be playing fair with my heart.

I have thoughts about Heir of Apocalypse #2. They're full of spoilers so here's a cut.

All media is in conversation with what's come before to some degree, and X-Men comics made just after the premature and rushed ending of the boldest and most cohesive period ever - the Krakoan Age - even more so. Even if it's not textual or intentional that relationship is there.

One of Krakoa's great challenges was finding ways to work with the central conceit - full resurrection of mutants - to create stories that had stakes. When nobody can die it can be easy to deflate tension. For the most part they succeeded admirably, but I can't help but wonder how From The Ashes will handle death in a world where we pretend it's permanent.

I'm not going to completely recap, notes in dot points are easier to digest.

- The action picks up smoothly where it left off. Everyone is introduced and Genocide, a character I don't know very well, has invited himself and is destroying a town. Everyone has agreed to put the tournament on hold to rescue civilians.

- Even Armageddon Girl, who does not give a fuck about humans. In fact she is a mass murderer at this point. Good for her, it just seems a little out of character. Genocide's 'toxins' are harming the Earth, sure whatever.

- Speaking of characterisation, what is up with Exodus? If he's returning to his pre-krakoa 'nonsensical crusader' characterisation then what's the point? A lot of excellent work was done to make him a fully rounded and sympathetic person, a hero even. He was dismissive of humans but you could see his position. He would not kill Monet needlessly and he wouldn't be so blase about it. Also, he's been on the Quiet Council with Emma Frost for at least 3 years in-universe, though it's implied to be longer. They were a voting bloc post-Inferno and he respects her. They've worked out how to communicate with each other and they fought skyscraper sized Monsters together on Judgement Day.

So WTF would he say 'the harlot is right' referring to her? He knows her name. If I was being generous I'd say it's in response to her calling him a fanatic, but it doesn't read that way. Immortal X-Men established that as almost a fond nickname ('my little fanatic') so I am very sceptical of this misogynistic term seemingly out of nowhere. If I'm not being generous at all I'd guess that Steve Foxe is going off a 'judgy fundamentalist' template and doesn't have a good handle on Exodus' voice. One moment he's aloof and above it all, the next he's accidentally killing another mutant (literally against his faith) and shrugging it off. It's stripping away what makes him interesting, his pathos. Moving on from Krakoa is one thing, but moving a breakout character backwards feels like erasing it. I'll come back to this.

- Sinister's voice feels right. He's very obviously depowering AG and Exodus, though I am suspicious that Exodus would even let him get close. Sinister was kill on sight for Exodus and Rasputin IV the last time we saw. Literally nobody should trust him even a little bit right now. Why did Apocalypse even invite him?

- Apocalypse, buddy. So we're acknowledging that he lives on Arakko but regressing him to his 90s characterisation? In his After The Fall one shot and X-Men Red he completed his character arc and concluded that survival of the fittest was not enough. Surviving means nothing without thriving, he said. I'd like that followed up on, but I fear he's torturing people needlessly and then Arakko will go away. I'm reserving judgement for now but this should be written by Al Ewing.

- I'm getting the impression that the conversation with Krakoa is one sided. It feels like it's almost making fun of it? Where is Bei The Blood Moon? She's married to Doug and he's here in this ridiculous tournament. Armageddon Girl is basically a supervillain, 'poor Lin Li' feels odd. These people all have established relationships that grew over the last 5 years. The 'hero clique' sticking together feels determined to ignore that, especially when they're acting like they don't know these people.

- 3 deaths.

0 notes

deadrayg2mf · 2 years

Text

Prey (Coveted Prey #1) by L.V. Lane

This review is going to start out with a confession... I am not an omegaverse girlie... I know that seems like something I would just have to be to also be in this line of business, and I do enjoy several stories that are extremely omegaverse adjacent, but straight up omegaverse like the above is not my cup of tea. I try to be fair in my reviewing, so I have not allowed the 269 pages of in-your-face omegaverse content from this book skew me too much... it’s just so much omegaverse ㅠㅠ (note, I should not have brushed off the usage of omega in the book description like I did and also should have just paid more attention to the description it is a very clearly labelled omegaverse story) (another note I must make after finishing this review... This book had like one sort of werewolf in it so... honestly, not really monster fucker worthy but I’ll do the review anyways)

Carrying on, this is quite a potentially interesting story, with plenty of gut-pummeling smut, and characters. I will say leading into the book I really like Belle, our female lead... up until she’s taken by her mates. She starts out with this really interesting character right off the bat who I would have loved to get to know more before she becomes a brainless sex-drunk omega... Especially her notion of being able to get through any menial task as if her life is dependent on it, I think that gives us a really good idea of how tough it has been for her and how she’s only been able to get through, even the smallest things, by making them huge ordeals that directly tie to her fate. I would have been interested to see what she would have done if she’d managed to run away or literally done anything more than what she got to do before those three showed up.

So, the potentially interesting female lead doesn’t last long... The moment she’s subdued by alpha pheromones this character no longer exists, and especially after she gets a cock (or three) stuffed in her this girl no longer has any thought on the mind other than constantly being fucked. Which like... fair, but her being like that for the rest of the 200 or so pages just makes her fucking boring honestly, and I ended up more interested in reading from the male leads perspectives than hers cause 9 out of 10 times she is just figuring out what she needs to do to get plowed (spoiler; not much).

I liked the male leads, I guess (did not like the idea of a human penis with a knot). Silas is the lead alpha, he’s in charge, no nonsense, and less of a stick in the mud than Dax. Dax is the next after Silas, he’s even more stoic than his brother, doesn’t talk much, and has a, to quote, “log between his legs.” Nate is their half-brother who is a half-shifter. He likes to whine, eat a long, and anal sex. Oh, and surprise... there is a fourth brother, Brams. He is fine, not around for most of the book but basically like Silas except a little bit cleaner cut and a little bit better at seeming like a gentleman. Oh, and he is also the firstborn which means him and Silas have beef since he is not also the lead alpha.

For what it was this book had decent writing, an okay but lacking plot, and literally buckets on buckets of smut. Unfortunately, it also had an infantilized female lead, male characters who were overbearing, and did I mention they have human penises with knots. Overall, I found myself physically tensing up and holding my breath as I read this, I was uncomfortable for the majority of it, and I had to give myself a two-day break between finishing it and writing this review for recouperation time. I blame a lot of physical reactions to this due to the omegaverse nature of it and the rest to characters I deem overall mediocre leaning towards bad. Had I gotten more out of Belle I think I would have enjoyed this more. 5/10

Would I read again? No, god please don’t make me ㅠㅠ

Would I recommend? To someone who is looking for a smut-heavy omegaverse read - yes. To anyone else? No.

1 note · View note

kageyuji · 4 years

Text

shortening his name except he thinks you called him another guy’s name

⤷ oikawa, bokuto, atsumu, suna, mattsun ; [gn!reader]

GENRE/WARNINGS: comfort(?), angst if you squint hard enough, mild swearing

NOTES: i will literally offer my hand in marriage if you reblog. and thank you to @/sugawaaras for giving me the idea for mattsun’s <33

━━ OIKAWA

even though he tried to be confident, in reality, his self confidence sat on a throne built from things he told himself in the mirror and compliments he never believed

so its not a surprise that his first reaction just... isn’t one. he’ll stop and replay it over and over again in his head to make sure he’d heard you correctly

and then his heart breaks — it actually hurts him, makes him feel like he can’t breath, and before he even knows it theres tears in his eyes

of course, he knows you’re never supposed to let the reason you’re crying see you crying

so he attempts to act like he’s more annoyed than that he just had his heart just obliterated

it’s not a secret though. through the pain in his eyes, anyone can see the shattered remnants of what was once his heart

“ru, can you grab my phone for me?” you called to your boyfriend from the couch, remembering that you’d left your phone in the other room.

it was quiet for a moment; not long enough for you to ask if he was okay, but long enough that the silence was odd. you heard heavy footfalls again, then saw oikawa standing just inside the room with a clear look of betrayal on his face.

“what?” you asked him, wondering if he was kidding around. you hadn’t done anything, there was no reason why he’d actually be upset with you.

as he stepped closer to you, you could see the tears whelling up in his eyes, and you were left to wonder what was wrong.

“what’s wrong? tooru, hey, are you ok?” your voice was much softer when you spoke this time. your heart dropped when you saw him step back at your step forward.

“so now you can call me by my name?” you think his voice was meant to be low and hostile, but in his struggle not to cry it came out strangled and cracked.

“what did... do you mean ‘ru?”

“yes! who the hell is that? if you wanted to-“

“no no, babe, your name is tooru. the last syllable of your name is ru. it’s just a shortening of your name, not someone else’s.”

you watched his lips form a smile and he let out something like a laugh, seemingly at his own confusion, and then the tears finally fell.

he’d walked into your arms soon after, with his arms wrapped tightly around you and his face buried in the crook of your neck

“sorry... sorry for not trust- trusting you, i just-” his sentence was cut through with sharp breaths and hiccups, and then finally stopped with your own voice.

“it’s alright, i didn’t mean to scare you. we can cuddle if you want, hm?”

he was already struggling to keep himself from fully breaking down. but when one of your hands came up to pet his hair, a whine left him — you think it was supposed to be an ‘mhm’ to your offer — and his hands gripped tightly at your shirt, his arms around you getting tighter.

━━ BOKUTO

he doesn’t miss a beat, immediately looking up at you to wonder if he’d heard you correctly

it’s just a small spike of anxiety at first, but the more he lets the foreign name resonate with him, the more it makes him worry

he has to build up the courage to ask you who the other guy is, because he can’t do it right away, he’s way too nervous

he looks so sad as well, puppy dog eyes looking at you, seemingly just slightly worried

unbeknownst to you, his heart is pounding in is chest and with each passing second, it runs the risk of shattering

“‘taro!” your voice was a giggle as he left little kisses all over you. they weren’t nearly enough to leave hickeys, just little pecks across your face, your neck, your chest.

as soon as the name left your lips though, he stopped, golden eyes snapping up to look at you with a pain you’d never seen in them before.

you could tell he was definitely upset about something, but you had no idea what it could be. hell, the way he looked at you, it was almost as though you were the reason.

of course, you were unaware that bokuto’s first thoughts went to rintaro, middle blocker from the famed inarizaki. suddenly he was thinking of every time you’d ever spoken about the team, said how many fan girls they had, how many games they’d won.

he wanted to say something. he really wanted to ask what you’d meant. but the words seemed caught in his throat.

it wasn’t long before he couldn’t take it though, and he pushed the words out, despite the alarms going off in his head and his heart immediately jumping to his throat.

“who is ‘taro?” you didnt think you’d ever heard him sound so small. so timid, so close to his voice cracking with the tears he was holding back, so... scared.

“you? who else? i can call you kou if you’d prefer that though. you don’t have to look so upset.”

bokuto smiled then, relaxing the weight on his arms enough so he was on top of you. he supported himself enough not to crush you, but there was nothing more he wanted in the world right now than to be held by you.

━━ ATSUMU

he liked to consider himself a tough guy. he liked to.

but there were times whenever his support fell, leaving his world to crumble in his hands, slipping through his fingers no matter how hard he tried to hold it all together

and when thought he heard a guy’s name that isn’t his own come from you, it felt just like one of those times

he was asking what you’d meant before his mind could even properly register your words

and by that point he didn’t care enough to replay the name in his head, his mind already caught up looking for the things he’d done wrong, the things he hadn’t done.

“oh, ‘umi, if you want to we can go to th-”

“what the hell?”

it surprised you how much venom laced his words, despite the fact that you’d done nothing wrong. the thought that he was being sarcastic or joking with you crossed your mind, but atsumu wasn’t exactly the best actor.

he couldn’t fake the look on his face, couldn’t fake how his heart had seemingly stopped just from the look in his eyes.

“what do you mean?” your voice was soft when you spoke now, no longer so nonchalant.

he lips pressed into a thin line and he set his jaw in frustration. it took him taking a deep breath to finally say, “you called me ‘omi.’ if you like-”

“tsumu.”

“no, i heard you, you called me omi. if- if theres...” he never finished his sentence. there was already a lump in his throat and he knew that if he were to say anything more, he’d cry.

“no, no. i called you umi. like your name just a little bit different.”

his face was drawn in a look on confusion. his eyes studied you, trying to look for any sign of you lying. but he trusted you, of course he trusted you.

he came over to hug you, his arms wrapped tightly around you. you heard him sniff, but you knew he’d deny crying if you asked him.

“i love you,” his voice made him sound so small, it was a level of weak and vulnerable you’d not seen from him.

“i love you too.”

━━ SUNA

the words “stay calm” had never been repeated in his head to himself so much

well, it was more like a string of curse words with “stay calm” thrown in occasionally, but he’d never felt so scared

the look on his face is annoyed at first, but it quickly starts to shift into one with a little more worry

he’s terrified, in all honesty. but he’s already told himself he’s not going to let you see that

“taro, can we stop by a corner store on the way home? i need something.”

your voice had been so calm. so why did it feel like his heart had just been ripped out of his chest?

he knew you hadn’t meant to. but why you’d even slipped and call him by another name in the first place worried him. it took him only a few seconds for his mind to land on bokuto koutarou.

bokuto koutarou, one of the top aces.

“well fuck you too i guess.” his tone may have been confused with one of anger at first, but you could tell that wasnt it. anger is a secondary emotion, you knew in reality he was hurt.

the only problem is, you didn’t know what. from his words you knew it was something you’d done. but there was nothing that came to mind.

“sorry? what did i do?”

suna hesitated for only a second before asking why you’d called him by another name. he took a deep breath immediately after speaking, your silence only breaking his heart more. as though it wasn’t already destroyed.

but your silence was born from shock and confusion, not being caught like suna had assumed.

“taro. like rintarou. like your name. who else would i be talking about?”

“uhm. koutarou? i don’t know, forget about it.” he’d never felt like a bigger jackass before; he never swore at you.

you smiled a little at his words and walked over to hug him. he hummed at that and pressed a small kiss to your temple, then buried his face into the crook of your neck.

“i didn’t mean to-”

“it’s ok, rin.”

━━ MATTSUN

he had to stop for a moment to let it sink in before he could react

after that there were too many emotions rushing through him to do anything for another few moments

in fact, his silence coupled with the distant, betrayed look on his face was somewhat unsettling

it takes him longer than he would like to question you, but it’s because he’s already preparing to collect his shattered heart after one of his worst fears becomes true

“why are you here?” mattsun heard iwaizumi’s voice and he smiled a little to himself, knowing that he must have been talking to you.

he’d been waiting for you all day, it seemed like forever since he’d last seen you. the only thing he wanted right now was to hold you.

“oh, i’m here to see ‘kawa!” you said happily. mattsun could hear the smile in your voice without even seeing you.

you were here for oikawa. of course you were here for starboy oikawa tooru, of course your boyfriend was just a stepping stone.

he was still frozen when you rounded the corner. the look on his face was concerning, you couldn’t remember the last time — if there ever was one — he’d looked absolutely terrified, the last time he looked so hurt.

“mattsun... are you ok?”

he didn’t answer you. it took him a few moments before he could finally speak, and even then his voice was different than it usually was. it was... pained? betrayed? whatever it was, you knew it wasn’t mattsun.

“did you really come here just to see oikawa? what happened to me being your boyfriend?”

it took you a few moments to try and understand what he was talking about. you’d never said that. hell, you always came for mattsun, not once had you ever spared oikawa a thought.

“no, babe. i said ‘kawa’, as in matsukawa.”

he seemed to melt at your words. that expression disappeared from his face, his body untensing. he moved to pull you into his arms, holding you close to himself with a desperation he’d not had before.

him thumb rubbed soothing circles on your back. you could tell he wanted to say something. but then he stopped right before the words left him, instead opting to make a joke to lift the mood.

“good, i was about to kick oikawa’s ass.”

“...we were having a moment.”

5K notes · View notes

hotwings0203 · 3 years

Text

Idk what this is but the thought of you being scared of Bakugos quirk is so hot to me

Tw:noncon, predatory behavior

“I swear he’s getting to be more and more like a villain every time I see him,” you giggle with Mina as you two walk out of the class. Bakugo had yet again exploded at one of your shared teachers for correcting him in his pronunciation of a word, and as usual it was quite a scene to behold. Chairs were almost thrown, his friends had to hold him back from leaping up while others egged him on, itching for amusement in their mind-numbingly dull class.

“Maybe Shigaraki was right,” your pink-haired friend snorts and you both collapse in wheezes, clawing and slapping at each other’s shoulders as the ludicrous image of Shigaraki being unable to reign in Bakugo comes to mind.

“Hey ladies, what’re you two laughing about?” A lilting and charming voice comes right at your ear, and you turn to see Denki, Kirishima and…Bakugo walking next to you.

Just because of his proximity and how you were literally just talking about him two seconds ago, you jump away from Bakugo’s glowering face and not so subtly hide behind Mina in a half playful jest.

“Huh? Whatcha ya jumpin’ around for?” Kirishima laughs and you exchange an embarrassed look with Mina.

“Oh nothing, we were just talking about how Bakugo’s quirk is totally villainous. We’re lucky he’s on our side,” Mina singsongs, but you slap her arm in alarm.

And well placed alarm at that, because Bakugo’s scowl deepens as he turns his head to you in a death-glare. You swallow hard seeing his expression and try to nervously laugh.

“But, uh, we were just joking. Right Mina?” You give her a pointed look and she deflects it happily.

“Nope! At least you weren’t, you’re half scared to death of him, isn’t that right Y/N?”

Denki interrupts before you can sputter in horror.

“Honestly, who isn’t scared of this dude?” He claps the other blond on his back and yelps when Bakugo’s hands start curling with smoke.

“Watch it dumbass.” He cranes his head to meet your eyes, but when he finds that you’re still avoiding eye contact with him he starts moving around his friends to better talk to you.

“My quirk isn’t that scary you idiot. It’s not like I care enough about any of you to blow you up-“

But with the smoke still curling form his hands and with the permanently intimidating scowl on his face reading closer and close to your, you can’t help but squeal and scrabble around him to sink your nails into Kirishima’s shoulders for protection.

“Okay, I get it! You don’t have to come any closer, I can see fine from here.” Your voice comes out too high and strained to be deemed as joking, but nonetheless everyone laughs at your dramatic show.

Everyone but Katsuki. Because he can see you’re actually scared, he’s seen it a hundred times on civilians who try to pretend they’re fine but still have that panicked glint in their eye.

“Jesus Y/N, with a reaction like that maybe he really is a villain. Bakubro, want us to send you back to Shigaraki’s place? Maybe you should reconsider his offer.”

And finally at Denki’s quip everyone including you this time laughs again in playful agreement, but yet again Bakugo’s blood starts simmering further.

Why the fuck were you being so obnoxious? He didn’t do anything to you before, right? So why the hell were you embarrassing him in front of all his friends and making him out to be this bloodthirsty monster?

Well, whatever. If a monster is what you want, then a monster is what you’ll get.

And so he waits for you after school, trailing behind you a couple hundred feet yet still keeping you in sight. He curses when you giggle with your friends, no doubt in his mind that you’re still throwing dirt on his name and he swears under his breath when you talk to Deku and his dweeb friends.

Of course when you hang around ditzy dorks like Deku he’s gonna look like a psycho in comparison.

But at one point you’re by the vending machine alone in a deserted hallway, fumbling with your coins and trying to quickly get a soda before your friends up ahead leave.

Too bad for you, because when he’s done with you they’ll never want to be seen with you again for their own safety.

You’re shoving money in the slot when he silently walks up a couple feet behind you.

“No friends around to gossip about me?”

You shriek and jump a good foot in the air at the sudden voice behind you. Clutching your heaving chest, you whirl around to see who it is.

Your blood runs cold. It’s Katsuki Bakugo, the absolute last person you want to be alone with in a deserted hallway.

Your feet move a step back.

Wrong move.

His nostrils flare and his eyes widen at your insulting retreat. You know he doesn’t take kindly to it, but with an expression like that how could you not?

“Uh, w-what do you mean?” You chuckle nervously.

He doesn’t laugh. In fact, he does something worse.

He matches your steps and moves forward a little bit.

At this you fully take a stride backwards and clash with the vending machine behind you.

He keeps advancing, slowly getting closer and checking you out, his head tilted as his eyes roam up and down your vulnerable body.

“Don’t move back. Why the fuck did you move away from me? That’s rude, we were just having a normal conversation.”

You surprise yourself by sounding level-headed in retaliation. “‘Kinda hard not to be a little uncomfortable when your conversation sounds so accusing.”

He lunges forward and you actually scream this time, throwing your hands up above your head in instinct to protect yourself from his proximity.

Bakugo doesn’t touch you but you can still feel his breath puffing on your head, can still feel the heat from his hands on either side of your body.

“You got a smart mouth don’t you? Is that why you embarrassed me earlier in front of everyone?”

“Embarrassed you-?” You squeak but immediately cut off when he thrusts his face right in front of yours, a manic look on his face as all his facial features stretch into a irate leer.

“I guess we’ll have to fix that tongue of yours. Put it to better use than to talk shit about me, right?”

Vermilion irises move from your face down your body, lingering on your chest and at the apex in between your legs.

Bile rises to your throat as he licks his lips and lets his lips ghost over yours, oh so close yet not touching.

And in the second before he descends, you shove him off with nothing but pure adrenaline feeling your fear and race past him, blindly running down the halls as fast as you can.

Surprisingly, you don’t hear anyone behind you. That doesn’t mean you don’t stop running though.

The real reason you don’t hear anyone behind you is because Katsuki Bakugo has an eerie smile on his face at your bolt. He languidly stretches his arms above his head and relishes in the popping of his joints, and in succession the popping of sparks in his hand. He kicks one leg out, then the other just to ensure you get a fair head start.

You’ve just made this so much more interesting.

He sets off at a light jog, and even in his carefree pace his strides are enough to eventually catch up with you, instinct like an animal’s guiding him through the winding halls and ending up catching a glimpse of your feet as you turn into another lane.

You’re panting, sweat pouring down your eyes as panic makes it hard to breathe or think rationally. The adrenaline that was pushing you is now dying down but at the worst time.

You take a quick glance back and your rapidly beating heart falters as you see him with a grin on his face as he practically jogs leisurely behind you. You’ve seen this same face on him when he’s in the battlefield, blasting through enemy hearts and blowing up heads as if they were fireworks.

He’s bloodthirsty. He wants you.

“Running away again? That’s not very heroic of you babe,” he calls out, and it’s terrifyingly infuriating how he’s not out of breath.

“Leave me the fuck alone,” you half scream and sob, trying to run faster but failing miserably.

You see a bathroom sign out of the corner of your eye and frantically stumble towards it.

Katsuki knows you know he’s even you take a turn and he laughs to himself at how boringly easy this is.

Maybe he was scary.

He shakes it off and continues his hunt after you, coming forth until he faces the bathroom door in which you were cowering behind.

There’s a small window, and no other door. Just a couple of stalls, a terrified girl, and a psycho with the taste of revenge practically palpable on his lustful tongue.

He knock with faux politeness. “You wanna come out and do this the easy way or you want me to barge in and take you myself?”

You sob and wheeze in response, desperately pushing against the flimsy door in a pathetic attempt to keep him out. Bakugo merely crosses his arms and leans against the door, staring intently at it with a smile still on his face.

Judging by the weight pushing more at the bottom of the door, he can tell you’re probably sitting down in an effort to catch your breath.

You both know he can come in at any time he so well pleases, but he decides he’ll play by your rules for a bit longer, indulge you a little before your inevitable downfall.

He hums loudly and slides down to join your parallel position on the floor.

“I’m tryina be nice here, y’know. You acted so scared of me when I never even bothered you before. Aren’t I being nice right now by letting you choose for yourself?”

He sounds so conversational, as if he were talking to one of his buddies. You stay silent but your silence speaks volumes.

It serves as nothing but a means to piss him off further.

The two of you sit in silence for seemingly hours, even though it’s only around 20 minutes. Every second you feel like he’s going to break down the door any second and blast your face off, but miraculously he doesn’t.

You don’t know what you’d rather prefer: for him to prolong your strained agony by letting you be so close yet so far from him, or to end your suffering and get it done with.

But you needn’t sit in silence stewing in your own fear any further, for at the exact moment you begin to doze off with the dying of the light the weight on the other side of the door lifts and you startle awake at the scuffling on the other side.

You blink a couple of times and blanch when you see through the window the purple light indicating that you really have been here longer than you thought.

Bakugo cracks his knuckles and rolls his head, popping a few more kinks in his neck before breathing out and bracing for impact.

“Ready or not little bitch, here I come.”

“Bakugo, wait-!”

But your plea doesn’t last for more than two words. The door bangs open with such a sound that you actually think he’s blasted it straight off his hinges. You gasp and shield yourself, jumping backwards and covering your face.

“‘Thought I made it clear by now that you can’t run. So why’d you try to leave? Huh? Think you’re smarter than me? You think you’re stronger than me?”

He’s stalking forward again, and you’re left tripping back over your feet and whimpering at his salacious intent as he backs you up and corners you into a stall.

He already knows the answers to his rhetorical questions but he wants to hear you say it. He wants to hear that scornful conviction in your voice about how big and bad he was that you used earlier.

With you tripping backwards into the cramped stall, his approach quickens in hunger at feeling you, feeling the fear radiating off your body.

Bakugo presses up against you against the wall and takes up the space around you, invading your personal bubble. He’s everywhere, growling in your ear, hands gripping your waist so tight you’re sure bruises sprout from his touch, his erect penis grinding on the inside of your thigh.

Your trepidation and terror rises to an insurmountable height as he smothers you.

When he suddenly grips your chin and forces your head to face him you gasp. His touch is even more callous than you thought.

“You lookin’ here bitch? Good.”

His palm is raised towards you and before you can even widen your eyes in realization his appendage starts sparking madly. You shriek and try to throw him loose as little bits of embers fly out and made your face, his voice rough as always yet dangerously low and soft.

“S’not so scary after all is it? You’re reacting better to it than I thought.” Bakugo Blanca you mocks your writhing figure as you desperately try to evade the mini explosions.

“Okay, I get it, please stop I don’t like it!” You shrilly cry out but his hand moves from your jaw down to your neck, and squeezes the last remnants of opposition out of you.

“Yeah? Good, I’m glad you get it. But honestly, I don’t care if you don’t like it.

Because I like it. I fucking love this quirk, ‘specially when you cower so prettily under it like you did earlier.”

You choke and try to scrabble at his hands but it’s like a butterfly’s touch to him, barely producing any fruition.

“I kept wondering to myself: why do I care if she’s scared of it? And then I realized,” he leans in and lets his lips brush over your ear, lets his hand lessen ever so slightly so that your main focus is his words.

“You just looked good enough to eat when you know you’re beneath me. When you know how dangerous I am.”

He pulls back and assesses the look on your face. “Makes you look good enough to eat.”

And without further ado he lowers his hand and starts rubbing his alit palm on your clothed pussy, his erection getting harder as your screams wilt into whines.

Your legs flail uselessly as he burns a hole through your pants and his fingers hook aside the band of your panties.

Bakugo thrusts his hips forwards and grinds his straining cock on your moist lips, taking in your blubbers and teary eyes.

You can’t even speak, you can only cry out like a child as he thrusts harder and harder, so hard that your back hits the wall painful and the stall walls rattle behind you.

“You-pant-fucking scared-pant-now slut?” He rasps, his head bobbing on rhythm with yours as he practically lifts you off your toes to match his pace.

Your clit is caught between the fabric and rolled cruelly pleasurable as his tip leaks precum, staining your own panties in the process.

With your attention rapt on his now-uncovered dick sliding in and out of your folds, he takes this opportunity to take his other hand off your neck and blast the wall next to your face.

The second you open your mouth in shock as bits of tile rain down on your face he slams his steaming palm over your lips, burning the soft flesh as you weep openly.

He sets off two more near your sides and another above your head, his own face aligned right in front of yours so you can see the mean smile on his face all the while he sets your heart racing at an alarming speed.

When the smoke clears and you can start feeling glass and tile imprint on your once-smooth face, he positions his dick up so that it prods at your hole and yanks your hair back.

His eyes practically glow with the mini fires preserved in the walls with his blasts, the impact of the air rushing around him makes his hair even spikier, his body is taunt and even more imposing than before.

His teeth gleam with the orange and red light next to you. His chest doesn’t heave, because he’s at ease with your terror.

“You think you know fear?”

With one swift movement he shoves up into you, but this time he doesn’t cover your mouth.

“You haven’t met me truly yet.”

1K notes · View notes

rezzyromance · 3 years

Note

Idk if this is how you request things or if it's just asking, BUT-

How would the Lords react to an S/O that's usually the chillest person that you will ever meet (not to be confused with a pushover because they are not), they've never seen them even mildly annoyed when something bad happens. But then something happens and, turns out, the S/O is utterly TERRIFYING when they're mad.

Hope this makes sense!

Aw man I'm gonna feel awful scaring Moreau and Donna :(

Alcina

You're relaxing on a beautiful morning. The sun is shining through the window just enough to warm the room but not hurt your eyes. You hadn't even changed out of your sleep wear. "How are you feeling, my dear?", a sweet voice rang from the doorway. You were sitting in your favorite chair near the window. You turn and smile at her. She walks over and rubs your face in her large hand before leaning down and giving you a soft kiss. "I'm feeling amazing. And you?", you grab her hand before she pulls it away and you place a kiss on her knuckles. "I'm feeling alright. There's a new maid here. She's a bit slow. I'm giving her until tonight to finish dusting the entire castle or else she won't see another sunrise." It was almost comedic how dark her words were as you both stared out the window and gazed at the beautiful scenery. "Come on Alcina.", you stand up and place your hands on hers, trying to hold them despite the size difference. "Give the girl a break. It's a huge castle AND it's her first day.", you knew your words would probably change nothing. Alcina was rather cruel, but you looked past it. You tried your best to make the nervous maids comfortable whenever they arrive.

"We'll see how she does." She gives you one more kiss before leaving the room. You sit back down in your chair, enjoying the warmth of the sun for a little while longer. You lose track of time, minutes maybe even hours go by. Suddenly, there's a crash not far from the door. You jump and stand up, no longer comfortable after being startled. "What in the name of Mother Miranda?!", you leave the room and look down the hallway. The new maid stood there with a terrified look on her face. In front of her was one of the paintings Alcina had on her walls, now with a broken frame and a hole punctured. Your blood began to boil. It was a painting of you, her, and the girls all together. It was your favorite. "How in the hell did you manage to do that?!", you begin to stomp towards her. She cowers and struggles to find her words. "I-I-I was just dusting! It fell and I-I didn't mean t-", you cut her off. "How the fuck did you knock such a large painting over just by dusting?! DO YOU THINK YOU'RE ALLOWED TO MAKE SUCH STUPID MISTAKES HERE?!", you unravel. "I-I didn't mean to! I'm sorry!", she almost begins to weep. "SORRY ISN'T GONNA SAVE YOUR ASS!"

"MISS DIMITRESCU PLEASE HELP!", she cries out. You freeze, realizing that the lady herself is right behind you. You turn to face her. Her eyes are wide with shock. She has never seen you like this before and never even knew you had this type of side to you. She was impressed as much as she was terrified. "(Y/N)? Are you alright my love?" She had no idea what to do as your seething slowed down. "Why don't you go back to the room, yes? Settle down a little and deal with her later.", she places a hand on your back helps walk with you back to the room. Once you're there, she bends down to whisper in your ear. "I don't know where this side of you has been this whole time, but I am so amazed by you. And also a little frightened."

Donna

The Beneviento house was usually a calm place despite its creepy aura. You and Donna are both quiet and chill people. Never once have you fought or even raised your voices at each other. It was pleasant.

You had planned a nice dinner for the both of you. You wanted to try out a new recipe and surprise her, so you made your way to the kitchen to get started. "Okay, what first? I guess I'll need a pot.", you go rummaging through the kitchen and you find the pots stacked within each other inside one of the top cabinets. You groan and stand up on your toes, grazing the pots with your fingers. It didn't take much to cause them to tumble down, crashing on top of you with a loud sound that followed. "Aw shit.", you sighed and picked up the knocked over pots. A small but annoying pain began to throb in your head from where it made contact with a pot. What you didn't notice was you forgot to pick one of the pots up. It remained unnoticed. "It's fine.", you say to yourself as you maintain your composure. Next, a cutting board and knife. You turn around and begin to walk forward to find the cutting board, but you slam your toe into counter. You wince in pain and grab your foot. "SON OF A BITCH!", you yell.

You calm yourself, still wanting to have a pleasant meal with Donna. "Alright. Everything's fine." You step forward and kick the pot that you had forgotten to pick up. It caused your freshly kicked toe to ache even more. "OH COME ON! GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!", you scream and swear as you throw your arms up in pure rage and shock.

"...(Y/N)?", a gentle voice whispered from the doorway, causing you to whip your head in that direction. It was Donna. She looked absolutely horrified and almost looked like she could cry. "Is.. is everything... are you alright?", she worried. "Yes. I'm sorry. Just got a little pissed off.", you took a deep breath to calm yourself down, feeling bad for scaring the poor girl.

Moreau

You were sitting on the dock together, looking into the water as your feet swung back and forth above it. It was a sunny day and you two decided to spend it outside. Your hand slowly made its way over to his. His feet stopped swinging for a second as you entangled your fingers. "I don't know what I'd do without you, (Y/N)." his words were bitter sweet as a gentle smile formed from his lips. "Oh, Sal. You don't have to think like that. I'll always be here for you.", you kiss his cheek and continue to relax as you sway your legs.

"There it is! There's the beast!", a voice yelled from not so far away. You both look in the direction of the voice and see a few young village boys. Possibly between the ages of 13 and 16. Moreau had become some what of a scary story for the villagers. A tale that kids spread on school court yard and bring up during dares. But, you've never seen a kid brave enough to actually make it far enough into the reservoir to actually see Moreau. Now, there were about 3. All of them stood and pointed, shocked and terrified.

"Hey beast! Come get me!", one kid teases. You glare at the kids as a newfound rage begins to boil inside you. "Let's go back inside.", Moreau says before standing up from the doc. The sadness in his voice was heartbreaking. Suddenly, one of the children gathers the guts to pick up a rock and throw it as hard as he could. His aim was off, but not by much. It slammed into the wood near Moreau's feet, startling him. "Take that you devil!", he laughs. "THAT'S IT YOU LITTLE SHIT!", you begin sprinting in the direction of the immature brats. Two of them run from the direction they came from while the one who threw the rock was frozen in fear. You took the opportunity to grab him by the collar of his shirt. "Listen here you little waste of space. I'm gonna give you 3 seconds to turn around and run for your goddamn life. If you or any of your little snot-nosed friends come around here again, they'll be goddamn fish food. Do you understand?" The kid was too scared to speak and instead began to nod rapidly. You let him go and watched as he ran as fast as he could, screaming the whole way.

You walk back to the shack and find Moreau standing in the same place he was when you took off. His mouth was agape and he looked almost as scared as the kids. "You alright Sal? I made sure those little shits won't be coming around here anymore." "Yeah... I didn't know you could be so... scary", he says. "I'm sorry. But those kids were being cruel. I had to do something.", you say. "Well... it was awesome!", he smiled. "But also very scary!" You laugh which helps sooth him a little.

Heisenberg

"Screw driver.", is all Karl said with an outstretched palm. He was working on some type of mechanical heart for his experiments. He wanted you to lend a "helping hand" even though he could easily do it all by himself. He did this because he wanted to be around you, he was just too stubborn with too big of an ego to simply say it. So here you were, handing him every little tool he asks for.

"Do you want the big one or the little one?", you say with a hint of boredom in your tone. "Aw c'mon don't sound like that! Isn't this exciting? It's like you're working on it with me! Also, hand me the big one.", you do as he says and hand him the big screw driver. "I just don't get it. You literally have powers. You can easily do this by yourself and have been for so long. Why do you need me to help?" He pauses for a second and looks over towards you, his brow slightly furrowed. "I don't NEED you to help. I just thought it would be nice for you to help out. Plus, you're the one always bitching about me constantly working. Well, here you are! Helping me work! So, either suck it up or you can leave." His harshness had no real ill will in it. He was just confused and a bit too ignorant to consider his words. But, he was testing your patience. He continued to use the screwdriver until handing it to you without saying a word.

"Hand me a screw.", he demanded with his hand facing palm up again. "Which size?" "They're all the same sizes, dumbass." You feel your blood begin to boil. "They're different fucking sizes! This one is smaller than this one!", you hold up two screws that are obviously different sizes. This makes Karl angry. Not because you were right, but because you seemed upset over something that seemed so insignificant.

"If you came here just to yap in my ear, then I don't think I need your assistance.", he huffed. You put the selection of tools and supplies he was making you hold on the table he is working on and ball your fists. "You're the one who told me to do this in the first place!", you yell. "Yeah, because you won't stop bitching! Non-stop you're always compla-" you cut him off before he can finish. "SHUT UP!", you yell. The room goes silent. "YOU SAY I'M BITCHING? HAVE YOU HEARD YOURSELF? JESUS FUCKING CHRIST KARL YOU BITCH AND MOAN ALL THE TIME! I'M DONE TAKING SHIT FROM YOU!" He wanted to be angry, but he couldn't. He felt something much more overwhelming. Was he.. intimidated? He didn't move from his seat. All he could do was look up at you with a confused expression. What now? What is there to do? If he pushes you further, what would happen? He was actually too scared to find out.

You take a deep breath to calm down before speaking. "Now, if you want me to help with your shit, I'll stay as long as you keep your mouth shut. Can you possibly manage to do that?" He gulps nervously. "Yes ma'am."

1K notes · View notes

erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

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.

1K notes · View notes