#Buddy you are not understanding the problem here

[demonic-shadowlucifer]

I see where you're coming from and I actually kinda agree with some of the stuff you said. Here's the thing. OP never said that you should forgive them at all or be buddy buddy with them, and OP never said that you aren't allowed to be angry with them, and I'm genuinely not sure where people are getting that from. That's not the issue at hand here. The issue is that people are acting like they're iredeemable and therefore should be forced to go through hardship for the rest of their lives because of it. OP only asked that people stop being a dick to people who are trying to leave. If you can't be nice? You can simply choose to not interact with the ex-maga folks. Bam! Problem solved! It's that easy not to be a fucking jackass! /nmay I think folks just need to understand that the statements "you are not obligated to forgive those who have hurt you" and "we need to allow people to grow and learn from their mistakes instead of shunning them" are ones that can and absolutely fucking should co-exist.

This is an interesting thing. Looks like testimonies of people who left the MAGA movement- how they got into it and why.

Leaving a cult is really hard, so I really respect the people who are speaking from this place.

[lilianalovespink]

Your lungs burn.

Your skin does too.

Sweat soaked clothes cling to your skin, cotton made heavy by the sheer amount of it that you've let off in the last hour of training.

But most importantly, there's a lump in your throat that aches worse than any cough ever could've- feeling like that time you had tonsillitis as a child.

"'ny more wisdom or are you done, private?"

If you cry now, he'll be kind; understanding. He always is, but that's the problem.

"I'm done captain."

~

'Unable to follow orders without questions, unable to integrate into the team.'

Sincerely and with your entire heart, you wish only the worst upon John Price. You could follow orders, you could work with them- if they let you.

A discomfort of needle like nature pulls through your muscles at that thought, considering that you had in fact voiced it and that the consequence had been the training you usually do over the course of three hours having to get done within an hour, no breaks, no warmups.

The worst part, you thought as you stepped out of the showers, is that in his view, he didn't hate you but rather...think you incompetent; a cocky amateur with too much of their chest puffed out.

You, a little child, a toddler acting rebellious or throwing a tantrum, and him, the sensible adult, strict but 'caring'.

"Shh, I know. This is too much for you. I know."

Leave it to him to make comfort a painful act; one for you to be belittled during, made out to be just another stupid teen in over their head.

Yes, you were younger than your commander, your captain, but no younger than your lieutenant or seargant.

Just not at their rank.

Your transfer to the 141 was abrupt, but by no means unwelcome. You were the best in your recruitment class, you were capable but as price, at the time you thought jokingly, put it, you weren't 'broken in'.

And boy did he have every intention of breaking you.

Training was tough, but doable except-

"You were top of your class? Again."

"There's a reason you're still a private."

"If you can't manage, leave."

And then, whenever you snap at him, show teeth at the hand that constantly strikes you, he's a saint. He's really just putting you what everyone else is going through, why are you this upset? Clearly because you're immature.

If you can hold back your urge to bite bite bite- this man, if you try to ask him stuff it's really a coin flip of what version of Captain John Price you'll get.

"You can't handle it? That's okay. It's okay, hey- no crying. Come here...yeah, that's a good girl."

Or, in case you didn't crawl between his legs like a scared puppy-

"I'm only being hard on you because I thought you wanted to be better. Was I wrong about that? Or do you want to be something other than a private one day?"

The worst part is that, the team seems to see you as a puppy as well- with you literally getting that as a monicker.

Lt. Riley wasn't as cold and mysterious as you expected when you first saw the mask, but he certainly wasn't hellbent on letting you be his buddy, let alone his comrade. He never helped you out unless you asked, but, should you make that mistake, to ask for help, he'll nod and simply guide you aside like you're a sheep and he's your shepherd. Like teaching you wasn't literally his job.

Sgt. MacTavish as well as Sgt. Garrick had initially been warm and inviting, had made you feel like this was your team- until you noticed how they'd leave you out whenever they could. Sure, neither of them were rude but- they weren't proper teammates either.

And then, of course, Captain Price.

What should you say about this man? How horrible he is? Would that do what he's put you through any justice?

As if this alienation from the people you literally had to trust with your life wasn't bad enough, the way they seemed to pity you was worse. Like you were a small child who dropped your candy.

It hurt, badly.

So when Commander Philipp Graves joined for a mission in Los Alamos and was the only one who treated you like you were on one level?

Yeah, you took the bait.

[9ofspades]

Seeing bullshit crop up on my dash again and I am ONCE AGAIN reminding everyone that, no; when people complain about ads, their problem isn’t necessarily “I don’t want to see ads”, but, rather, “I don’t want these companies to be putting so many ads on their products”.

Changing browsers, installing add-ons and extensions — that only lets you, personally, ignore the problem. It doesn’t actually fix anything. A very marginally better solution is to try and look for more alternatives to YouTube and whatever other places annoy you with ads. Is there anything on SoundCloud you can listen to that scratches the same itch? Can you ask people who make music for fun to put their sound files on tumblr? Can you download .mp3 or .wav files from anywhere? Rip stuff onto or off of CDs that you buy?

Sure, you can block YouTube’s ads. But doing that isn’t going to stop the company from engaging in shitty practices to try and sell you the ad-free version. Doing that isn’t going to stop the company from trying to put up so many ads in the first place. Trying to contribute, even in some tiny amount, to reducing the popularity and ubiquity of that company’s product as a direct response to its user-hostile practices? Maybe it won’t make enough of a difference. But, who knows? Maybe it’ll snowball.

[larnax]

oh yea i never did post that therion/temenos analysis bc it refused to get under 2k words but the crux of it was that therion is a very passive character to the point that not killing people is about the only choice he personally makes(even in their final argument, darius is the one who starts it and therion is just defending himself for the majority of it), otherwise he's always following someone else's orders, whether it be heathcote or barham and he fucking hates his job. temenos on the other hand is an intj empath with a savior complex who is extremely active, refuses to listen to anyone he doesn't respect which is all but one person who dies before the first chapter is over, and his job is his life's calling.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

eyes on the prize

a/n: me writing a fic where rafe is actually wholesome and nice? i didn't see it coming either... this idea just came to me when you were all voting for the kinktober fic a while ago, and i was prepping that it maybe could go in this direction and then ended up falling too much in love with the fantasy, so i simply had to get it out of my system.

summary: “in a week, when we’ve turned in the assignment, and everything is over, I want you to come watch me fight… watch me win…” a cocky smirk twitched at the corner of his lips as he awaited your answer.

warnings: mma!rafe cameron x reader, smut, college au, study buddies to lovers, soft!rafe, autumnal vibes, takes place in the beginning of november, studying, friday the 13th references, scaredy cat!reader, violence, mma fights, kissing, semi-public sex, clothed sex, dirty talk, manhandling, ripping pantyhose, size kink, spit kink, hole inspection, penetrative sex, unprotected sex

word count: 2626

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“So,” you hesitantly broke the silence that had fallen over both you and the partner that had been assigned to you on this current project, “did you get up to anything fun on Halloween?” 

Glancing up from the thick book Rafe’s bored gaze was rushing through, it instead lingered on you for but a moment as his mutter reverberated in the quiet corner of the university’s library, “uhm, yeah. I popped by a party for a bit.” 

“The one at delta neu?” a glint flickered in your eye as soon as he offered you a nod, “me too! Though I went home kinda early, so we might have missed each other… what did you going as?” 

“Jason,” he simply uttered. 

“Jason who?” the soft smile didn’t fade from your lips as his short answer hadn’t landed the way he’d hoped. 

“You know,” his brows furrowed slightly at your cluelessness, repeating once again as if the name alone should be enough for you to understand, “Jason.” 

“…Jason Statham? Jason Momoa?” your eyes squinted as you quietly attempted to hit the bullseye, “uhm… I can’t really think of any other famous Jasons right now…” 

“No, Jason from Friday the 13th. You know, the dude with the hockey mask and the machete.” 

“Ah, him… yeah, I haven’t watched those movies,” you shrugged, “but, cool costume.” 

“Wait, you’ve never seen Friday the 13th?” he tilted closer to where you sat across the table from him, “not even the cheesy remake?” 

“Nope,” you simply returned your gaze to the textbook beneath your fingers.  

“Seriously?” his eyebrows didn’t float back down yet, “well, I don’t know if I should be offended that you’ve never watched that masterpiece before or jealous that you get to experience it for the first time, but either way, that’s a problem we need to fix.” 

At first, you thought you’d entered the wrong building. 

That was until you rounded the corner, and your gaze fluttered up from the map still open on your phone, guiding you to the mysterious address your study partner had texted you, asking you to meet up with him there before the rest of your plans could unfold, that you discovered that you hadn’t stumbled into the wrong place. 

Though that wasn’t the only thing you discovered in that moment as the culmination of that enlightenment was spotting Rafe in the middle of the industrial and cold gym, going through the tail end of some drills with his trainer. 

As he went through the combinations and grunted like a guard dog, sweat dripped down from his brow and rolled so low that it cascaded over his already glistening and bare chest. 

You hadn’t really noticed how your feet had stopped or how your pulse had picked up so fiercely that you could feel it between your thighs before his own eyes located you and he flashed you a smile.

“Hey!” his voice cut through your trance as he patted his coach on the shoulder and began to near the edge of the ring. 

“H-hi,” you blinked, shaking your fuzzy head slightly to clear it, “I didn’t know you were into this sort of stuff,” you briefly waved a hand to the gym around you and tried your best to rip your stare away from his heaving chest. 

“Yeah,” he began to loosen a glove, “sorry I asked you to meet me here, I’m just really busy these days cause I’ve got a fight coming up.” 

“Oh, well we don’t have to have a silly movie night if you don’t have the time,” you averted your gaze, recalling how before you’d been paired with him on the assignment for Callahan’s class, you hadn’t even been sure of what his name was. You’d just known him as the hot guy, three rows behind you. 

“No, no, I want to, unless of course you’ve changed your mind.”

Blinking back up into his eyes, you smiled, “definitely not.”

“Well, great,” a grin spread across his lips, “then just give me a second,” he cast a brief glance over his broad shoulder at the locker room, “and then we can head back to my place,” a notion you hadn’t expected would have ended with you up on the back of his motorcycle, a terrifying concept that you’d somehow been unable to deny as the crush that had blossomed and bloomed within your heart for him had made it near impossible for you to say no to a single one of his suggestions. 

“You never told me what you went as,” Rafe hummed beside you, causing your eyes to tear away from the horror movie buzzing on the TV.

Blinking over at him next to you on the leather couch, your fingers began to fiddle with the blanket you’d slumped over yourself, “oh, well I didn’t wanna buy anything new, so I just went through my closet and ended up going as Britney Spears because I found the skirt of my old school uniform. I don’t even remember why I brought it with me the last time I went home, but–, ah!” a shriek suddenly shuttered through your form as your eyes accidentally fluttered back towards the screen just in time to witness the villain sink a large blade into the head of one of the drunk teenagers, “oh my god!” your frame couldn’t help but jump at the fright, nearly tossing the blanket across the room as you instinctively hid your features in the mass of Rafe’s bicep. 

As your heart raced and thumped in your chest, you felt Rafe’s shoulder begin to move before you heard his laughter. 

“Shut up, it’s not funny!” you smacked him lightly in the chest, though kept your vision darkened by his shirt, “so I’m not desensitised to the horrors of scary movies, big whoop!” a mutter then slipped out of your lungs, “fuck, why did I agree to this? I’m probably gonna have nightmares for weeks…”

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s just a movie,” you felt his palm find your arm in a soothing rub as his voice hummed directly above the crown of your head, “and the scene is almost over.” 

“I can’t look…” you felt yourself lean more into his touch. 

“…do you want me to describe it to you?” 

“No…” you lingered in the security of his warmth and felt the terror slowly melt from your bones. Cupping a hand on the side of your face to shield your eyes from the horrors on screen, you carefully plucked your face just shy out of his safety before you uttered, “…just tell me when it’s over…” 

The blaring light from the television reflected against the side of Rafe’s face as he gazed down into your eyes and breathed, “okay,” his stare slowly dipping and fluttering down towards your lips. 

It wasn’t till now that you noticed how close you’d accidentally scooted to him as you weren’t far from just sitting in his lap. 

Sharing his breath, your mind went entirely blank and only switched back on when you’d closed the distance betwixt your lips and now found yourself kissing your study buddy. 

Thankfully, your brain didn’t get a chance to begin spiralling as it only took Rafe half a second to reciprocate the sudden move and kiss you back. 

His strong hands found the small of your waist buried beneath the woollen blanket before he began to drag you closer, pulling you so near that you actually did wind up sitting in his lap, your fingers fluttering against his buzzcut as his own scooped down over the curve of your ass. 

When the movie gently humming from behind you was long forgotten and your soul instead had drifted straight to heaven, you felt Rafe tilt his head back to breathlessly utter, “come watch my fight…” his forehead still pressed against your own. 

Scarcely picking up on the words behind his honied hum, you breathed, “what?” 

Reeling back just enough for his eye to catch your own dazed pair, he said, “in a week, when we’ve turned in the assignment, and everything is over, I want you to come watch me fight… watch me win…” a cocky smirk twitched at the corner of his lips as he awaited your answer.

You’d never seen a fight in real life before. 

Not boxing, not mixed martial arts as this was, not even a juvenile one in a schoolyard. 

At one point, when you thought all hope seemed lost, when Rafe got pinned by his opponent and blood was trickling down from the cut at his brow so clearly that you could make it out from the second row seat you found yourself planted in, he somehow managed to turn the tides and capture the boulder of a man in a lock so fierce it made them nearly melt into one pretzel-like being. 

As he flexed his arm around the other’s throat with the rest of his limbs restricting him as well and rendering an escape near impossible, Rafe’s eyes then flickered up to catch your wide ones in the crowd. A grin appeared on his features as he held your stare a moment longer, watching as you shyly began to mirror his smile, before he tightened his hold and squeezed till the opponent opted not to bruise his pride and tap out, instead going limp in the grasp. 

Once the trophy was in his gloved hand and he’d leapt out of the ring, on his way back towards the locker room, he zigzagged through the cheering crowd and caught onto your arm, dragging you with him as he exited the buzzing hall. 

“That was insane,” you heard yourself babble as he pulled you through the corridors down towards the backroom he’d been in prior to the fight, “I mean, I know I went into it kinda blind, but I had no idea it would be like that,” adrenaline still rushed through your veins as he tugged you over the threshold and closed the door behind you, swiftly dropping his trophy to one of the long benches, “sure, it was as insane as I probably imagined, but the way that you moved, the way you slipped in and out like you were made of water or something, I mean, that was beautiful–,” the fighter then suddenly cut your rambling short as he yanked you to his sweaty form and pressed his lips to your own. However, as his feet shuffled and your spine collided with the back of the door to the small locker room, your fingers fluttered over countless of the spots where he’d been hit, causing you to jerk back and ask, “wait, shouldn’t you have someone check you out?” your eyes flickered from the cut splitting his brow to the various fresh bruises already beginning to blossom and reveal their true colours, “are you okay?”

“I’ve never felt better in my whole life,” he tried to lean back in to capture your lips once more, though you tilted away just in time for him to miss. 

“You sure? Because–”

But your words were quickly snuffed out as his hands then flew up to grasp the sides of your face to force you to notice the glint in his eye and the desire dripping in his tone, “just shut up and kiss me,” he commanded before he practically devoured you whole. 

As Rafe’s tongue danced against your own and made you feel dizzy in his tight embrace, his fingers then blindly fumbled for the lock and twisted it with a click that harmonised with the throbbing that had appeared between your thighs as soon as the fight had commenced. 

A low growl rumbled deep within his chest and melted into your mouth as he then plucked you off of the ground and lifted you into his arms. Broad palms spreading wide below your bottom, he brought you as close as possible, causing the skirt you wore to ride up and crumble at your hips. The thin barrier of your pantyhose and the underwear beneath nearly incinerated from the heat that sparked as his hips greedily rocked against your covered core, lending you to feel just how hard he was in his shorts. 

“I want you so bad,” he groaned between pecks, his fingers digging into your softness.

“Shouldn’t you be out celebrating your victory or something?” a light giggle bubbled out of you. 

“I thought that was what I was doing,” he smirked before dropping you back down onto the ground, making you gasp at his sharp movements as he suddenly spun you around to face the closed door, “unless you have a better idea of how we could celebrate,” he nipped at your neck, making your eyes flutter. 

“I–…” your teeth briefly captured your bottom lip as his front pressed against your back, and your spine instinctively arched back into him, “no, yeah, this one’s g-good…”

“Good,” he murmured in your ear before his fingers found your pantyhose in a pinch and ripped a big hole in them, nearly splitting them in two as he exposed your underwear, “do you want it?” he gripped your hips and titled them for his hard-on to perfectly nudge against the soaked cotton. 

“Y-yes,” you panted, even just that one word haven been a struggle to utter through the fog he’d cast you into. 

“How bad?” 

“So bad–, Rafe, please,” he made you squeak desperately, “I just–, please…”

Cheek smooshed against the door, you glanced over your shoulder and watched as he then kneeled down behind you. Both hands still firmly planted on your hips, keeping you in place for him, they only strayed for a moment in order to shove your skirt the rest of the way up and letting him see the wet spot decorating your panties. 

“Oh, shit…” he groaned as he tugged the gusset of your underwear all the way to the side, a string of your glossy want clung to the fabric till it snapped back against your aching core. Nearly salivating as he inspected your holes, his fingers dented your ass as he pulled you apart, splitting you open that much further and watching intently at the way your drooling cunt throbbed in anticipation for his touch. 

As if your pussy’s embarrassingly leaky state wasn’t enough, a dollop of his spit then roughly landed upon your folds, the lewdness causing you to let out a moan as he swiftly rose back up to his full height without as much as a tickle to your tingly petals.

The next thing you knew, the adrenaline coursing through you both drove Rafe to free his length from its confines and, without as much as another kiss, slammed inside of your weeping pussy in one fell motion. 

Balls nuzzled tightly against you, the very tip of him nudged against a part so deep inside of you that it made you lose your breath as he took a moment to savour the sensation, freezing up within you and huffing against your cheek as you gasped for air through your whimpers. 

“Oh my god!” one of your hands curled back to crawl at his waist, “Rafe!” 

“Now,” his hips slowly drew back, dragging his fat girth back out of you and letting you feel every little detail of him, “you just gotta be a good girl, stand right here for me,” only the bulbous head of his cock remained, keeping you plugged up as he purred in your ear, “and take it like the perfect little prize you are,” he then buried himself once more with such vigour that his heavy sack tapped sloppily against your puffy clit, “can you do that for me? Will you be my reward?” 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[on-the-clear-blue]

Dead Man's Diner pt3

Dick knew that Tim was sending him looks every few seconds.

How could he not? This places food names were honestly the best, if this was some kinda murder cult Dick would be so disappointed.

Glancing up over the menu at Danny, Dick smiled at the teen who had been whipping down the same cup for five minutes like some wild west bartender while trying very hard not to stare at the two vigilantes.

"Okay, I think I have made up my mind, Red you got what you wanted?" Finally meeting Tim's eyes, Dick mentally winced, Tim's eyes were doing that twitchy thing that happened sometimes...

"Yes. I am." Dick understand slightly but like...the puns weren't that bad

Out of the corner of his eye Dick saw Danny pop up, nearly slamming the mug he had been holding as he fumbled with a note pad, coming closer to the two, he did a pretty decent customer service smile as he waited.

Since Tim was having a problem with words, Dick went first.

"So, I'll have some Boo-berry Poltergeist pancakes, with two sunny side up eggs and a side of bacon?" Dick watched as Danny paused for a moment, let out a little laugh and then started to write before looking to Tim.

"I will have...Ugh, the Wraith waffles with the hunting hashbrowns on the side...please." Dick had seen Tim look less pained over being stabbed than say the wonderful puns.

"Alrighty, anything to drink before I head back and get started on your order?" Holding up a coffee jug in one hand and an orange juice jug in the other, Danny gave a slight smirk.

Perhaps it was the coffee but Tim looked a bit less pained after that.

---

As he slapped down a few pieces of bacon, Danny totally didn't use his ghost powers to bring the bowl of pancake batter over closer as he scooped a ladle full on a freshly buttered side of the flat top, making sure it set first, Danny heard a beep from the frier, heading over he paused to see French fries in there as well.

Shaking his head, he dunked them all into the oil, and moved to set the timer only to see it already clicking down, "Oh um...thank you very much." Patting the deep frier, Danny moved back to the flat top as it let out a gurgling purr.

---

Tim took all of five seconds after Danny rounded the corner into the back of the house to start whispering

"Wing, this place is mocking me. Apple apparition pie? Haunting Hashbrowns? Ethereal fucking eggs benedict." Hissing Tim shifted in his seat, "like I would get it if this place was ghost themed but it very clearly isnt! It is mocking me because I know this place doesn't exist!" Slamming a fist down on the counter, it very much thudded.

Sharing a look with Tim, Dick placed a hand on Tim's shoulder, "Buddy...I agree there is something up with this place but...I very much think it exists? Since we are kinda sitting here."

Dragging his hand down his face with a groan Tim leaned back in his seat, "I know and it is infuriating me..." Grabbing the coffee mug Tim looked at it with a not insignificant amount of distrust before taking a swig, pausing, than taking another, much slower sip, holding the mug with both hands as he lowered it down, staring at the dark liquid with a small glare.

"Red? You okay? Is that the bad coffee look ot oh shittake mushrooms that was poisoned look?" Dick said worryingly, looking to the cup of orange juice that was in front of him with suspicion.

"N-no...I" Tim's words cut off as he took a breath, "Just...tastes just like the kind Mom used to drink, came from this little town in Chile they passed through..." staring at the cup a little longer Tim shook his head, "They closed a few years back, the farmer that made it got killed by a drug cartel that wanted him to plant coca rather than coffee, it's just that this place should very much not have this."

There was a tension between the two vigilantes, Dick moving to speak before being cut off by Danny quickly coming out from the back.

"Order up! Got two pancakes for Mr. Nightwing, side of bacon and eggs and two waffles for Mr. Red Robin with some hasbrowns!" Setting each plate down in front of said vigilante, Danny gave them both a grin.

"And a side of Phantom fries for both of you on the house!"

After refilling the little bit missing out of Tim's cup, Danny seemed to be to there one second and back in the kitchen a moment later.

---

"Phantom fries?" Danny whispered to himself as he started to clean off the griddle, a grin on his face as he did, he might of left the hero business, but oh God was it funny, he wondered if other people got the same fun out of it.

Checking out on he customers through the small window to the front, Danny felt his core thrum at the sight of the two eating, it was a different kind of thrum that he got while protecting people, this one...this one gave him a full body shudder and cleared a fog in his mind he didn't even he had.

Shaking his head, Danny tried not to let the purr building in his chest out.

---

Screw the worries that Tim had, Dick was having the time of his life.

"We can't tell the others about this place Red...Little wing would try and place it in the Alley and B might try and buy it cus holy guacamole this shit is good..." Dick had dug in after Tim's wrist mounted computer had tested the food for any known poisons which said that there weren't any, but still went and saved a few samples for further analysis at the Cave.

Dick didn't know why but the pancakes tasted like those that Alfred made the first week he had been at the manor, he had gotten upset at Brcue and hid in the attic all day, but Alfred managed to lure him down with the promise of blueberries in his pancakes.

They were perfectly fluffy, butter soaked with that little edge around it that was crunchy, the berries were tart enough to battle the maple syrup and...it was just like how Dick remembered.

Shaking his head as he finished up his food, Dick threw a look over at Tim, who was hunched over his empty plate, holding his mug of coffee closer, at Dicks questioning look the teen spoke.

"We have to leave Wing something is just...off about this place, its...they taste like when my dad used to make breakfast after coming home from a dig...has to be brain waves or mind reading or..." Tim continued to ramble on, ideas flowing out of him like a water fall.

By the time that Danny went back to check on the two, they were gone.

[fastandcarlos]

Baby Sibling : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: whilst all his friends are having siblings, your son is keen for the two of you to start thinking about when he can have one too

Puzzled eyes looked to Max as your son refused to hold your hands as the two of you picked him up from school. It was routine for you both whenever Max was home, it had been since your son started school a little over a year ago, something you had done every single day together. 

Max shrugged back at you as his empty hand felt lost. His eyes glanced at your son who was a couple of steps ahead of you, scuffing his feet along the path. Neither of you quite knew what to say, it was unlike anything that you had ever seen from your son before.  

As you arrived home, your son immediately took himself into the living room where his toy box was. Max followed you into the kitchen as you took his bag to unpack and check for any letters or drawings. A huff came from Max as he took a seat, his head resting in his hands as he tried to piece together the pieces to figure out what was going on. 

“I don’t understand,” you sighed as you took a seat opposite Max. “His teacher didn’t say anything to make me think that something happened at school today.” 

“He was smiling until he saw us,” Max informed you. 

Your heart broke as you listened to Max, only to be interrupted by the sound of footsteps entering the room. Your son trudged in silently, picking up his water bottle that was on the side, turning his back to you both and drinking from it. 

“Evan, do you want to play a game?” Max offered, choosing one of his favourite things to do whenever his dad was home. “What about that board game you bought the other day?” 

Your son’s head shook as he took the bottle and headed back into the room. You both were sat in shock, mouths wide in disbelief at how distant Evan had suddenly become. 

“He’s quite sensitive, maybe he just needs a little bit of time,” you suggested, trying your best to reassure the two of you. 

“But we’re his parents, he should talk to us about anything,” Max despairingly sighed. 

Attempts were made by the two of you for most of the night but Evan gave you nothing. Whenever you struck up conversation you were met by short, snappy answers, or just the shake or nod of his head. 

As night arrived, Max was determined to unpick what was troubling your son, sitting down at the end of his bed after you’d tucked him in. You stayed in the room with them both, leaning against the doorframe and giving them both some space. There was a pause in the room once Max sat down, trying his best to figure out the right thing to say so that he didn’t worry Evan more. It took a moment, but eventually he cleared his throat. 

“Evan, you know if something, or someone, is upsetting you, mummy and I are here to help you, right?” Max asked him, keeping his eyes firmly on him. “We’re always here to help you, no matter what the problem is.” 

Evan nodded as Max spoke, shuffling slightly closer towards him. “I’m the only one at school who doesn’t have a brother or sister and people keep leaving me out of their conversations.” 

Max’s eyes flickered across to you to make sure that you were listening. “You’re feeling a little left out buddy? Are you saying that you want to have a little brother or sister?” 

Evan continued to nod back at Max, “I think it would be fun to have one.” 

A sigh of relief came from you, glad that it wasn’t anything worse that was troubling your son. It still upset you to know that he was being left out at school, but at least it was something that could be fixed. Most likely. 

“There’s a lot of reasons why people do, or don’t, have little brothers and sisters,” Max tried his best to explain to Evan. “It’s not always an easy thing for families to do.” 

“Is it tricky for you and mummy?” Evan enquired. 

Having another child was a subject that you and Max had barely even thought about. You were so busy, and Max’s schedule was insane, but with Evan nearing six, you didn’t want the gap between your children to be too big. 

“A little bit,” Max weakly smiled, not wanting to lie to your son. “Daddy works away a lot, don’t I? And mummy does a lot of caring for you, but hopefully one day it won’t be quite so difficult for us to potentially have a baby sibling for you buddy.” 

You weren’t entirely sure if Evan understood what Max was saying to him, but he nodded anyway. Max stood up and walked over to your son, pressing a relieved kiss to the top of his head as he began to say goodnight. 

“Can I do anything to help make it happen daddy?” Evan whimpered as Max stepped away from him, his hopeful eyes looking between you both. “If it’s tricky, then maybe I can help you and mummy.” 

“You just need to keep being awesome,” Max cheerfully told him, “that’s the only thing that me and mummy ever want from you, you’re already the best.” 

You went in to say goodnight to your son too before following Max out of the room. There was silence between you as you headed into your bedroom, both perching on your respective sides of the bed, giving yourselves a moment to debrief and take in the conversation that you’d just had. 

“Why do I feel guilty?” Max asked, breaking the silence. “It’s not up to anyone else but us when we have another child, but I hate that it’s leaving him feeling left out at school.” 

“Maybe it’s the shove that we need to do something about it,” you responded. 

Max’s body jumped, quickly turning to look at you. His smile was wide as he listened to you. “Are you saying you want to have another baby? I never thought you were keen on another with how much I’m away right now.” 

“I mean it would be tough,” you admitted, “but we’re not getting any younger, and I don’t want Evan being a single child forever. I think we’d be able to do it, it would be tough, but we’d smash it don’t you think?” 

“Absolutely, we’ve always been a great team,” Max reminded you, “and I can make sure that I’m home more often to help out too.” 

“Have we just agreed to a second baby right now?” 

“I think we might’ve done,” Max laughed, laying himself down and pulling you down with him. “Promise me that you’re not just saying this to please me, or to please Evan either.” 

“I promise, as long as you do as well.” 

Max nodded eagerly, leaning across and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Your body turned inwards so that you were resting in Max’s side, feeling his arm wrap around you to keep you nice and close, exactly where he wanted you. 

“Do you think there’s any harm in getting a bit of practice in now? We might need it,” Max whispered. 

“I’d say there’s no time like the present.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[papayacinnabun]

classmate!oscar x collegestudent!reader au 18+ mdni

classmate!oscar who watches you type your notes during lecture, wishing those hands were somewhere else. he tries but he can barely pay attention to what the professor is saying, he's just so mesmerized by how your tits fill out your shirt and strain against the fabric. he felt himself grow hard just looking at you as you bit down on your lip in frustration, trying to understand the material. 

classmate!oscar who approaches you after class, wondering if you need a study buddy for the next exam. you won’t admit it, but you had been sneaking glances at the handsome boy occasionally, conflicted on whether to talk to him or not. he seemed sweet enough, as well as wickedly smart. you agreed to his proposal, suggesting to meet in the library later that day. 

classmate!oscar who pushes you up against a bookshelf deep in the library, lips feverishly assaulting your neck. his hands roaming all over your body, pawing at your waist and grasping at your tits, trying to feel you in any way he could. he couldn’t take it anymore, you with your cute glasses and low cut top, practically teasing him as you recited physics theorems. you constantly did that thing with your lip again, drawing it between your teeth seductively whenever you got stuck on a particular problem. it drove him crazy, he wanted to taste you so badly he was no longer able to keep his hands to himself. 

classmate!oscar who only let you cum when you recited all your flashcards correctly, his tongue working over your clit in mind-numbing ways. naturally you couldn’t think straight, so whenever you got a question wrong he stopped sucking on your bud to send a harsh spank to your ass. you cry out, over-frustrated and begging him to let you cum. he resumes lapping at your wetness, a slick grin spread over his face at your begging. you finally get a few correct in a row and he picks up his pace, finally letting your orgasm take over. it’s not his fault he wants you to do well, is it?

classmate!oscar who had you laid out on the table of the private study room, thrusting into you at a speed that had you seeing stars, whispering in your ear what a good girl you were for taking his cock like this. you whine out, your sensitive pussy clenching around him as he urges you to be quiet, stuffing his fingers in your mouth. you clenched around his dick, holding onto the table tighter as he fucked you so deep his tip grazed your cervix at every stroke. your textbooks sat on the floor, long abandoned as you both eagerly chased your releases.

classmate!oscar who grins knowingly at you when you get an A on your exam. seems like those study sessions are working...

a/n - still on break but this is the type of motivation i need this semester...

have au ideas? send them in!

masterlist here

[drewsbraziliangf]

nothing to say when heaven falls | Drew Starkey x black!reader

summary: what can you do when the person that’s supposed to understand and be on your side chooses to doubt your fears?

Word count: 1388

a/n: not edited, we die like soldiers!!!!! pls let me know if you wish to be added to my taglist

"How can't you see how disrespectful this is to me, Drew?" You ask with a strained voice and teary eyes. "Everywhere you go she's looming like a shadow."

"She's my friend, what do you want me to do?" Exasperated, he asks.

"I don't know. Maybe tell her that your fiancé doesn't feel comfortable with her following you around, traveling abroad to see you or fuck, being all fucking touchy and handsy with you in public."

My throat was burning as the words slipped my mouth but I simply couldn't avoid it any longer. I am so tired of this whole situation and it has been going on for far too long. I just can't hold it back anymore.

"Can't exactly tell her what to do," he rolled his eyes this time.

"Really? Am I really asking for that much?" I look at the man in front of me with disbelief, "I just want to feel like I'm not invisible in my own goddamn relationship. She sees you more than I do and I am the one with a ring on my finger. How is this fair?" 

"Babe, listen, there's nothing going on between me and her. You have to believe me," he pleads as he runs his hands through his hair.

"You don't think I'm trying to believe you? I'm in the trenches everyday telling myself this over and over again, but how can I turn a blind eye to it when the first thing I see whenever I'm online is that you're both coincidently in the same city. For the millionth time."

I know that pulling this out in the open this way isn't the best option. But how could I keep bottling all of this up when it's causing such a heavy pain in my chest every time I see their names together?

It was always clear the perks of dating a public figure and I never backed out on it. Now seeing the man who asked me to spend the rest of my life with him and have his babies walking around with the woman everyone swears he was romantically involved with is messed up.

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” he admits as he walks away from me.

That felt like a punch. Because how could I make it anymore obvious? Do I have to draw it to a thirty year old why he should respect the woman he chose to propose to? 

“Are you for real right now?” I asked as I follow him into the kitchen of our shared apartment. “Did you really just said that to me, Joseph?”

At this point it felt like there was no going back anymore, either this was going to be totally fixed here or it wouldn’t at all. The bandaid was ripped and the wound was open and burning.

“How can you be so dull? You really can’t see what the problem here is?” 

I watch as he fills a glass with water and turns his back to me. He did it twice already. The off white walls of the kitchen lacked the warm they always brought when we were in it together. It felt claustrophobic and like the roof was going to fall over our heads at any given minute.

“You’re acting like I’m cheating on you. Like this is some major fuck up. It isn’t, you’re turning it into something it isn’t.” His tone was cold but looking at his posture it was clear that he was trying to maintain his calm.

The condescending tone in his voice made me want to shrink into myself and hide away from the world.

“Oh, right. Yeah, blame it on me for thinking that my fiancé going out of his way to be with his ex fuck buddy isn’t normal.”

“Careful,” he warns once finally looks at me.

“Or what, Drew? What else could you possibly do that will make me feel worse than I already do?” I challenge, my gaze locked on him as I wait.

After a few minutes of us staring down at each other, he shakes his head and sighs. 

“I’m not doing whatever this is. I’m done entertaining this,” he declares and he leans against the countertop.

Drew and I met around two years ago through a mutual friend. We instantly hit off and after a few dates, he officially asked me to be his girlfriend - which I obviously accepted. We had this instant connection that isn’t common. At first I was terrified of it, I knew who he was and the fact that his life was always being scrutinized by thousands of people. I knew what people said online about him and as we got closer and closer I couldn’t help but lose myself in the speculations about him even more.

Our relationship was great and we always made sure that each others boundaries were respected, so color me stoked to be in this situation right now. I am not dumb and every single day there is a needle pinching me making me think of stuff and situations like the one we find ourselves right now just indulge those thoughts.

In the early days of our relationship we made sure there were no secrets between us and past relationships. I knew I was his first black girlfriend, I knew he was born and raised in the South too. So joining that and the fact that I am an immigrant did make me scared of a lot of things, the main of them being the fact that it isn’t uncommon at all for men to always find their way back to that they are used to. 

So seeing her upon him all the time while people online barely know about our relationship feels like hell. Because even though I’m in family pictures that his sisters post online, and the very visible ring on my finger I am never considered the option of being his significant other. She is. Every single time. And he never did anything about it - hell, he never even set boundaries with her and she knows that we’re together. Am I really reading too much into things? 

Being three months away from our wedding day, this isn’t the kind of thought or conversations I would like to be having. I should be fucking excited and dress hunting, but lately the only thing that I feel like doing is swallowing lumps and holding back tears, faking smiles and pretending I’m fine. I’m not, I’m fucking falling apart and I’m so tired of begging to be seen. 

“I don’t know how else to tell you that I am not comfortable with this and that you shouldn’t be either,” I point out as the first tear cross the edges of my cheeks. “I don’t know how else to ask you to respect our relationship.”

“I respect our relationship, I always did. I just don’t think that what you’re saying right now makes any sense. Whatever I had with her in the past is over.” He says as he runs one of his hands through his face.

“Drew, honey, you’re not seeing things from my point of view. Imagine if it was me catching planes every other day to be with someone that I was involved in with in the past. And all of our friends know that you and I are together. How would that make you feel?”

At that he says nothing but silence can mean many things, and in this case it means consent. 

Tired of this back in forth conversation, I reach for my phone that was besides his on the counter and as if the timing couldn’t be more right, the screen of his phone lights up with an incoming call. No surprise flashes through my features as I see the picture on the caller id, both of them in a mirror picture as they brush their teeth.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I confess watching as he reaches for his phone quickly declining the call. “Not when you’re up to your eyeballs into whatever this is. I’ll make the calls tomorrow and cancel the dates with the venue.”

I grab my phone and my purse and I walk towards the front door before he can say anything else, I’m closing it behind me. 

[wall-eye]

Thank you all 42 people who agree with me, i knew yall would but i had to check anyway. God. I hate working with Republicans, they have such weird morals.

"Im going to use this thing that screws over other creative workers, and will lead to them and anyone sympathetic to them to not buy my book, to make the most money off my creative work." What a good plan. Very solid, def not going to limit who is willing to work with you in the future at all.

"it's not theft its cheap" <- actual words what he said. Why do you want your book to seem cheap. No one will want to spend money on something that seems cheap

Game = ttrpg

[eevees-hobbies]

Don't Threaten Me With a Good Time!

This is a response to this anon request: Hii can i request wind breaker boys : bofurin and shishitoren with a reader that love to flirt and hard to flustered although they tried to do it back? Thank you

Author’s Note: Thank you, Anon, for being my first Wind Breaker request! I feel like we were on the same wavelength because I was planning on doing a flirt fic/headcanon, but you beat me to it! Unshy and bold is how I like to write my readers, too!

Content Warning: Fem!Reader x Characters. Not smut but highly suggestive in some parts. Use of the word slut in the beginning background piece, a brief examination of the word and scenarios in which it’s weaponized. If you’re not into that, feel free to skip that part. But I’ve seen what some of you all are into and seen some of those reblogs—you know who you are, so spare me. You’re also a major flirt. Like, you’re at a 10 on the flirt scale. Go, you! Nothing too explicit, but here’s what we’re working with: mention of panties in Sakura’s. Kaji needs to learn to keep items inside of his mouth…unless? Suo intends to punish you so pick a god and pray. Hiragi needs you to chill out…but say more, please. Umemiya is too shy to ask you to call him Daddy (please call him Daddy). Togame tells you what you’ll be sitting on by the end of the night (also mention of alcohol in his). Nirei is a cute little bean <3. Minors Don’t Interact.

As always, I appreciate comments, reblogs, and likes. Requests are as open as my legs are for Haruka Sakura’s dick.

Word Count: 2.8K

Dividers by Saradika. Story banner by me.

Background: How You Got Here

You’ve always hated the word ‘slut’

It’s not that you wouldn’t personally consider yourself one. Depending on your ideologies, reclaiming the word can feel liberating and you find that to be true for yourself. 

You consider yourself to be naturally flirty, sexy, bold, and charismatic. You can also be a bit of a tease and have slut-like-tendancies in the bedroom, so, sure, a slut. And for the right person or people, if you’re feelin’ nasty, you’re willing to be whatever they want you to be. 

You’ve just grown to hate the word because slut is often used to mischaracterize a woman that men often can’t understand. 

They can’t, or choose not to, understand a woman who is vocal about who she wants and how she wants it. 

They call women sluts who do the chasing.

They call women sluts who fuck on the first date. 

They call women sluts who don’t fuck on the first date. 

The word slut has lost all meaning.

Patriarchy issues aside, this wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t also have a mouth on you. So when some low-life-loser cat calls you from across the street, asking if you got a man and then calling you a slut because you chose not to answer in front of his five loser friends, you turn around and yell, “Sorry, buddy! Experiencing disappointing sexual experiences isn’t on my bingo card for tonight!”

“What the FUCK did you just say to me?”

And contrary to what some may say, you aren’t fucking stupid. You know what happens to women when a man hates them and decides that you’re the object of their rage.

So, you often find yourself running in situations like this. Running until your lungs are about to explode and the only thing keeping you going is adrenaline and the fear that that word—and your mouth—might get you snuffed out. 

You’re looking over your shoulder as your assailants close the distance, painfully aware that this can’t go on for too much longer when you collide with someone’s chest. Strong hands grip your arms, anchoring you in place. 

You look up, expecting to see one of the men from the group but you’re instead taken aback by the stranger in front of you. He seems like the kind of boy you’d let call you a slut—-his close-mouthed smile disarms you, and even though it doesn’t reach his eyes, you’re almost certain he’s someone you can trust. You don’t have too many options right now, anyway!

His tassel earrings swing as he raises his head from looking down at you, and his eyes follow the sound of running feet emerging from the alley. 

“Oh? You look like you could use some help. Stand over there for me?” He tilts his head when asking you the question, but part of you feels like he’s not really asking, so you nod and watch with bated breath as the young man methodically mows down every one of the men. 

Afterward, he turns to you, pristine and perfect, “I can’t let you walk home alone after that.”

“Sure,” you say, taking his outstretched hand. What’s your name? I have to know the name of the person who just saved me.”

“Oh, I guess that’s a fair point. My name is Hayato Suo. It’s nice to meet you despite the circumstances.”

It’s not long after that event that you fall into the protection of the Bofurin & Shishitoren men; your natural charisma quickly gets you in their good graces and earns you a special spot among their ranks. You give off mascot vibes—if mascots were cute and didn’t have gigantic, scary bodies!

Hanging out with them means being yourself without experiencing judgment or retribution. Your laid-back persona and flirting are met with laughs, blushes, and even sometimes flirtation in return. You’ve never felt more at home than with them. 

Haruka Sakura

Flirting with Haruka Sakura is like flirting with a brick wall; either he notices and chooses to ignore the situation as his face turns a crimson red, or he’ll yell at you for being a pervert in public. And both of those reactions are equally cute, so when one day you’re sitting at a booth at Cafe Pothos—-with Sakura, Suo & Nirei—-you decide that this is the perfect environment to get him riled up.

You gently knock your shoe against Sakura’s, which earns you an eyebrow twitch as he continues to shovel food into his mouth. Oblivious as always. 

You do it again to prove that it wasn’t an accidental nudge. Sakura’s eyes shoot up to yours, frantic because this is something you would do. His eyes are met with your innocent smile and subtle shoulder shrug.

As you all continue eating (excluding Suo, who enjoys a cup of tea), you gradually move your foot up his leg until it rests between his thighs. Sakura is trembling like a leaf, eyes darting between the faces of your friends, who could very well notice that you’re trying to get him to play footsie under the table. What if they notice? 

The meal concludes; Suo and Nirei exit the restaurant, and you and Sakura linger for a bit. Part of you hopes that he’ll call out your behavior, but he’s doing his best eye-avoidant routine. As you rise to leave, Sakura stops you, grabbing you by the hem of your sleeve and pushing you into the last booth at the back of the restaurant, where the line of sight is blocked.

Sakura climbs on top of you, your bodies crammed into the leather booths in a way that feels deliciously intimate. His hands are holding your arms at your sides, and his knee settles in between your thighs—and you are now more than ever painfully aware of how high your skirt has bunched up as his knee is dangerously close to brushing up against the seat of your panties. 

“Y-you can’t control yourself in public, can you!?” Sakura practically spits out. He’d sound angry to anyone else, but that’s not what you see in his eyes. 

You look up at him, mesmerized by his vulnerability and the proximity of his well-placed knee. "Do you want me to stop, Haruka?”

He again avoids eye contact with you, but the way he bites his lip gives him away, “No, I-i didn’t say that.”

Akihiko Nirei 

“Have you added anyone else to that book of yours, Nirei?”

Nirei beams at you. You’re one of the few people who takes an interest in the compendium of facts and stats he’s collected about the others. He flips through the pages and starts pointing out information he’s added since you’ve last spoken.

You nod along, taking a genuine interest in what he says; you barely notice your hand moving up to brush away a strand of hair that had fallen out of place. His cheeks tinge pink, and he stutters as he continues to read to you.

After he’s done hyper-fixating, a comfortable silence sits between you.

“What do you have about me?” you say, leaning closer to him. You’re teasing him; you don’t exchange blows like the subjects in his journals, so there’s no practical reason for him to collect information on you. That’s what you think until he reaches into his back pocket and brandishes a small notebook with your name on the front. 

“I-i uh have the basic demographics, but uh…still need the more personal things like your favorite color and food.”

“What about my bra size?”

“B-bra….” The pencil in his hand snaps, and he looks everywhere but at you. “I uh… s-sure! I’ll take that if you’d like me to!”

You laugh; you genuinely find him endearing. “I’m kidding! We haven’t even had our first date yet, Nirei!”

He looks at you, pulling out a new pencil from seemingly nowhere. “Well, once I find out what food you like, I’ll add the anniversary date of our first date here, too.”

Ren Kaji

Flirting with Kaji feels dangerous, but you do you, friend. You, as an individual, and the way compliments flow easily from your lips makes Kaji uncomfortable, and he admittedly doesn’t understand why someone as gorgeous as you gives him the time of day. It isn’t until you somehow become closer that the absence of your flirting with him sets off blaring alarm bells. 

Are you ok? 

Who did this to you?  

Who does he have to kill?!

As you thumb through the vinyl at your local record store, you feel a bump against your shoulder. You look up and see your favorite platinum blond guard dog; his headphones are settled around his neck, heavy metal pouring from the earphones. His piercing gaze is a clear indication that you might be in trouble. Oops. 

“You mad at me or somethin’?”

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Mad? Why do you think that?”

“You haven’t been pestering me lately, and it feels…odd.”

You can see him chewing on the inside of his cheek, even with the round sucker placed snugly in his mouth. 

“Ohhhhhh, no, Kaji! I was giving you a break, but if you insist on flirting, how about-”

“Shut up,” he pulls the sucker out of his mouth and presses it against your lips, watching as you purse your glossed lips and kiss the candy. Neither of you breaks eye contact; an unspoken threat between you dares the other to yield first. His eyes narrow as you poke your tongue out and stroke the sides with intentional, slow licks.

“Tch!” he turns quickly, marching away from you. Despite his back being turned, you can tell by the way his arm raises that he’s now placing that saliva-soaked sucker in his mouth. 

Hayato Suo 

Suo might be one of two people on this list who might be a worthy opponent for you. How do you flirt with someone who is perpetually unbothered? Good question! I see your flirting as back-and-forth quips, playful jabs at one another that get increasingly sexual and oddly specific throughout the day.

If you meet up with the group and one strand of your hair is out of place, Suo chirps, “Bedhead, huh? What were YOU doing last night?”

If you see Suo break a sweat after an intense fight, “Wow, Suo! You really need to work on your stamina. I can imagine a few ways to help with that.”

Sure, it’s all in good fun, but there’s a sexual undertone to it all; between the smiles and sarcastic comments, you’re both participating in your special version of foreplay, and you have never been more turned on. 

Everyone around you thinks you should get a room, and as sunset approaches, you two do exactly that.

“Ready to work on that stamina, Suo?” you chide as you push him against the wall in your apartment. You know you’ll pay for man-handling him later, but that’s part of the fun, isn’t it?

His earrings sway back and forth from the force, but he gazes down at you with smoldering ruby-toned eyes. Every smart-mouthed remark you’ve said that day replays in his head, contributing to his desire to make you atone for your brattiness.

“Yes, Y/N and I promise I won’t let you out of bed with your hair a mess like I did this morning.”

Hajime Umemiya

The complexity of Hajime Umemiya should be a case study. You’ve witnessed his laid-back nature as he jokes with friends, and you’ve seen the scary side of him that bubbles over when anyone threatens those he’s closest to. 

You’re truly attracted to both sides, but when it comes to you and the way you tease him, running manicured nails through his gelled hair and scratching gently at his scalp, he’s putty in your hands.

One of your favorite ways to experience Umemiya is meeting him in his element: his garden. It allows you to bond with him, and he often shares information about his life. Somewhere, Sugishita is biting his fist. 

“Big brother,” you whine as you plant okra, “am I doing this right?”

Umemiya’s eyes widen, and he looks at you across the garden. In what feels like seconds, he’s kneeling in front of you, your hands cupped in his own. “Y-you can’t call me that!”

You blink, confused, “you tell everyone to call you that.”

“I don’t want YOU to call me that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s weird when someone you…like…calls you big brother. It’s worse than being called a friend!”

You snort, but when you meet his eyes, you quickly straighten. Oh! He’s serious! 

“So, not into me calling you big brother even during our ‘private moments?’ What about ‘Daddy?’ How do you feel about that?”

He laughs loudly—not because he thinks that was especially hilarious—but because you just make him nervous. 

“You can call me Hajime or…’my boyfriend?’ Yeah, let's stick with my boyfriend!”

“Not Daddy?”

“I won’t stop you! Now, how about that okra???”

Toma Hiragi

“You’re a pain in my ass.”

Hiragi’s simultaneously rubbing a knot out of his neck while chastising you. You found yourself in an all too familiar situation, running errands when a drunken man approached you and began to hurl “that word” in your direction when he didn’t find your reaction to his advances to be appropriate: same shit, different day.

As you were looking for an escape route, Hiragi rounded the corner and snatched the man by the collar—it was almost comical to see the drunkard's feet dangle feverishly off the ground. With a scowl and a threat from Hiragi, he was stumbling off.

You sigh, “I don’t mean to be a burden, Hiragi. But something on my forehead must read, ‘fuck with me’ because this is becoming a common occurrence.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he grumbles, “I just find myself worrying about you too much. Might give you my jacket to keep these creeps at bay.” 

Before the last syllable leaves his lips, he’s stuttering and trying to walk the statement back, “I mean uh…or any Bofurin jacket! We have boxes of these somewhere! Not mine, per se.”

You smile, placing a hand on his toned bicep. “I’d love to wear my protector's jacket.”

You need not say more. He removes his oversized jacket and places it over your shoulders. The smell of him and the warmth he left behind makes your heart flutter. You give him your best grin, “you know you’re never getting this back, right?”

“See? A pain in my ass. With a mouth like that, I’m goin’ to have to teach you how to fight.” 

You lean into his arm, “With a mouth like this, you might have to teach me more than how to fight.”

“Jesus.”

Jo Togame 

Jo Togame is the other person on this list who’ll give you a run for your money when trying to flirt. He may seem turtle-adjacent, but his rebuttals to your flirtation attempts are quick. 

You’ve been shooting Togame smoldering glances for the entirety of the night, and even though Shishitoren men surround him, he’ll catch you looking, give you a lopsided grin, and then turn his attention back to the group,

You lick your lips. The draw of his signature sweatpants, black, loose-fitting tee, and Shishitoren jacket is doing something to you. 

And maybe it’s because you’re on your fifth shot of mystery concoction, and the music they’re playing at the house party makes you feel bold and think that what you’re about to do is a good idea. 

With all the courage you can muster, you walk up to Togame. He tilts his head in your direction, but you can see amusement in his jade-colored eyes.

“Took you long enough. Thought you were never gonna get tired of starin’ at me.”

“Dance with me!” you yell over the music. You can feel everyone in the group sizing you up and waiting to hear how Togame responds. 

He puts his beer down and takes your hand. You pull him to the center of the room, where a makeshift dance floor has been constructed. You allow the music to move you before you can talk yourself out of whatever is happening. Togame puts his hand on your waist and allows you to grind against him and to the beat. 

“You like the idea of making me nervous, huh?”

You stand on the tips of your toes to get as close to his ear as possible, “You caught me! Is it working?”

He chuckles and shakes his head, “No because I know exactly how this night is going to end.”

Your heart picks up a bit as his hands slide down from your waist and rest above your ass.

“How?” You squeak.

“With you grinding just like this on my dick.”

You open your mouth to respond, but he presses his lips against yours, his kiss hot and hungry. 

Your eyes flutter closed, and you agree that this night will likely end how he prophesized.

[zyafics]

PLAY FAKE | 02

MASTERLIST (Series)

Pairing — Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs.

You didn't want to ask Rafe for help.

You never like doing it in general. The concept is foreign to you and it makes your skin crawl with a sense of dread, but you were desperate.

He hasn't come back to your bar in a while; probably off finding a new replacement for a fake girlfriend. Before, you hadn't given it much thought. You did decline. However, now, you wish he hadn't found one yet. Now, the offer sounds appetizing given the situation you're in.

You need to get in contact with him. You knew that showing up to the Tannyhill estate would raise questions but you didn't know where he would be. An idea suddenly popped up in your head and you decided to scroll through social media and find the nearest Kook party. You found one, just uploaded fifteen minutes ago, at Topper's house.

Parking in the street, you stare at the party in full swing. It has been a while since you've been to a party—too focused on working full-time at Sailor and taking care of your siblings—and the idea of going in unnerves you. You were still in uniform, well, it's something you try to wear everyday to get tips. A simple black crop top and a mini skirt. You find it ironic that you were at least dressed for the part.

Leveling some confidence, you push open the creaky door of your old car and head inside. It is absolutely crowded with people, with girls and guys drinking and dancing outside in the yard, near the pool, on the porch. Your eyes glaze over every single one of them, trying to find the one person you hope would be here.

You find Rafe near the back porch of the mansion. He's with a couple of his buddies, Topper being among them, and a girl on his arm as he holds a beer with the same hand. You weren't surprised in the slightest. This was his plan after all. You were just surprised by the feeling in your stomach.

The lick of jealousy you didn't understand where it came from.

You step up. His friends were the first to notice you, scanning over your body that you wish you had worn a jacket over yourself. When you are just in front of him, his gaze finally focuses and meets your gaze.

"Can we talk?" You ask, sparing no attention to the girl on him.

He scoffs, "fuck off."

Of course he's going to be an asshole. You didn't bother with entertaining his comment by grabbing his arm, pulling him up. You knew you didn't have the strength to take him completely so you were pleasantly surprised when he assisted and got up. He even pushed the girl to the side as you dragged him off to somewhere quiet.

Well, as quiet as the live party can be.

"What do you want?"

His words are sharp and harsh, but you expected nothing less. You figured something happened—that's why he entertains his vices, right?—and plus, you told him that you wanted nothing to do with him. If anything, he has a bit of justification to be pissed.

But that doesn't mean you would accept it.

"I was going to talk to you about your offer, but seeing as you're being too much of an ass, I guess I should come back another time," you snap, turning around to head out because fuck him. You weren't going to take it. You had other things to do. You would be forgiving, perhaps, if he actually talked to you about his problem but to be a dick off the bat? Not a chance in hell.

"Wait," he grabs your arm before you move far and this contrasts the strength you hold. One hand and a lazy attempt to hold you in place. "What do you want?"

He said that somewhat nicer.

You turn back with a glare, contemplating what to do, before remembering what's at stake. You're already here. Might as well get it over with.

"I'll do it." You say, your voice coming out smaller than you intended. It’s so embarrassing to ask for help. It feels even more so to backtrack into something you said you couldn't—wouldn't—do. "Be your fake girlfriend, I mean."

The corner of his lips quirks into an amused smile. Even in his drunk state, where his blond hair is darkened from the humidity of the space and his eyes glossed over, you can't help but admit how attractive he is. "Couldn't stay away, could you?"

"I'm not trying to be the next Mrs. Cameron," you snap, feeling the need to clarify. "But, I do need the payout."

His eyes narrow. "Thought you didn't want it?"

"I don't," you answer. "It's something else."

He tilts his head to the side, studying you. "What?"

Sighing, you wished you could talk somewhere more private. But, this truly is the best place you can get him. "When you get your father's company and start doing all the Kook bullshit of hosting charity events, galas, and dinners, I want you to use Sailor as your drink caterer."

It sounded like a good deal when you thought of it. You didn't want the money because you don't know how long this little facade is going to last. You needed something stable. You need something that would benefit you in the long-run. Since Sailor has been slipping off the profit margins and you've been dealing with some trouble regarding its ownership, you figured the business from all the catering would boost it up. It would give you status and credit. It would benefit you long after this engagement with Rafe ends.

His eyes look thoughtful of the idea. You wonder how he's calculating, how he's weighing the options about whether to accept your negotiation or to decline—telling you he already found a replacement. You hope it wasn't the latter. You needed this.

"No."

You clench your jaw. Of course. The one time you sought out help, instead of cleaning up the mess yourself, you got shut down. It's embarrassing.

"Fine." You say, ripping your arm out of his grasp and heading straight to the exit. You want to leave as soon as possible and use the time you should've spent going here to actually come up with a solution. It was a wasted effort on your end. You make a mental note of that.

Just a few steps short of the exit, some guy nearby grabs your arm and holds you in place. "Where you going, pretty?" He slurs his words, his eyes cascading down your body that you wished you pulled down the length of your skirt. "I didn't get the chance to talk to you."

You try to rip your arm off of his but his grip is firm. "Leave me alone."

"Come on, pretty," he gets closer, his intoxication reeking from his breath that you had to turn your head to avoid the smell. "I can make you feel real good."

Your hand clenched by your side while the other places a palm directly on his chest, trying to place some distance between you and the stranger before you commit to your next move. "If you don’t leave me alone—"

It happened in a flash. One minute he's holding you, the second he's getting knocked back with a punch delivered straight on the mouth.

You look up to see Rafe, his knuckles clenched and redden while the beer he was cradling had dropped on the ground into a million broken pieces. His breathing heavy while his eyes are a little distant, lagged out.

"Rafe," you call out, but before he gets the chance to face you, the drunk stranger comes staggering back with a punch in return. The crowd gasps and quickly moves out of the way as a circle forms, Rafe and the man trading swings.

No one is helping them. No one is attempting to. Rafe is significantly more drunk than the stranger, his footing is slightly off, and the drunkard is getting in more decks on Rafe's face.

When Rafe tries to duck from a delivery, the guy does directly to his stomach and it causes him to topple over with a grunt.

Having enough, you step forward and grab the stranger's shoulder. He turns around with a look of confusion—just in time for you to deck him as hard as your hand can swing, right in the face.

"Shit!" You swear under your breath, the blow rippling back and returning straight to your fist, aching.

The stranger staggers back, his back hitting the floor while you grab Rafe. You don't know where you're going, you don't know the layout of this house, but pushing through the crowd, you find an empty bedroom and slam the door close with a lock.

Thankfully, it had a bathroom attached to it. You set Rafe on the mattress as you flick the lights on and search for the cabinets for any aid. Rafe's bottom lip is busted, there's a cut on one of his brows, and bruising forming against his jawline. You don't even want to think about the mess on his knuckles.

Finding a first aid kit, you step back to see Rafe laid out against the mattress, his eyes closed. You rush to his side, afraid he has a concussion and he's falling asleep.

"Rafe!" You shout, hitting his cheeks with the back of your hand in light taps, causing his eyes to flutter open. "You can't do that."

Willing himself back to a sitting position with your assistance, you set the first aid kit to the side as you attempt to help him. Using your hands to cradle his face, you assess the damages.

"Where'd you learn to punch like that?" He asks, the heat of his gaze follows you as you remove your touch.

You shrug. "You need to learn two things growing up in The Cut," you hold up a finger, "how to deliver a good right hook,"

You pause for a moment.

Impatiently, he prompts. "And?"

You hold up his gold signet ring and his watch. "How to take advantage of a drunk."

He scoffs, snatching his things out of your grasp as you laugh, releasing some tension in your shoulders. "Pogue." He sneers.

"Kook." You retort, but there's a lightness in your tone.

Rafe says nothing as you return to your search through the aid kit. When you find what you were looking for, you start on his face, first cleaning the cut around his brow.

He hisses at the sting, but allows you to continue. It was an awkward position to be in, sitting beside him as you try to clean the damage, and he must've noticed how irritated you were getting with his constant shifts away from the pain. Without a word, he grabs your waist and pulls you into his lap with one swoop, both legs on either side of his waist as his hands settle on the small of your back.

"Better?" He questions, raising a brow.

You don't say anything, attempting to adjust your skirt rising up to your hips, before you nod.

Cleaning the wound, you tilt your head to examine what your next step should be. It's hard to figure out because the bruise is slowly forming and while the cut may be small right now, it's going to be nasty tomorrow.

To ease some tension of the silence, you prompt with a conversation. "You got into another fight with your dad?"

He stiffens under you, clenching his jaw. "What makes you say that?"

You feel his eyes trained on your face, but you refuse to acknowledge it. "Because you're out here getting drunk instead of getting wasted at my bar."

Rafe smirks. "Miss me?"

"No, it was good for business." You say, matter-of-fact, and the look on his face dies off. You feel guilty. Adding on, you rectify, "and, you would've had someone to talk to. I don't think the people around here are offering that."

He says nothing, watching you work. You exchanged the bloodied pads for some ointment.

"It's just about Sarah again." He mutters, almost like he didn't want you to hear but knowing you would. "Same shit. Same golden child."

You nod, finally flicking your gaze down to his. His blue eyes are so prominent now, so clear, you wonder if you could get lost in them.

Rafe doesn't disclose any details like he normally does. When he goes on long tangents about the problem. It must've been bad. So, you lower your hand and cup his face, tilting his face to meet yours. "Want to talk about it?"

He swallows hard. "I don't want to talk."

"What do you want to do?"

"Fuck." He answers without a thought, the ability to shift into a fuck-mode is easier than digesting his feelings. You laugh, inappropriately, dropping your hand from his cheeks. You're about to push yourself off his lap—having bandaged him up—and let him go find his next hookup, but his grip on your waist tightens.

He doesn't say anything with that move, and you tilt your head at him.

"I thought I was below your level?" You tease.

"Yet, you're sitting on my dick right now," he says, eyes following yours. "What do you think that means?"

While you're not directly on him, you can feel his hard-on swelling under his pants, lightly grazing against your core, and causing a small ache between your legs.

"That you're horny enough to go for a Pogue."

He scoffs, lowering his hands to your ass and palms the flesh. Your eyes flutter close at the moment. "Who knew you were hiding such a nice body behind that counter?"

"You just haven't been paying attention."

"I am now."

His hands lowering to your hips, slowly pulling you down his lap, realigning your cunt until it sits directly on top of his zipper. He leans forward, his hot mouth against your ear. "If I tell you to grind on me, would you do it?"

You place a hand on his chest, trying to ease some space between the two of you, but your attempt was weak. Some part of you didn't want to leave.

"You're pushing it."

"What if I told you it would make me feel better?" He whispers, his fingers trailing up your skirt, against your bare thighs, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "That you can consider it part of your deal."

Your breath hitch in surprise. "You're saying yes?"

"I was going to," he pulls back to meet your face, "but you ran away."

"You said no to me," you remind him.

"To rile you up," he says, like an asshole, and you scoff. "Didn't think you would just leave like that."

"Maybe you should give me clear answers then."

"Fine," his breath is right in front of yours. "I want you to ride me."

Your eyes trail his face, your hands finding his shoulders. You know you shouldn't. You know if this is supposed to be fake, why do you feel a deep, carnal urge for him. If this happens, it opens the door to other things. But, something in you softens. He did get a bruise for you. He did defend you. He's in pain and you're in need.

Maybe you could use each other.

Slowly, your hips roll against his. The look on his face hints at surprise that you took the bait and causes you to smirk, gripping his shoulders harder when you find the hard cock lined against your panties. You press down.

"Fuck," he groans raspily, "just like that."

The praise lights something in you. "Like that?" You repeat, pushing yourself against his jeans, rubbing up and down, that you can feel him grow harder and harder against the seams of his pants. He nods shakily. "Is it making you feel better, baby?"

He knows you're taunting him, using his words, but he fucking loves it. You're listening. For once, you're not actively trying to spite him and knock back—but willing, to him.

"That's right," he compliments, his gaze following your body as you are starting to find a rhythm against him. Your movements are getting sloppier. "Just what I need. A Pogue who listens to whatever I fucking say."

You nod vigorously, feeling your wetness growing against your panties, drenching the material enough to leak through and rub off against the front of his pants.

"God, look at you," he muses in your ear, glancing down, and a chuckle leaves his throat. "You made such a mess."

"Feel so good," you moan, you tip your head back as the friction of his jeans feels incredibly perfect against your swollen clit.

"Come on, sweetheart," his grip around your waist tightens, afraid with the way you're moving, you're going to fall off. "Ride me."

You follow his direction, quickening your pace as low groans and rasps leaves his lips at the sensation you're making him feel. The sound is like drugs to you, fueling you, because you want to desperately help him arrive at his own climax.

You wrap both your arms around his neck, grinding ruthlessly against his lap. Leaning forward, you dip your face into the crook of his neck. "Come on, Rafe," you whisper into his ear, closing into your own orgasm. "Come for me."

As you came with a moan, your movements didn't stop. Your legs ache, begging to stop, but you want him to get there too.

"Fuck, fuck," he moans at your aggression, at how hard you're pressed against him, moving against him, it's a mesmerizing sight. "I'm coming."

You feel it against your core. The subtle twitch of his dick under the jeans. The faint wetness under you, mixed with your own cum, produces a small smile against your lips.

You slow your grind, pulling back, just to meet his eyes clearing from their post-orgasmic haze, and his grip has weakened significantly around your body. When you stop completely, you push yourself off of him, finding your feet on solid ground with wobbly legs.

"Better?" You tease, to which he nods weakly through heavy-lids. With a satisfied smile, you turn around and head for the door.

"I'll see you on our first date." 

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Navigation — Part 01 | Part 02 | Part 03

[casdeans-pie]

Dean's ribs are aching.

He presses a hand against his skin, feeling the solid bones under his palm, and tries to imagine the ornate carvings running across them - remembers what the x-ray looked like. But his mind keeps getting stuck on the feeling of Cas's hand, strong and sturdy, in the center of his chest, and the pleasant burn that'd taken his breath away when he'd pressed into him.

A sensation that had been perfectly balanced on the knife-edge of pain and pleasure.

Dean lets out a shaky breath and tugs the scratchy motel sheets closer as he turns over, unable to stop being so aware of it all. A particularly loud snore from the bed next to him tells him that Sam isn't having the same problem.

It only takes another few minutes of Dean gritting his teeth and willing himself to go to sleep before he gives up with an angry sigh.

When he exits the room quietly, hoping to get some air and clear his head, he nearly walks straight into Castiel himself. "Jesus, Cas!" Dean yelps, then catches his volume, glances at the room behind him, and adds in a hissed whisper, "What are you doing here?"

Cas, for once, looks startled and a little guilty. "Hello, Dean," he says, voice rumbling quietly, "my apologies, I didn't expect anyone to leave the room until the morning."

"Yeah, that doesn't really answer my question, buddy. You were kind of loitering."

Cas shifts his weight a little in a nervous gesture that amuses Dean because it looks almost human. "I've been informed that watching over you while you sleep from your bedside is" - he squints his eyes - "creepy."

Dean can't help the huff of a laugh that escapes him. "'Cause it is."

Cas frowns. "And I can no longer sense either of you due to your sigils, so..."

(Dean presses his hand to his chest, echoes of the pleasure-pain running through his ribs.)

Cas's eyes flick down at the movement, but snap back up before Dean can put a name to the expression that passes over Cas's face. "So I have been watching over you... both of you... from outside your room instead. While I still know your current location," he adds sadly.

"Keeping tabs on us like this is still creepy Cas," Dean says, but there's no heat in it. In fact, he's surprised to realise that he really doesn't mind the idea of Cas watching over him- them.

"I can no longer sense you," Cas repeats, more upset this time.

A blue neon sign for the motel shines from above them, casting a moody blue light over Cas - catching the tips of his messy hair, and lighting up his eyes so that they're almost glowing. He's lit up in a way that reminds Dean of the Angel he really is, and it makes his ribs ache.

Dean grips the shirt over his chest in a tight fist.

Again Cas's gaze flicks down.

"What do they say?" Dean says so quietly it's nearly just a breath.

Cas must understand what Dean means, even though what he said makes no sense, because he replies, "It means you are to be kept away from all the eyes of the Angels, and none have permission to know of your location or gaze upon you." Cas reaches a hand up, suspends it in the air, and then lets it fall back to his side.

Dean feels a pulse race through his bones as he impulsively reaches for Cas's hand and places it on his chest, covering it with his own and pressing it down firmly. Warmth that feels like protection and safety rushes out from where their hands press together.

"I give you my permission," Dean says quietly, into this moment they've created, under the unnatural blue light of the motel sign, and the silent night around them.

Cas's eyes are wide and Dean feels his hand shaking. "You..." he visibly swallows and licks his lips. "You shouldn't say things like that to an Angel, Dean."

"Yeah? Well, too late. I mean it Cas. You've got my permission. And I know that means jack to symbols literally carved onto my bones, but it means you physically checking in with me if you want to know where we are - use your cellphone - and if I text you our motel room, and you're not, y’know, doing rebel Angel stuff, you can be our lookout." Dean feels silly all of a sudden and drops Cas's hand, stuffing his own into the pockets of the sweatpants he shoved on before he left the room. "And if I can't sleep, maybe we can talk outside again like tonight. Or whatever."

After a beat of pure silence the light on Cas's face from the sign seems to intensify and Dean can suddenly hear it buzzing.

The handprint on his shoulder pulses in time with the beat of his heart and the ache in his ribs.

"I would like that," Cas rumbles, a gentle smile on his lips.

Dean clears his throat and absentmindedly rubs his chest again. "Okay. Well. Good talk. I should- I should go back to bed- lots of big days coming up- world to save- goodnight, Cas." Dean doesn't want to call what he's doing running away, but he certainly does a good impression of it when he turns around and ducks back into the room.

A soft, "Goodnight, Dean," follows him inside before the door clicks shut behind him.

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

We need a part two of the harley quinn mother headcanons!

SUGAR & SPICE!

pairings ⸺ Mother! Harley Quinn x Teen! Reader.

(PLATONIC FIC)

¿Request? Yes!

This is a Headcanon!

sinopsis ⸺ Every mother reaches the moment when she sees her chick starting to become independent from the nest. Harley loved you from the moment she found you in that abandoned alley, and now she finds it hard to accept that you are drifting away.

If she knew why you were leaving her behind, she would probably be thinking about putting Robin in the oven.

warnings ⸺ Fluff and Angst, Platonic Cuddling, ¿OOC Harley? Idk, Disturbing Content, Street Fights, Violence, Trauma.

A/N ── Honestly, I didn't plan on making a continuation of that headcanon, but since you asked (and your requests are sacred to me), here it is! Shoutout to @animequeen4 for the inspiration too!

When you grow up as the child of one of the most notorious supervillains in Gotham, things get a bit complicated. Harley knew this since you entered school, and especially since she separated from the Joker. She had prepared for everything: to protect you from clowns, snakes, and even snakes disguised as clowns. But what she didn't see coming, what truly drove her crazy, was the biggest challenge of all: your adolescence.

Harley noticed it almost immediately. At first, it was small things. Like how you no longer wanted to listen to the music she played at full volume in the lair. Instead, you started listening to your own songs, the ones she described as "unbearable noise." Then came the decoration of your room, which went from posters of heroes and villains to something "weird," according to Harley. “Since when do you like bats so much?” she would say with an eyebrow raised. But what broke her heart the most was when you stopped letting her dress you. She got frustrated every time she tried to put something on you that she thought looked great, and you would just say, "No, mom, I don't like that anymore."

But the worst, the worst of all, was when you entered high school. You made friends. Friends whose names Harley didn't even know. Horrible! For someone like her, who was used to knowing all the details of your life, that was the worst that could happen. And on top of that, you no longer asked for permission to do things! The worst part was that she had raised you "well" (according to her criteria), so she didn't understand how you ended up at the police station several times for vandalism and disturbances.

"I raised you better than this!" she would shout, completely indignant, while signing the papers to get you out of another detention. Inside, she knew you were going through that rebellious phase, but that didn't make it any easier to cope.

One day, Harley stood at the door of your room, frustrated because you didn't even ask her for help with your math problems anymore. She stared at you, her hands on her hips, and exclaimed, “Look, little birdie, I get you! I know you're growing up and all that, but can you please stop doing it so fast? You're slipping through my fingers!”

It was a mix of desperation and tenderness. Harley wasn't ready to see you grow up. She knew you were becoming more independent, but in her heart, you would always be her little one. And even though she got frustrated with all these changes, with every new friend or every time you snuck out to go to a party, deep down she just wanted to make sure you were okay.

Puberty was a roller coaster, and Harley was starting to realize that nothing in her villain life had prepared her to deal with it. The first thing she noticed was that you no longer wanted to go out with her for taco Fridays with the girls. Those days when they went shopping, wore neon clothes, and had laughs while window shopping stopped being your thing. Harley watched you from the doorframe, taco in hand, saying, “What happened to my buddy? Where's the kid who loved to eat until stuffed full of carnitas?”

Sometimes, Harley tried not to take it to heart, but it was hard. She crumbled a little every time you locked yourself in your room instead of watching her roll around on the sofas with the Birds of Prey or with the Sirens, planning their next crazy scheme. It was then that she realized she needed help. So, as a good mother (or as close as she could get), she turned to the only person who could understand her frustration... Catwoman.

But the chat with Selina wasn’t exactly helpful. “Harley, sweetheart, I don’t mix with kids. I don’t know what you want me to tell you, mine has four legs and purrs,” Selina said, taking a sip of her martini while checking out a new leather whip. It was a "thanks, but no thanks," and Harley left with more questions than answers.

Next stop: Ivy. Harley had high hopes that Ivy, with her serenity and green wisdom, would give her the key to understanding you better. But Ivy just shrugged and said, “Plants grow, Harley. Just like kids. You can't stop the natural process.” Harley frowned. “And what do I do when they doesn’t want to tell me who he's with all day?” Ivy, very zen, replied, “You could always... spy ” It wasn't exactly the help she was looking for.

After exhausting her resources with the girls, Harley did the unthinkable: she turned to Batman. Yes, Batman! In a conversation that turned out to be as awkward as it was effective, the Dark Knight explained to her what he had learned from raising his multiple Robins: “It's part of growing up. You just have to be there, but give them space. You can't control everything.”

Harley, of course, took it with her usual dramatism: “Give them space!? But they doesn’t even want to go for tacos anymore!?” It was as if the world had turned upside down.

Meanwhile, at school, things weren’t going smoothly either. Your new “friends” were... questionable. People that Harley, if she had known, would have kicked out. But, for your luck (or misfortune), those friends didn’t last long. In the end, the problems they brought with them distanced you from them, and unexpectedly, you found yourself spending more time with Damian again. Harley, of course, had no idea about this. To her, Damian was just the rude boy you sometimes talked to.

There was always something about him that intrigued you, and despite his constant grumbling and "I don't care" attitude, you managed to see beyond that. Between talks about anything (and often about nothing), Damian became someone important to you. Harley had no idea about this mini romance, because if she did, she would probably already be plotting a plan to scare the Wayne boy. “If you think he’s cute, go for it,” she had once said with a mischievous wink. And although she didn't think you would take it seriously, here you were, emotionally entangled with Batman’s son, even though at that time you didn't know he was Batman's son.

It all started with an idea that, in retrospect, wasn’t the best: throwing paint cans at Robin. In your defense, it sounded like a funny prank at the moment. What you didn't calculate was that Robin, being Damian Wayne, wasn’t exactly easy to evade. You ran as if your life depended on it, covering almost twenty kilometers, and the most frustrating part was that he wasn’t even sweating. Every time you turned to see if you had lost him, there he was, impeccable, with that unfriendly look and his expression of "When I catch you, say goodbye to your legs."

When he finally threw you to the ground, ready to give you the lesson of your life, you looked at him more closely. That perfectly styled hair, that look of a thousand deaths, and the sarcasm in every phrase... "Damian?!" you shouted, more out of disbelief than fear. Because, of course, it turns out your boyfriend wasn’t just a rude jerk, but also the damn Robin. The pieces finally fell into place, and you didn’t know whether to laugh or feel betrayed. In the end, you did both.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he reprimanded you with that authoritative voice he usually reserved for criminals and his family. "Throwing paint? Seriously?"

The funny thing is that, even though you were completely exhausted from the chase, your brain didn’t stop working. So instead of apologizing like a normal person, you shrugged and said, "At least it wasn't green paint. That would have been offensive." He didn’t find it so funny.

From that moment on, the romantic dates became something much more... practical. Damian decided that if you were going to get into trouble, at least you should know how to defend yourself, so starry night strolls turned into intense self-defense training sessions. "Nothing says 'I love you' like a well-placed punch," you thought every time Damian corrected your stance. And although at first you considered it the least romantic of gestures, there was something sweet about how he insisted on keeping you safe.

Of course, these "dates" weren’t just training. Eventually, you met Jon Kent, the super-sweet boy who contrasted so much with Damian's serious personality. The trio you formed was a disaster waiting to happen, yet somehow it worked. Between secret missions, night escapades, and 'lots of fun,' the three of you became inseparable. But it was all super secret, because if Batman found out, well, the reprimand wouldn’t be exactly gentle. And Harley... well, don’t even think about what Harley would say if she found out.

But Harley, being Harley, didn’t take long to notice the changes. For her, it was alarming to see how her kid, her little birdie, was starting to come home late through the window, with two colors in his hair that reminded her a bit of her own lifestyle, and some bruises that you, of course, tried to hide. "Did you fall down the stairs again? Seriously?" she would ask skeptically while helping you tend to your wounds.

Her biggest fear wasn’t that you would get into minor trouble, but that he would have come back. Harley began to suspect that the Joker had found you, and that kept her in a constant state of alert. She watched you more closely, trying not to show it, but it was obvious. Nights with Damian always seemed to fly by. Between training, talks, and that connection you both shared, the hours slipped away without either of you noticing. That was how it happened that one particular night, after a long and exhausting session, he decided to walk you home. Not that you needed it, you were perfectly capable of getting home on your own (or so you said), but Damian liked to make sure you got home safely. Plus, it was an excuse to spend more time together.

It was already four in the morning, and you were ready to say goodbye with a kiss when suddenly, three giant hyenas sprang out from under your bed, and Harley, in full ninja mode, dropped from the ceiling with a baseball bat in hand. "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!"

You had to close the window, leaving Damian outside, to prevent your mom and the hyenas from getting to the "mom, chill," you tried to calm her, putting yourself between them. "It's not what it looks like."

"Oh no! It looks like you're turning into a mini-Harley with a boyfriend and everything, and I'm not going to sit back and watch how they break your heart like that stupid clown broke mine!"

But you managed to slow her down, and with Harley calmed down (more or less), the tension of the moment seemed to dissolve, but she didn’t stop there. The next morning, she showed up at the Batcave (Only God knows how she found the Batcave), furious, and ready to confront Batman for allowing his son to "seduce" her little birdie. "What kind of father lets his son stay out late with my kid?! This is unacceptable!"

Bruce, who was busy with his screens, barely looked up. He listened to Harley’s furious monologue while maintaining his typical calm posture, nodding from time to time. When Harley finished, he just raised his thumb calmly, as if giving his approval. "Damian has good taste," was all he said.

"That doesn’t help me, Bats!" Harley exclaimed, frustrated. But Bruce, in his minimalist style, simply added, "You... should spend more time with your kid, Harley. Don’t worry so much. And if you need help, just let me know."

Harley was left speechless. It wasn’t the response she expected, but deep down, she knew Batman was right. She sighed and, resigned, left without more than a warning for Bruce: "Just because you told me that doesn’t mean I won’t hit you with my bat if things go wrong."

But the truth is that as Harley made her way home, she reflected a little. You were growing up, and although she didn’t like it, it was part of life. You couldn’t be her little one forever, and while the fear of losing you was always present, she knew she had to trust you. After all, she had raised you well (in her own way), and now she could only let you fly a little, like that little bird she often mentioned.

Back at home, she found you lying on the couch, still with some paint in your hair from the prank on Damian. Harley watched you for a while, noticing how much you had grown. Not just in height, but in attitude. The way you had started to move through the world, making your own decisions, forming relationships outside the little universe she had built for you. And that, even though she sometimes denied it, hurt her a little. She sat on the edge of the couch, sighing as she stroked your messy hair.

Harley noticed it before anyone. First, you stopped getting excited about taco Fridays with the girls or going out to dye your hair neon. Then, it was the uncomfortable silence when you no longer sought her advice for anything. You had become more independent, but Harley only saw you drifting away.

Harley sighed and looked at you with a mix of nostalgia and worry. “You’re growing up... and even though I hate it, I know I can’t stop it. I just want you to know that you will always be my little birdie. No matter how big you get, you will always have a place with me.”

You stayed silent, noticing how difficult it was for her to say it. Harley had been many things, but she had never stopped being your mother. You smiled at her and nodded, feeling a familiar warmth in your chest. "I love you too, mom. I promise I’m not drifting away, I’m just... growing."

Harley gave you a tight hug, and in that moment, you knew that even though everything might change, you would always find that common ground, whether it was stealing marshmallows or just sharing a night under the stars. "Puberty sucks," Harley joked, and for the first time in a long time, you both laughed together.

As the hug lingered, you felt how the outside world faded away, leaving only Harley and you in a bubble of safety and love. "I’ll be here, always ready for you, even if sometimes I’m a little... crazy,” she replied with a soft laugh. “But you know that’s what makes everything more fun, right?”

You nodded, and inside, the worry you had felt about drifting away from her faded. There was comfort in knowing that even though the road ahead might be complicated and full of challenges, you had a beacon lighting your way. A mother who, with her craziness and unconditional love, would always guide you home.

"Let’s promise to do more things together, then," you said with determination. "No matter if it’s stealing candy or painting our nails bright colors. There will always be time for that."

"Deal," said Harley, raising her pinky as if sealing a pact. You smiled and linked it with yours. The connection you shared was stronger than any challenge you could face.

"And when it’s time to face the world, I’ll be your ally," she added, a spark of determination shining in her eyes. "Because we will be a team, always."

After that, everything changed, but for the better. Learning to divide your time between everything you loved wasn’t easy, but you knew you would succeed. After all, you had the strongest support: that of your strange yet endearing family, that of your partner, and above all, that of the best mother you could have ever dreamed of.

A/N ─── Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to request anything, don't hesitate to ask. I read all of your comments and questions!

Take a Bath!

[cazshmere]

12th House Synastry and the Blockages Faced in the Relationship (Planet Overlays)

materialist🔖

DISCLAIMER‼️: This explanation is mainly from the perspective of the planet person, but the feelings and experiences described might also resonate with the house person. Both sides may find some relevance in these observations. Please note that this focus is solely on the negative outcomes of these synastry placements. There are undoubtedly beautiful and positive elements that can arise from these connections as well so take these with a grain of salt. These are just my personal observations and are meant for entertainment purposes only; it may not resonate with everyone due to the nuances of astrology. Please respect my work and avoid copying or stealing it. Enjoy reading!!

Sun ☀️ : With this synastry, the Sun person feels that their true personality is restricted or blocked. They don’t understand why or how the house person perceives them in a way that is far from who they actually are. Sensing the house person’s apprehension towards them, they might try “switching personalities” to appeal to or be accepted by the house person, driven by a need to please them. The Sun person feels misunderstood and is unsure why the house person doesn’t see them the way they want to be seen. The sun person could also be some sort of enemy disguised as a friend to the house person.

Moon 🌙 : With this synastry, the Moon person’s true feelings and intentions may seem hidden or concealed for various reasons. The Moon person might feel the need to put up a front to appeal to the house person and gain their acceptance. This can also manifest as the Moon person harboring negative feelings towards the house person but pretending to enjoy their company, reflecting the restriction of their true emotions. This dynamic can lead to a lack of genuine emotional connection and increase misunderstandings. A lot of jealousy also comes into play with this synastry

Mercury 🗣️ : As I'm focusing more on the negative side of this synastry, I have to point out that this is a major red flag placement 💀💀. Communication, which is crucial in any relationship, is significantly blocked here. The Mercury person might withhold their thoughts and intentions due to fear of how the house person will react. This could also involve the Mercury person bad-mouthing the house person or even snitching on them, while putting up a front and pretending to be all buddy-buddy with them. With communication being a barrier, this can also manifest as a language barrier or misunderstandings between the two, leading to further communication problems.

Venus 🩵 : Ahh, the planet of love being in the 12th house 😭—very iffy. With this placement, love is literally blocked in this synastry due to unfortunate circumstances. This could mean that the Venus person doesn't know how to be lovey-dovey with the house person and ends up being rude, though in a more playful way, as Venus tends to be gentler. The Venus person might feel that the house person won’t accept their love and as a result starts “teasing” or “playfully bullying” them as a subtler way of expressing themselves. Since the Venus person can’t externally express their love, they turn these feelings inward, leading to the creation of fake scenarios. In these scenarios, they are genuinely expressing their love for the house person, and what plays out in these fake scenarios is what they actually want to portray in real life but are somehow unable to. The venus person also feels that the house person might not understand the way they love and that’s why they end up not expressing themselves openly and that’s where unrequited feelings and love occurs. You will never know unless you try right?

Mars ❤️‍🔥 : Lmao, this one is the most interesting! As we know, Mars is the planet of initiation and motivation. When Mars falls in the 12th house, it blocks any chance for progression - be it physically, mentally or emotionally. Mars is a very instinctual planet, and being placed in the 12th house can lead to confusion about their true instincts. The Mars person might doubt themselves and try to pull back to avoid overstepping any “boundaries”but the mars person often takes the idea of "overstepping boundaries" a bit too literally and ends up not making any move at all. Contact is blocked. This has to be one of the worst synastries because if contact itself is blocked, how can a relationship even be formed? It blocks all the areas such as the development of love, feelings, communication, etc.

Jupiter 🧿 : This placement is comparatively easygoing, but as we focus on the hindrances in this synastry, it can present some challenges. Jupiter represents expansion and abundance, but when it falls into the 12th house, it amplifies themes related to spirituality, mysticism, spirituality, etc. While one of Jupiter’s natural traits is the art of bringing joy and luck into wherever it lands, this can manifest as the Jupiter person bringing immense joy and luck to the house person. However, the Jupiter person might come across as excessively optimistic, which the house person may find confusing or overwhelming. This difference in outlook can leave the Jupiter person feeling let down because the house person doesn’t share their perspective or beliefs. As a result, the Jupiter person might hold back their optimism and viewpoints to better ‘connect’ with the house person on a higher level.

Saturn 🪐 : With this synastry, discipline and structure are blocked. The Saturn person may feel off balance and unstable when they’re with the house person. The house person might have a very fluid and mutable way of living, which is probably something the Saturn person struggles with or entirely opposes. However, with 12th house synastry, there is often a need for pleasing and acceptance from both parties. As a result, the Saturn person might bend their own rules and try to go with the house person's “flow,” but they won’t feel comfortable doing so because it creates a sense of imbalance in their life.

Neptune 🧜🏼‍♀️ : This placement is quite tricky and can be confusing. Neptune, the planet of dreams and illusions, falls in the 12th house, which can block a clear sense of reality. The Neptune person might find their ability to perceive the house person’s true nature clouded, leading to misunderstandings or unrealistic expectations. The house person may feel like their true self is hidden or misunderstood, and the Neptune person could struggle with setting clear boundaries or distinguishing between fantasy and reality. This can create a foggy dynamic where both parties have a hard time grasping the other’s true intentions and feelings.

Pluto ⚡️: This placement can be intense and transformative, but it also comes with its hurdles. Pluto is all about transformation and power, and in the 12th house, it blocks the ability to fully experience or enact personal change. The Pluto person may find it difficult to navigate deep transformations within the relationship, leading to feelings of being stuck or unable to evolve. This can manifest as unresolved issues or hidden power struggles. The house person might struggle to understand or support the Pluto person's need for transformation, leading to a dynamic where growth feels obstructed and hidden tensions simmer beneath the surface.

Uranus 🛸 : This placement brings a unique set of challenges. Uranus represents uniqueness and innovation, but when it falls in the 12th house, it blocks the ability to fully express or embrace individuality. The Uranus person might feel stifled or unable to showcase their unique qualities in the relationship, leading to feelings of frustration or alienation. They might struggle with feeling accepted for who they truly are, and their innovative ideas or unconventional traits could be suppressed. This can cause the Uranus person to feel disconnected from the house person, who may not fully appreciate or understand their uniqueness.

banner/pic credit : @/crisscreen and @/only-ranpo

© cazshmere 2024 [All Rights Reserved]

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Study Buddy pt1

Stepdad!Anakin x femme reader

18+ MDNI

Warnings: dubcon, dd/lg, PiV, unprotected sex, gen. smut, baby trapping, edging kinda?, manipulation, possessiveness, age-gap, stepcest, inappropriate relationship, praise kink, breeding kink, innocence/purity kink

Info: stepdad Anakin just adores his stepdaughter! It’s not his fault that she’s so fucking fine. Anakin is a perv but it’s okay cause he loves you, Anakin just wants the best for you! And the best for you is him, obviously. spoiled little naive brat reader but Anakin prefers you that way. Reader acts more innocent/naive than they really are. Reader is over 18

🕊 Dead dove do not eat 🕊

The one where you just need alittle extra incentive.

You sighed, taking your calculus homework into the living room. Handing Anakin the Pepsi he requested and sat down in the floor. Leaning back against the couch and setting the notebook down on the coffee table so you could get back to work.

"Good girl." He praised, his fingers brushing against your cheek from behind you. He took a long drag from his cigarette before exhaling a cloud of smoke.

"What are you working on?" His eyes trailed downwards, lingering on your body for a moment, taking the opportunity to stare at the dimples in the small of your back. He was relaxed, shirtless and in his favorite pj pants with his socked feet kicked up on the coffee table next to you.

“Calculus homework.” You grumbled. “my brain is basically fried. This shit is driving me nuts.”

You pushed the notebook away in frustration and twirled the pencil between your fingers.

“Hey. Language.” He said gruffly. “Chill out, do you want help? I’m pretty alright at math.”

“Actually, yeah that would be great.” You nodded, grumbling in frustration.

Sometimes all you needed to understand something is to see it from a different angle, maybe Anakin, your step-dad could help with that.

"Alright, alright." He chuckled softly to himself before putting out his cigarette.

Standing up to stretch his arms above his head. The dark hairs leading to the waist of his pants exposed as his shirt rode up his abdomen. He knelt down so his face was level with yours. Reaching out, he took the notebook from you and scanned the pages.

"Hmm... huh... well, let's start here," he said, pointing to a problem written in your neat handwriting. Grunting as he sat down next to you, his arms resting on his knees.

After solving the equation he helped with the next question, and you were finally starting to get the hang of it. He gave you a kiss on the cheek as a reward, a soft one that made you smile, one that said ‘I’m so proud of you!’. For the next one you got right it was an unexpected but smooth kiss to your lips.

“Daddy.” You whispered in shock at his real kiss. “We’re not supposed to do that!”

Anakin’s gaze softened as he pulled you into a comforting hug.

“Aw sweet girl, I’m sorry. I should’ve explained myself first.” He sighed.

“This is real hard work isn’t it?” He asked, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Yeah it is.” You nodded.

He laughed a little. “And what do I always say when you do hard work?”

“You always tell me hard work deserves big rewards.” You grinned, thinking of all the times he’d taken you out to your favorite restaurant, to see a new movie, to buy you new things.

But your favorite rewards and treats were the ones he got you on his way home from work. Sometimes when he felt like you needed a little pick-me up, he’d stop at the store and get you a box of candy or one of those tiny little cutesy squishmallows that come in the surprise eggs.

He smiled, giving you a light squeeze just above the knee. “Exactly!”

“I’ve found a much better way to reward you my sweet girl.” He spoke in a cheerful tone in an attempt to make you smile and it was working effortlessly. “Somethin’ real special that I think you will love.”

“And it’s kisses?” You said, tilting your head to the side.

“Sometimes kisses, sometimes not.” He said, giving you a chaste kiss on the forehead.

“Well what’s the sometimes not?” You asked excitedly, what could possibly be better than kisses?

“Oh come on now.” He teased. “Treats and rewards are always better as surprises aren’t they?”

“Yeah you’re right.” You giggled.

“That's better," he cooed, satisfied by your reaction.

“Now come here, let's continue our 'lesson.'" With a gentle tug, he pulled you into the empty space between his legs, scooting your back toward him enough that he could easily rest his chin on your shoulder to watch you work.

He placed the notebook back on the coffee table and leaned in closer, his breath brushing against your neck as he spoke.

“So, how about we start with some stuff you already know? Something simple to ease us back into things?" He traced slow circles on your exposed lower back with his thumb, his fingers pressing gently into the flesh of your stomach as his massive hand rested on your side.

"O-okay..." You stuttered, unable to ignore the sudden warmth spreading throughout your body.

“Alright.” He nodded, flipping through the text book until he reached the previous chapter you had been working on in class. He wrote out some equations for you to solve and quickly worked them out himself on his phone calculator before typing the answers in his notes app and telling you to get started.

Each step in the equation that you did correctly Anakin would press a tiny little barely there kiss to your shoulder.

“You’re doing real good doll-face.” He praised you quietly with his cheek pressed against yours and couldn’t help but smile when you felt him do the same.

“Just keep working hard and I’ll help when you need me to. But right now, try to work them out yourself and I’ll keep giving you sweet little reward kisses!” He said happily.

“Okay Daddy.” You smiled, leaning back against his chest and setting out to work on the next question.

He chuckled softly, pleased with your progress and willingness to please. As you finished each equation, he would whisper sweet words of encouragement followed by little kisses along your neck and shoulders. He even nibbled your earlobe a few times, which you quickly discovered had that strange butterfly effect in your tummy as well.

"Good girl, good girl," he murmured approvingly as your confidence in your work grew. "You're doing great, keep it up."

“Alright, now I’m gonna make you some new ones, they’re gonna be harder alright? Once we get these down, I’ll set up some more difficult ones and then you can try to ones you were assigned for homework. They’ll seem easy after you’ve worked so hard on these other ones!” Anakin explained as he began writing out new equations for you to solve.

He took great care in making sure to double check the answers to ensure he’d be able to properly tutor you.

After getting the first more advanced one finished correctly, Anakin started his plan to give you a new reward.

“Look at you princess, you’re doing so well!” His voice flowing soothingly as he switched from sweet chaste kisses to nibbling and sucking on your neck.

You gasped, in a state of awe at the way he could turn those chaste kisses into something warm and wet and lingering. Those silky soft lips momentarily destroying your ability to think freely.

While you were distracted, he took the opportunity to sweeten the pot. One of his calloused hands defied any pre-conceived notions that one might associate with such an attribute. One might expect a man with hands like Anakin’s; large rough palms, long fingers, overall strong and veiny, to be brutish or rough.

Though it seemed he was naturally the direct opposite. One of those big strong hands slid from it’s resting place to slip beneath the hem of your shirt. Splaying those long fingers across the expanse of your lower abdomen, pressing gently, just enough to properly feel each breath you took from the rise and fall of your tummy.

After a moment of savoring this intimacy Anakin brought that same hand up over the fabric of your shirt once more. A slow ascent to cup your breast, remaining motionless despite the twitch of his finger that exposed his want for more than a simple touch.

After the next correct answer he finally allowed that eager twitch to bloom into small deliberate circles around your nipple. Sparingly brushing his thumb over the hardened nub in order to properly appreciate and enjoy the helpless whimper that escaped your lips each time.

“Next question?” You asked quietly, Anakin only mumbling a ‘yes’ against your skin as he kept up his slow sensual neck and shoulder kisses paired with both of his now hands softly massaging your breasts and nipples. The added squeeze of his palm was almost soothing. As though he aimed to tame the warming embers of desire that lay dormant beneath your skin.

"Atta girl," he praised, his voice low and husky.

"Now, let's try this one." He observed attentively while you struggled to focus on the task at hand.

He chuckled at the way you squirmed every so often and relented, now guiding you through each step while his hands continued their teasing exploration of your body.

"Almost there, I believe in you sweetheart." Somehow his words felt like the rays of afternoon summer sun that shone through the curtains. You imagined that this must be the equivalent to how your cat feels when he bathes in those rays.

“Well babydoll, this is how we’ll do your homework from now on! You’re doing so so good!” He praised you, reluctantly removing his hands from your breasts.

“You deserve alittle brain break okay?” He said, guiding your head to turn with one finger on your jaw.

Before you could speak Anakin slotted his lips against yours. His tongue swiping lightly across your bottom lip, a slight up turn of his mouth when you gasped. He gently, slowly probed your mouth with his tongue; savoring the unique flavor of you.

‘Raspberry tea and honey, yes, that’s it. That’s what she tastes like.’ He decided, locking that information away into the corner of his mind that was reserved for you. Though that corner was becoming much like the chair in the corner of your room that overflowed with clothes. A few more things stacked on top would topple the precarious pile, spilling all things you into every crack and crevice of his conscience.

Meanwhile you were currently short circuiting. The onslaught of completely foreign sensations he’d provided you with was beginning to quite literally fry your brain. You felt warm, mushy, like your brain was goo and your body was clay, ready and willing to be molded to Anakin in whatever new ways he saw fit.

He pulled back, a wide toothy grin taking over when he saw the glaze that had taken over your eyes. Those beautiful eyes, their rich color stolen away by the deep black of your pupil.

“See? You needed that huh?” He cooed, running his thumb down your jaw while we waited patiently for you to collect yourself enough to respond.

“Uh… uh huh.” You nodded slowly, your cheeks flushed and your throat feeling tight as stoked those ember-coals within you, now burning to form a red hot flame.

“Can I try something pretty girl?” He asked in that seductive whisper.

“Oh, ‘course daddy.” You breathed out, of course you’d let him. You’d let him do anything if it meant you could have more of this.

“Thank you baby.” He whispered as he gently rolled the hem of your shirt up, guiding it up and over your head.

You whimpered, the cool air hitting your burning hot flesh making a cold shiver travel up your spine. You swear you heard a little moan coming from Anakin when he finally caught a glimpse of your bare back, and you were positive you heard one when he reached around once more to massage your breasts and toy with your nipples; he was so incredibly grateful to be rid of that pesky fabric barrier, and even more grateful that you never wore a bra at home.

He squeezed and pulled your nipples gently rolling them between his fore finger and thumb. The feeling was good, warm, and tingly; somehow even better than before. Inwardly you wanted to smack him for not taking off your shirt sooner.

A low moan left your lips Anakin reacting with a light chuckle and a sloppy kiss to the under side of your jaw.

“That's it, you're doing great," He praised, his voice dripping with pride; pride at how well you were responding to him.

He was proud of the you he was slowly bringing to the surface. Teasing the little minx that hid behind your innocence, he knew it was waiting for him. Ready for him to capture and keep it, to train it to feed from his palm.

"Now, let's try this one." He suggested, showing you another equation.

Now his fingers trailed slowly down your stomach towards the top of your shorts. He paused just above them, to follow the curve of the elastic cotton waistband with featherlight fingertips.

"This one might be a bit trickier, but remember, I believe in you." He cooed.

“Okay daddy.” You nodded, breathing heavier. “If you think I can do it.”

“I do princess.” *He reassured you.

Anakin's touch became increasingly bold, his fingers making their way to your inner thighs. Leaving tingling sensation to form between your legs, you jolted for a moment, that single flame of desire growing, burning hotter and hotter.

“Lift up sweetheart.” He whispered.

“M’kay.” You squeaked, your voice feeling small.

He gently removed your shorts, a satisfied hum rumbled in his chest when you sat back down and his hand returned to its rightful place between your thighs.

His teasing touch, the torturously gentle tracing of the edges of your panties making your wetness seep through the thin material of your underwear. He continued to stimulate your nipples, and switched to the opposite side of your neck, while he changed tactics on your lower half. Two fingers pressing lightly against that dampened cotton, massaging slowly, making you squirm slightly in response.

“Oh no, is that uncomfy?” He asked gently, concern in his tone.

“Yes,” You whimpered. “all tingly.”

“It won’t be for long alright princess? Daddy’s right here to help.” He promised, his lips against your ear lobe.

“But-“ You started, wanting to complain. Wanting to ask for more; more of what? Good question and only Anakin had that answer.

He tsks, shaking his head slightly. “Finish this one up sweetheart.”

You whined in response and huffed at not getting your way. But followed instructions regardless because Anakin was always right, he was always here to help, always here to guide you, and always gave in to your wants eventually. He couldn’t stand to tell you no, he just couldn’t do it. It was like it physically pained him to see your bottom lip in a pout.

He signed and applied alittle more pressure to encourage you to get back to your work.

A few agonizing minutes later he confirmed your answer was correct, resulting in your excited and eager reaction. You turned slightly to look back at Anakin expectantly,

He grinned, rolling his eyes. He knew exactly what you were doing, you were waiting for him to deal the next card in your new game.

"Perfect job darlin’ you got it on the first try!” He praised, nuzzling into your hair to smell the warm vanilla scent of it.

He tapped your thigh and you instinctively lifted your legs up. He cooed, soothing words while slipping your panties off and lifting you into his lap. Your wet pussy pressed against the large bulge in his pants, those two fingers slipping past your pussy lips. He coated his digits in your slick, dragging them back and forth, up and down your slit.

“Is that right? Did I do that one? I feel like it’s n-not right.” You asked him for help, and when he confirmed it was correct he dipped the very tip of his middle finger in between your soaking wet folds.

“That's right, baby girl." His voice was low and husky, though alittle richer, perhaps it could be described better as darker.

"Now let's try this one together." With a slow motion, he inserted his middle finger into you fully. As you struggled with keeping your sanity, trying to hold a pencil, and trying not to cry from the overwhelming urge for more, Anakin was merely breathing heavily. Occasionally grunting as your cunt fluttered around his finger, his cock throbbing against you.

"How does that feel?" He asked, his tone dripping with satisfaction at watching you squirm and writhe under his touch.

“I- I like it daddy. It feels good.” You whined, feeling him add a second finger and stretching you a bit. It burned, but in a good way.

“That’s right baby.” Anakin nodded. “It’s supposed to feel good, and I’ll make it even better after we get alllll this silly homework done okay?”

Anakin said as you bucked lightly against his palm, chuckling when he heard a low moan escape your lips as he curled his fingers and pushed them in slowly, dragging them back out even slower. The snail’s pace was tolerable, a thousand times more satisfactory compared to his mean and teasing touches before, though they still continually added to that growing fire pit of yours.

“That's it, baby girl." He praised, adding another finger to stretch you even more.

“Daddy.” You hissed, sucking air through your teeth.

“I know darlin’ it’s okay.” He soothed. “Just sit real still.”

You sniffled, accidentally wiggling a bit too much. “S’hurting daddy.”

He began to thrust his three long digits slowly in and out of you, his hips rocking rhythmically in time with his hands movements.

“Shhh. My little princess." Anakin's voice was filled with sympathy, his fingers moving slower inside you. His thumb starting to rub circles on your sensitive nub. “Daddy’s here, just trust me.”

Your furrowed eyebrows slowly turned into an upward swoop, your anxious lip biting coming to a halt as your jaw dropped open in a silent moan.

“That’s better isn’t it doll?” Anakin asked, a low hum reverberating from him after you responded with a rapid head nod and an experimental roll of your hips.

“Much better.” You breathed out a sigh of relief, his fingers starting up that slow pace again. His thumb flicking back and forth across your puffy little clit.

“This calculus is real hard huh?” He said.

“Yeah it is.” You mumbled, meaning to sound angry, but it really just sounded like a plea.

“Gimme your hand babydoll.” He softly commands.

You let him take your hand and guide it behind you, helping you wrap your delicate fingers around the rock hard bulge in his pants.

“Daddy…” You moaned as your body responded to the feel of his cock in your hand.

“Do you know what a cock is? What it looks like? What it’s for?” He asked slowly and you giggled, nodding in response to his questions.

“Have you ever touched one?” You vehemently said no absolutely not.

“Well daddy is gonna pull out his cock, and help you settle down on it alright? We’ll go real slow and gentle; you tell me immediately if you want me to stop okay?” He explained while softly gliding his hand through your hair, while continuing his slow exploration of the warm, gummy walls of your cunt.

“Can I see?” You asked timidly.

“Of course doll. You can touch it too if you want.” He said softly, removing his fingers from your tight hole.

He took a minute to admire the creamy slick gathered on his digits before offering you one of his fingers.

“Do you wanna know what you taste like?” His voice dark and almost sinister.

You didn’t answer, just parted your lips and let the tip of your tongue hang out. He smirked and slipped his index finger past your lips and rubbed it on your tongue. Your nose scrunched up for a moment, the taste unfamiliar and strange, but it was easy to get used to.

He chuckled, removing it so that he could properly clean each finger with his lips and tongue. Sucking each digit thoroughly, moaning with his eyes fluttering closed at the first taste.

“So sweet.” He whispered.

“Hop up and turn around for me sweetheart.” He said, pinching your ass cheek playfully, just hard enough to make you yelp.

You did as requested and settled back on his thighs. His face was just as red as yours felt. His pupils dilated beyond belief, his bare chest had a thin sheen of sweat. His plump bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he finally got a good look at you.

He had wanted to wait. To wait until he couldn’t stand it any longer. The teasing was for him just as much as it was for you. The reward of such a long and torturous game was well and wholly worth it. To finally see you like this. Flushed and wanton, needy for his cock.

Those tits. God those fucking tits… he moaned cupping them in his hands again. They were beautiful when he could see them from behind you, looking down at them from over your shoulder. But up close and in his face? Stunning. Absolutely breathtakingly stunning.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He whispered, entranced temporarily before he snapped out of it and realized this was not one of his sick and twisted dreams.

Oh and how he had dreamed. Night after night, waking up and having to palm his cock roughly just to get enough relief to go back to sleep, only to wake up the next morning and spend half his time in the shower fucking his fist and desperately wishing it were your tight little cunt.

This was real. He had you, completely naked, drooling and sopping wet, putty in his hands.

“Daddy is gonna make you feel so so good after your homework is done.” He smiled, dreamy and spaced out.

“Pull out my cock baby.” He encouraged, taking your wrists in each hand and helping you pull his pants and boxers down his thighs.

Anakin's cock sprang free from his pants, standing erect and proud before your wide eyes. It was thick and veiny, slightly curved upward towards his belly button.

“Ani…” You whimpered worried about what to do, how to properly do this, if you should do this. You wanted to, needed to. But should you?

“What’re you thinking doll?” Anakin asked, his hands on either side of you running his knuckles up and down your tummy soothingly.

“Am I gonna get in trouble?” You whispered.

“What?” He asked, in confusion. “Why would you get in trouble sweetheart?”

“Well, ‘cause of this…” You mumbled.

“Babydoll.” He cooed, his thumb and forefinger pinching your chin and tilting your head back so he could look directly in your eyes. “You won’t be in trouble. I’m your stepfather right?”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded.

“So that means I get to help make the rules around here doesn’t it?” He said soothingly, cupping your cheek.

“Yeah.” You nodded, a small smile beginning to form on your lips. You were beginning to see his reasoning and justification clearly.

“So it would be silly for you to get in trouble for something I said was okay wouldn’t it?” He smiled softly.

You giggled, nodding. Happy that he answered your question, amazed as always that he was so easily able to wash away your worries and concerns.

“There’s my little princess.” He cooed, rubbing his nose against yours. “Are you ready now?”

“Yes Ani.” You nodded with a smile, kneeling over his dick.

His large hand grabbing the base, holding his visibly throbbing cock steady as he slowly pushed the head against your tight entrance.

"Just relax, baby doll," He whispered in your ear, his other hand gripping your waist tightly to help guide you down his length. "Just breathe in and out slowly."

Your eyebrows furrowed as you put your arms around his neck and took comfort in the way he took control and made you feel safe even when you were so vulnerable in his arms. You were trusting him with a lot right now, the most intimate and sacred side of yourself.

“Anakin… oh gods.” You gasped in pain as he pushed in farther. He rolled his hips gently, popping your hymen, groaning when he felt that precious little thing snap.

“Shhh it’s okay, I won’t move anymore for now.” He held your hips firmly in place, allowing you to bury your face in his neck in an attempt to steady your breath as he did the same.

Your pussy involuntarily clenched around his cock as he shifted, making you wince in dull pain and Anakin grunt in pleasure at the constricting tightness.

"That's a good girl," He praised, his voice hoarse as he forced himself to maintain control. "You're doing great, just relax."

His hands moved down from your hips to squeeze and support your ass cheeks. Leaning in for a kiss, letting out a questioning hum as he ever so slowly started lowering you again. You nodded, letting him know it was okay despite the prickly sensation of tears forming in your eyes.

You focused on his tongue, on his hands, on the racing of his heart beneath your palm.

"Let me know if you need me stop, okay?" He broke the kiss to lovingly ask. “I don’t want to hurt you sweetheart.”

“I will Ani.” You promised, nodded vigorously as he slowly, steadily impaled you on his cock.

“Jesus.” Anakin whined, breathy and strained as he finally bottomed out. Buried to the hilt, feeling comforted in know that you would soon adjust to his size, and he wouldn’t be hurting your poor little weeping pussy anymore.

He hated to see you in pain, and knowing he was the cause was really, really killing him. It was inevitable of course. You were gonna end up speared on his dick sooner or later, and while he was thrilled that it was sooner, he just wishes he could’ve found a way to make it alittle easier on you.

“Be real still, just relax, get used to the feeling doll.” He cooed, soothing hands running up and down your spine.

“Yes Ani.” You whined, thankful for the chance to adjust to feeling so… full.

"Now, let's finish these final problems together, okay?" He said, his voice huskier than usual as he picked up the paper with the remaining equations. “Get your mind off the hurt okay?”

You held the notebook and kept working on one of the equations while Anakin latched on to your nipples and bit down gently.

“Ah!” You yelped, wincing as his bite made you jolt, your cunt squeezing his cock. “Anakin!”

He chuckled kissing your neck and massaging your ass cheeks. “Sorry baby.”

"You know, you're doing really well," he said, his voice full of satisfaction. "I'm impressed with how quickly you've learned it all. This is definitely going to be the way I help you study from now on." Anakin smiled, kissing you softly.

“Almost done.” You whined, scribbling frantically on the page. Trying your best to sit still.

“Baby.” Anakin growled. “Stop wiggling unless you want me to start training you to hold this big fucking cock in your tight little cunt all damn day.”

“Sorry daddy! Didn’t mean too!” You sniffled. “just feels so full, I need to move.” You whimpered, biting your lip.

You were getting impatient with waiting and sick of this stupid math homework and really, really, really impatient for Anakin to help you fuck yourself on his cock.

"Alright, alright." He chuckled, slowly lifting you a little before thrusting up in again.

You sat there, spread out wide on your step daddy’s massive cock. His callous fingers rubbing tight circles on your poor little clit as he fucked you so, so slowly to stop your wriggling and squirming.

“You’re a real good teacher Ani.” You moaned, finishing up the last equation and fighting the urge to moan and cum right then and there just from that tiny bit of relief. “All done.”

Anakin's eyes lit up at your words of praise, his cock twitching inside you in response.

"That's my good girl! So smart." He praised, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in with more strength than before.

His hands gripped your ass firmly and lifted you up and down his cock until you got the hang of the movement. Slowly picking up the pace once you started a low string of moans that Anakin’s hungry mouth swallowed up in a kiss.

“Reach down and play with your clit while you bounce on my cock.” He ordered.

“yes daddy.” You squeaked in response, whining in relief as you started circling your neglected clit.

“That's it, baby girl." Anakin groaned, his hips moving faster as you found your rhythm.

"You're so fucking good at this.” He praised, his head falling back on the couch cushion.

As you got more confident in your movements he started to meet you halfway with his own thrusts, his cock hitting your G-spot relentlessly, you could feel your orgasm building up rapidly. Your moans turned into high-pitched whimpers of pleasure, your nails digging into his shoulders that you gripped tightly for balance.

“I knew you’d be good,” He moaned. “your body is made for me, it’s perfect. So fuckin’ perfect.”

“Y-yeah daddy.” You whispered on the verge of orgasm. “M’feeling something.”

“Fuck. Th-that’s right doll, I told you I’d make you feel good didn’t I?” He moaned, his voice dark with possessiveness.

Anakin growled low in his throat, his grip on your asscheeks tightening almost painfully. He bit down hard on your neck, leaving a mark as evidence of your sinful affair.

"You're about to cum. That’s what that feeling is darlin’ don’t fight it, just let go." He panted between erratic thrusts, his breath hot against your throat. “Once I make you cum it means you’re mine and mine only. Do you want that?”

“Yes daddy.” You agreed, slurring your words as your body tensed up. “I wanna be only yours.” You were practically drooling as you came violently around his cock, flooding his lap with your juices.

Anakin groaned loudly, his orgasm hitting him like a freight train. The intensity of the fact that he’d given you your first orgasm, that he’d properly and officially earned your virginity, made him feral. His cock twitched and pulsed inside you, releasing wave after wave of hot seed into your tight channel.

“God damn,” he hissed out. “such a good girl, letting me fuck this pretty little pussy full of my cum.”

You whined at his praise, grinding down on his cock when you felt the strange but good sensation of stickiness coat your walls.

"Fuck, baby doll." He panted heavily, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he rode out his own climax. "God you just made me cum s-so fuckin’ hard.”

He stilled his movements and yours to catch his breath, nuzzling your neck and holding you close as he whispered sweet nothings into your hair. He pulled back after a moment, looking down at your disheveled state, he grinned widely, licking his lips in satisfaction.

“Did I do good?” You asked with a wobbly lip. Feeling overwhelmed by your senses, overstimulated to the point of tears. “did I make you happy and proud daddy?”

“Oh, you did more than just make me happy and proud, baby girl." Anakin's eyes glittered with something dark, something… a little scary as he gazed down at you.

“You’re gonna make me a fine little baby momma too.” He growled, his hand reaching out to trace gentle circles on your stomach. “Aren’t you?”

Part Two (final part)

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