#MY GOD HOW TOXIC THAT HOUSEHOLD IS

[tylovingkit]

guys I'm halfway through The Golden Raven and for the love of all that's holy SOMEONE GET JEREMY OUT OF THAT FUCKING HOUSE 😭😭

[acid-ixx]

gets fucking stabbed by damian and my last breath still be like "it's not his fault ! he is ten and was raised to be murderous since he was born ! kid entered a household where everyone ignores my existence, i don't blame him for assuming that to be the norm and acting evil to me so that he assimilates to his new environment ! bro literally went through the worst all his life so of course the way he expresses himself is harmful to others !"

and then i get stabbed again lol

— masterlist !

OH MY GOD PLEASE 😭 the gaslighting yourself is real, i'm telling you.

unfortunately, the reader's toxic mindset of justifying everything your family does is a common scenario for every time one of them fucks up; only in the past though. the present chapters will have you slowly realize just nothing really is ever your fault. that you've never once been in the blame for the actions of your youngest brother.

but right now, i want to focus on why you just seem to let damian go about his own crazy path of targeting you. and it's either it's because you have nothing, nobody else to fight back with you, or it's purely because you allow him to.

to destroy you, to make you suffer, to make you learn that you have no place, or standing in the family. and if you do have a place, it is at the rock bottom.

this is what damian is taught: the weak should be eliminated before they fester into some type of unnecessary cancer.

you're weak, when he first saw you, when you first approached him with your tail tucked behind your legs and an invitation to hang out together with the scent of cookies wafting in the air— he knows that it is you who will make him weak.

you give him temptations to be a child, he's raised to fight against it. he ignores the unwelcomed feeling of wamth that blooms in his chest, those are feelings that gets you killed.

so it's how the story goes: he brings his sword up to your neck, and sways his hands swift enough to make a small cut to ensure that the first thing you associate him with is fear. and for someone vulnerable like you, it doesn't take much before you quickly submit to the prospect of your place beneath a trained assassin like him.

he ignores the sudden pang of his heart and the aching, gnawing dread that chews at his mind at the memory of your widening eyes and the wobble in your steps.

it's already damaging enough to have the youngest be introduced and immediately accepted into the family, but it's worse when he's significantly younger than you, a boy nearly half your age; someone you've always wanted to have, to care for, to help raise and cherish... despises you from the start, before you two even formed a connection.

someone you once called your younger brother, now became an enemy in opposing lines in a place called home.

what would've been fine-tuned jealousy towards him because he was given everything in a silver platter turned into shame that you couldn't even face him, not right after he threatened to kill you, no... and especially not after you've convinced yourself that if you couldn't even prove your worth for a young boy like him, then you really have nothing good to offer.

you give him the autonomy to think it's alright, that due to his upbringing, alongside your naive brain always justifying that your other siblings are right, and you are in the wrong— he was given every opportunity to torment you when you even go as far as being in the same room as him.

and i have my receipts on why you're just like that; all in the grace of low self-worth and self-esteem. past you reasons out that it's because it's always your fault.

you couldn't even find a way to save your mother, you couldn't even establish your place in the manor, you couldn't comfort bruce when he was still not over jason, what more could you be when all you see damian as is a young, broken child like you? that behind that veil of threats and weapons ready to attack you, is someone you knew could've been different, if he was raised right...

if he'd given you a chance to help nurture the softer, more humane part of him.

you've always wanted a younger sibling, not only from back when you were just with your mother, but also when you were introduced to the manor. because not only did it mean that you'll know how your mother felt when she raised you, but because you thought you'd have somebody by your side throughout the silent torment you've went through.

and when you're graced with one, who doesn't even consider you his older sibling; you let it be.

you let him be himself.

damian wayne, demon's granson, the son of the bat.

so many titles he's called, but never one where he's your younger brother.

it doesn't help that you justify his past, because the man you idolize, dick, does so too whenever you try to complain. his excuses are never out of malicious intent to have you suffer further— it's just that he never once actually considered you as important enough to bat an eye on, like how the rest of them treat you.

because you know that even dick has his limit towards the youngest member of the family; he just never reaches it when it comes to you.

so if you have a person allow another to act terribly towards you, but have another, a friend or family, who teaches you that it's not right, who fights by your side; it wouldn't take long for you to also learn how to defend yourself then. you'll gain confidence that you're at least not alone, that your actions are completely valid.

... but if you have an entire family that couldn't even scold the boy for leaving a scar on your neck, who brushes his mean comments about you aside, who isolates you even further with malicious words that you know becomes crueler when targeted at you—

then you have no basis for what is right, and what is wrong.

and that makes your authority, your trust in yourself dwindle like your already crumbling relationship with all the others the further you try to fight back.

that's when you learn what it's like to give up, all over again. if you accept his vidictive insults, if you know your place to turn back if you see him in the same room, if you knew from the start that sometimes trying doesn't equate to succeeding; then it'll at least numb the pain that comes after.

for the entirety of your life from when damian was introduced, that was how you coped—

but your life after the manor, after damian matures and learns softness, about empathy (that he's buried long ago during his training from when he was all but a toddler) on your situation; reading your journal entries because he still felt entitled to due to some hidden, twisted trait of possessiveness... that's an entirely different story.

would you still be as understanding as you were back in the past towards him? would you still force yourself to love the demon you saw as just a little boy? or would damian finally understand that it's too late to turn back time, to correct all his mistakes?

either way, if you were capable enough to change (at least, in his eyes), becoming an independent person (you think, huh? your place is at the manor), then maybe you could give him a chance too, to fix your relationship and build a bridge to an even stronger one.

one where you could finally baby him, like what you've desired. one where he could feel vulnerable, when he learned that it's valid to feel weak— it cuts back to the previous points: you make him weak.

and when he's out to find you after going through every single diary, every entry, after deducing that there's still a small spark in your that'll forgive him if he tries; he refuses give up any sooner if it meant replicating the same warmth he felt when he stood by your presence.

so... you wouldn't want to leave your youngest brother waiting for you, don't you?

after all, it's just like what your entries told him, right? this is what you always wanted, right?

a/n: everyone is entitled to their own feelings about how i portray damian and mc's relationship!!! i love how all of you guys have different conflicting reactions to this. it's all so complex for me, how damian sees you as someone who's weak and makes him weak (he's just a stubborn little guy), and you, who sees yourself in damian, alongside the added desire to just have someone to care for (because you want to so badly honor your mother's memory), and that person also caring for you is ARGH!!?!

i apologize for my long rambles (if anyone wants me to cut back on posts like this, just tell me), i'm sure everyone is anticipating chapter 5 and possibly (soon) chapter 6 (since the drafts, not the final work is becoming too long). but right now, all i could provide are my depictions of the reader's relationship with every member of the family. i love to churn scenarios where it feels like you're actually part of the family so i'm actually manipulating all of you guys to become attached to the characters too, just to add an extra layer of angst, hehe...

[darkbluekies]

Be good for me

Yandere!doctor OC (husband) x reader

Summary: Someone has left an anonymous tip about a certain someone in Kry's house, causing the police to stop by to ask some questions

Warnings: poison, toxic household, manipulation, toxic parents,

Word count: 1.8k

Dr Kry wets the cloth and cleans the counter, trying his best to stay calm. Their voices don't want to leave his head. They're banging through his skull.

“Let us in! We haven't traveled all this way for you to turn us away at the door!”

“I didn't ask you to come.”

“We shouldn't have to ask. We raised you for eighteen years. You owe us this.”

“I owe you nothing.”

He shouldn't have opened the door from the beginning. Would have saved himself from a lot of headache and anger.

He has just baked two sourdough loaves to get his itching fingers under control. They are now resting under a towel, waiting for the oven to get his mind off of everything. You are sleeping soundly upstairs, and when you wake up there will be fresh bread straight out of the oven specifically for you. The familiar itch in his hands comes back. That must have been the worst thing. That they saw you. And their stares towards you. He knew that they would look at you that way. I knew that you couldn't do better.

He stops in his tracks and presses his knuckles against his temple. He squeezes his eyes shut. His fingers are itching again. He wants to kill them. He should have. But you were there. God, he could never do such a thing knowing that you are nearby.

A knock on the front door brings him back to reality. He feels a shiver run down his spine as his suspicions levels rise. Closest neighbor lives a kilometer away and he's never seen them. Who would want something from him?

He gives the stairs to the second floor a quick look to make sure that you haven't awoken to come see who's at the door before he walks over to the front door and unlocks it. Two men in uniform meet his eyes. Cops?

“Good day”, one of them says.

“Good day”, Dr Kry answers, trying his best not to sound suspicious. “What can I help you with?”

“We have gotten an anonymous notice about someone in this house and we would need to come in and search.”

They’re talking about you, it must be. He already knows who has given them this “anonymous hint” and it makes his blood boil. But he can’t refuse them entry. They’ll know right away that he has done something. Better to play along and not give them a reason to distrust him.

I will deal with mother and father later.

“Of course, come in”, he says and opens the door for them.

His heart beats in his chest. He gives the stairs a quick look. Don't wake up.

“Are you home alone?” one of the policemen asks.

He can’t lie because what will he say if they find you? They will be suspicious of him.

“No, my spouse”, he says and feels how his throat dries out at the mention of you.

Now you are out in the open. He can’t take it back now.

“Where is your spouse?”

“Upstairs. They're sleeping.”

“We would like to speak with them as well.”

And I would like to kill you. He nods quickly.

“They’re sick”, he says stiffly. “I don’t want them to strain their body by physical exertion.”

“They can still be in their bed, we just want to talk to them”, they reassure.

Dr Kry swallows a deep, frustrated sigh. He refuses to wipe his sweaty palms. They will pick up on it immediately. He is about to fold his arms over his chest, but they will recognize that too. Kry glances towards them.

He walks upstairs with them behind him. He opens the door to the bedroom and walks towards your shared bed. You look absolutely wonderful sleeping on your side — the right side — of the bed. Dr Kry shakes you gently until your tired eyes flutter open. They look at him in confusion, and then at the men in uniforms in fear. He takes your hand, squeezing tightly, warningly.

“We’re sorry for waking you”, one of the cops says. “We just need to ask you some questions.”

Your wonderful eyes look at him, looking for reassurance. Dr Kry’s heart tightens. They’re scaring you. His heart can't take it, but what can he do? He should remain as normal as he can for as long as possible. Shouldn't do anything dumb.

“It’s okay”, he whispers. “They’re not here to hurt you. I won't let it.”

“What kind of questions?” you ask quietly.

Your tone is just enough careful and distrusting. His good girl/boy.

“Just some simple ones”, the cop answers.

Dr Kry squeezes your hand again, letting you know what to answer. It's not one of those hard ‘keep your mouth shut’ squeezes, but more of a ‘go ahead, it'll be okay’.

“Could you step outside while we ask questions, Mr Kry?”

He wants to scream. This can't be happening! Instead, he nods. He squeezes your hand once again. Watch your mouth.

You watch him leave and gulp. The cops turn to you.

“What's your name?” one asks.

“Y/N”, you reply in the same uncertain tone as before. “W-What is going on?”

“We're here to ask you some questions.”

You haven't done anything. You couldn't have. You've been here day out and day in!

“About what?” you hesitate to ask.

“We got an anonymous tip about a woman/man being mistreated here by doctor Karl Kry. We came to talk to you.”

Their words make you go cold. Scared that he will somehow be able to read your thoughts, when Dr Kry hasn't been nearby you have allowed yourself to imagine a scenario like this. But even fantasizing about it when he hasn't been home has felt sinful, scared that he somehow has been able to put a camera in your brain and know what you're thinking. He would be angry if he knew how much you've wished for a miracle like this.

And happy if he knew how hesitant you are now. What says that they will believe you if you tell the truth? Who says that they will take you with them here and now? If he knows that you've said something he will be angry. He will hurt you, make sure you will never talk to a cop again.

And if you leave him you might not be cured from this repulsive poison.

He walks back and forth, feeling nauseous. What if they take you away from him? Will he have to kill both of them here? In front of you? The thought is sickening. He can't kill them when you're watching. But what will happen if he does kill them? Do other cops know that they're here? Will they send more if they notice that they never came back? Kry can’t kill everyone.

Be good for me. Don't do it, please. I will reward you if you keep your mouth shut. I will be so good to you if you just do me this one favor.

The door opens and the cops walk out. Dr Kry hurries to stop and pretends to be unconcerned. The two cops walk out. He can hear you cry behind them and before he can think clearly, he pushes past them and marshes over to you, grabbing your shoulders.

What have you told them? He wants to shout.

He tries to look in your eyes to see if they're drenched in guilt or fear, to know if you have betrayed him or not. They're full of sorrow and regret … but neither fear nor guilt. He hugs you tightly. Your fingers dig deliciously into his waist.

“I think it's time for you to leave now”, Dr Kry says coldly over his shoulder. “You've upset my darling. I need to take care of them.”

The cops give no response. Dr Kry cups your cheeks, makes you look at him.

“Did you tell?” he whispers inaudibly to the cops.

He already knows that you haven't, but he needs the satisfaction of you audibly confirming it.

“No”, you sob quietly and shake your head in his hands.

He breathes out and gives you a small smile as his thumbs caress your wet cheeks. His neck bends down to kiss your nose.

“I'll show them out”, he says.

His big hands let you go. He leaves the room and follows the cops out to the stairs. Just a few minutes ago he would have wanted nothing less than to push them down. Kry can't relax yet. He needs to see their car start and hear their engine tune out before he can lock the door and feel that everything is over. That he won again.

The cops stop at the front door. One of them turns to him.

“You're a doctor, correct?” he asks.

“Yes”, Kry replies.

“What is wrong with your spouse?”

He hates the word ‘weird’ in the same sentence as you. Nothing is wrong with you. He decides not to argue about the term, and doesn't want them to stay any longer. Instead, he gives them a diagnosis that is similar to what he has caused you, just in case they decide to research it. It feels like hours before they let him off the hook and finally, finally leave. Dr Kry waits by the door and listens for the police car disappearing through the forest. He closes the door, locks it and breathes out.

He glances towards the stairs and runs up to you. You're crying into your hands. Dr Kry sighs and sits down on the bed, watching you with a heavy heart. The worst thing is that he understands how you're feeling. You wanted to tell them — you had a golden opportunity — but you didn't because you were afraid of what he'd do to you and the cops in case it failed. He hesitates before taking you in his arms. He rests your trembling body against his.

“It's okay”, he whispers. “You did the right thing. I'm so proud of you. You don't need to cry.”

“I- … I-”, you sob, not knowing what exactly it is that you want.

Dr Kry starts to rock you back and forth, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“I know, I know”, he coos softly. “It's okay.”

“I just want to sleep”, you whisper.

“You can sleep. I will go check on the sourdough bread.”

He lets you go and wipes your tears. Before he leaves, he tucks you in and turns on some white noise. Kry picks up his phone as he walks downstairs. He doesn't have any of their numbers saved and have done his best to forget them. But if he knew his parents phone numbers, would he call?

His fingers are itching again. If he gets the chance, he will kill his parents, he's sure of that. This could have ended differently and it would be all their fault. He doesn't want to imagine the other endings. Dr Kry opens the oven, ducks away from the scorching hot mist welling out, and takes out the sourdoughs loafs. The urge to kill doesn't go away and he knows his fingers will be itching for a long time. Until he gets his hands on his mother and father.

[toxycodone]

ship. captain grant mccurley (curly) x reader

content. general hcs + sfw + romantic

an. hehe u guys know i love doing these big ass hc posts to like. characterize and get a feel for how I write for characters sooo yaaaay enjoy this

general curly hcs (feat. the Tulpar crew near the end)

as much as I love scottish/irish/british curly,,,,he is american born. HEAR ME OUT. his parents/grandparents are immigrants buuuut this man is all american (where it counts ig).

he's from Colorado! his family mostly lives around there/mid america. He grew up playing a lot of winter sports (hence his love for it). As a kid he played ice hockey for sure and lost a tooth. there's a polaroid at his mom's place with him smiling happily after a game with a bloodied tooth in between his fingers

but as a pre-teen/teen he moved to the south. somewhere around the mid-south/mississippi basin. as sad as he was to leave Colorado behind, he latched onto southern culture sooo fast. I am a huge southern transplant Curly believer.

And this is when he meets jimmy. They went to 8th grade and high school together. After witnessing Jimmy's terrible ass home life, curly kinda latches onto him. It's a weird mix of being way too empathetic, his savior complex, and just desire to be useful/helpful/etc.

Jimmy basically lived with Curly his junior and sophmore years of high school. His household was abusive and terrible so Curly's own parents let him "sleep over". He has his own toothbrush, loofa, shower products, etc at Curly's. He didn't even ask for them either, Curly and his dad got them out shopping once.

^ Jimmy is thankful but oh my GOD does he resent curly for having such an unproblematic home life. curly has vented about his parents being too overprotective or something before and jimmy lashes out at him for it (oof)

Curly sticks up for Jimmy way. too. much. As much as he cares, it's actually kinda toxic. Curly never lets Jimmy face the consequences of his own actions, downplays all his shit, doesn't take the warning signs Jimmy clearly exhibits...he kinda acts as a barrier to Jimmy growing up and learning to be himself alone.

And on the other hand, Jimmy is way to enabling of this. It's easy. Simple. He latches onto Curly and like. feels threatened by any new friends, romantic interests, etc.

when Curly starts working for the Pony Express (an actual REAL career that takes Curly away from Jimmy)...Jim spirals. yeah.

He goes to jail. and when Curly gets back from his haul, the first thing he does is bail him out, co sign shit for him, etc. So again, Jimmy doesn't face the consequences of his actions. (and we see how that plays out in game...)

BUT YEAH. Jimmy is a mississippi native and he and curly do so much country ass shit together. hand fishing for catfish, mudding, hunting, all that jazz. they are avid rodeo fans too. Curly goes every year (he's tried to compete. broke his wrist doing those calf cathcing/tie down things i think)

Curly and the Tulpar crew have been together for a handful of hauls. (I mean in-game dialogue suggests this too). Knowing people that long means he's a well respected captain and they're kinda a little family!

Swansea is tough to work with, but actually respect's curly. This is bc Curly skirts by the typical PE rules, but not in a bad way. He's really adamant about safety and following protocol, which Swansea respects (although it's annoying). But the 5 hours of rest rule? Curly thinks that's ridiculous. As long as the work is being done, Curly doesn't count break time. So there's plenty of blankets or pillows lying around the common room in case anyone needs a nap on one of the couches. Curly also advises everyone have a blanket and pillow in their work areas during shifts for "comfort" (it's just code for everyone to catch some sleep outside of the time they spend in their quarters).

Curly also makes sure they have game nights + shared meals +etc. He counts these as "meetings" or "team building exercises" when sending reports to corporate.

Curly and Anya haven't been together too long compared to the others. The Tulpar haul is her second haul with Curly, but they've known each other for at least 3+ years and are pretty comfortable with each other. Curly made sure she felt as comfortable as possible being the only girl on their team. (well. yknow. until that ultimately gets tested.) But I think Anya and Curly aren't extremely close which explains why she doesn't immediately come to him w issues + why Curly doesn't deal w Jimmy in a harsher way (it's a combination of Curly being sleep deprived, favoring Jimmy, and ultimately his own paranioa and shortcomings. Curly has a real problem confronting Jimmy bc of his past w lashing out).

Curly is an insomniac. Not on Earth, but on hauls most definitely. He has a lot of anxiety about hauls (which he chalks up to being "normal") and the monotony of them drives him crazy. He's constantly a little sleep deprived.

He picked up weight lifting as a hobby on hauls bc cardio is like. impossible on that ship and it makes him feel good. <3 When he doesn't have access to the gym he does pull ups on loose bars on the Tulpar and stuff lol. He has a few weights and crap though. And that Pony Express brand protein powder is hella useful for cutting.

sfw + romantic

Oh he most definitely doesn't have a partner on earth. It's why he's facing his mid life crisis shit because he's like my god. all this work and status and nothing to show for it wtf. I think he really wants to have a relationship, but most people don't want to put up with the fact he's gone for about a year or so. off planet. with little communication.

On the Tulpar he keeps it in his pants. Curly is a professional and does his best to continue acting that way. But no one really comes onto him anyways? (if they did. my God I think he would be very weak to it.)

He has rizz. Like. Mr. Grant McCurley can fucking flirt like a champ. If he wants you he will make it clear. Ask you out for drinks. Then pay at the end. He makes it clear he's not expecting anything either?? Total southern gentleman shi

Insists on only giving a cheek kiss after the first date too like sheeesh (he's playing the waiting game with you. trying to keep you wanting HIM yeah he's good).

I like to think he's more traditional when it comes to romance like...dates weekly or bi weekly. Gives you flowers and chocolates and stuff. He actively pursues you and its soooooo <3333

No sex until at least after the third or fourth date too like. AGAIN. WAITING GAME. wants you to initiate that stuff (but he'll give hints like putting his hand on your knee and letting it trail up your thigh. YEAH)

He's the type who is always planning his life with you in it. Like, he's gotta have your fave snacks/drinks in his pantry/fridge. You have your own stuff at his apartment before you move in (that he bought, btw. he takes note when he visits ur place). His apartment feels like your home away from home. <3

He definitely rubs his stubble on you to annoy you when he gives you hugs. ewwww i hate men (im lying)

ok idk what else to write but. he used to use old spice but now uses a calvin klein cologne that man smells GOOD ASF

ok thats all i got enjoy

[princessbrunette]

⊹ ᜊ(ᜊ ´ ˘)੭ ♡ … HOT TO GO! ♡

5, 6, 5678!

the day had come — and of course, at the busiest hour of pizzadeliveryboy!popes shift. they still had this janky red landline phone from the 80’s in the kitchen of the restaurant, with possibly the most obnoxious ring one could fathom. like, really — it was no wonder these things weren’t household items anymore. the sound was ear piercing.

popes too busy sprinkling cheese to pick up — so you’re greeted with a disinterested thirty-something year old who barely got out his ‘you’ve reached HTG Pizza how can i help ya—” before you were blasting his ear off with—

“PUT POPE ON THE PHONE!”

you had broken up with your boyfriend. one year of toxicity, pain and torment all in the name of saving face. kook life was cruel, and appearance so often mattered more than feeling — and though your boyfriend treated you terribly… the life was safe and sweet.

maybe you were the cruel one for making pope wait. he’d been too patient for his own good— watching you try to uphold your perfect reputation whilst confiding in him on the side. he knew you were a sweet girl, simply making a bunch of not so sweet choices, and pope would never condone cheating — but soon the two of you started fooling around, which lead to you screwing around (which is just fooling around without dinner.) and just like that, he’d caught feelings.

he’d do anything to break the two of you up. no really — the term ‘praying on someone’s downfall’ was never something that the heyward boy was familiar with until he met you. it started off as petty things, reporting every instagram picture of the two of you together. this quickly evolved into sending you check in texts at angel number hours like 11:11, so that maybe you’d think some divine figure was trying to guide the two of you together. terribly enough, he even dragged kiara down to that crystal shop downtown so he could ask the nice lady with pretty feathers in her hair what crystal he could use to break you up with your boyfriend.

kiara told him in was bad karma to pray on peoples downfall.

but now he’s cycling to your house, your empty house might he mention and all but dumping his bike on your front lawn because for once it doesn’t matter who sees. hell, he even ripped off the uniform visor on his head and tossed it. you’re there at the door waiting for him under the warm porch light in just a skirt and bra like you’d already worked on getting your clothes off for him.

“i’m so sorry i had to finish my shift i obviously would have come as soon as—” he’s rambling before he’s reached you, but you’re shaking your head with a purely lustful look in your eye, breathing out a—

“— shut up.”

and as soon as he’s reached you you’re diving into his arms, legs round his waist — lips to his and you really, really didn’t care who saw. you fumble for the door anyway, the two of you bumping into things as you slam it shut behind the two of you. he takes his lips away just for a second to suck in a breath and whisper “i didn’t bring any pizza this time—” but you clearly didn’t care, stuffing your tongue back into his mouth. well, that settles that. it was never about the pizza.

every surface. pope heyward was doing you on every flat surface of that egregiously large house of yours — and soon, after much loud and bordering on aggressive sex, you’ve finally wound up on your back in bed, staring into eachothers eyes as he rolls his hips, little “ohhh, ah, ah…”’s leaving your sore and sensitive mouth.

“god i’m so glad to have you now. i can have you now, right?” popes brows furrow, looking desperate and urgent. the two of you had sweat so much he doesn’t even smell like stuffed crusts and garlic dip anymore.

“was always yours. m’sorry pope i’m so sorry!” you sob when the curve in his cock nudges your cervix because he can’t help but bottom out fully when you say it. he kept anticipating that he’d wake up to his alarm and this had all been a beautiful dream, reminding him to hang on just another day.

“you’re okay i— i’d wait forever for this. fuck.” he shudders, face dropping for a moment to press an earnest kiss to your collar bone.

“can i tell you something?” you grasp him, speaking in a hushed tone, saved for a vulnerable moment like this.

“anything!” he promises, back to eye level.

“i…i really don’t like the pizza you’d bring, i mean papa johns is just way better—”

“no yeah that’s completely understandable. i mean totally—”

you’re rolling him onto his back now. the undying urge to make up for lost time taking over and instantly you’re sinking down onto his length and grinding like your life depended on it.

“shit. oh my god.” he groans, dishevelled in your pink sheets. a hand comes to his forehead in disbelief at the sight of your naked body riding him like this, so different from your usual rushed encounters before anyone returns home or in the back of his pizza fan — and the other thumb grazes your clit, eyes glued to the way you’re swallowing him, leaving a creamy ring at his flushed base.

you follow his gaze, reaching down to spread yourself for him. quite the sight.

“who’s is it?” he presses your clit and you howl, clutching his wrist. “who’s baby? tell me please.”

“yours pope!” you cry.

“who’s?”

“s’all yours pope! it always was!”

perhaps he knew this already, but god did it feel good to hear.

[newkatzkafe2023]

I want something to do with portal-portal2 but my brain cannot think of anything that could put wukong into it 😭😭

If it springs you any ideas like of Y/N that is either Chell, Weatley or even Glados I'll take it 😆

GLADOS IS MY FAVORITE CHARACTERS I LOVE HER ATTITUDE DISPITE BEING AN A.I🤩

(Lmk Wukong) When you first met during the journey to the west, is when Wukong took note of your passive aggression. You were harsh and cruel to everyone around you and had no problem putting others in danger, and almost killing people. That caused you to clash with Wukong alot who was learning to be a better person, until he accidentally got a glimpse into your life. Which he started to understand and tried to help you overcome your personal trauma, though it took a long time and well you started to see him as somebody hard to kill and Wukong decided to change your mind.

(NR Wukong) Well.....you know the term test monkey because that's what you do alot, and it took him some time to notice. You would think this pissed him off and it did....at first, but this is probably the most attention he's ever got from you. It was super easy to trick him and it felt like all you had to do was tie a beer bottle to a rope and dangle it infront of him. However Wukong is also intelligent in his own right and mostly turn your dangerous puzzles into fun mini games, and excise routines basically patronizing you. You would low-key growl and huff as you would leave him with your test notes, Wukong finds it adorable how his cold wifey-poo tries to kill him with science and household items your marriage has never been so lively.

(MKR Wukong) My god, the sarcastic remarks you both would exchange would make everyone go crazy. You're both bitter, irritable, cold, violent, and gentle in neither of your vocabularies. How you would make passive-aggressive comments and mildly harsh insults towards each other, not to mention how neither of you are against killing your enemies. However, you both do little subtle acts of affection and kindness for each other, like Wukong sharing his food, and you would bake little peach cupcakes for him to eat. You both are dangerously protective of each other, and with that, you both became less of the deadly couple and more of a passive-aggressive, tsundere married couple.

(HIB Wukong) Oh goodness your relationship looks kinda toxic, from the outside looking in but it's not the case really. It's just..before you both got together you both had treated each other coldly and harshly, only cause Wukong had put up his walls and your dry cutthroat insults and sarcasm. It wasn't until Luier and Silly girl had entered your lives and you both had to put aside your bullsh*t to take care the kids. Your gentler side comes out when you bonded with Luier over puzzles and knowledge, so you would make kid friendly test for them to do. Over time you both learned to love each other with the help of your unusual little family.

(Netflix Wukong) Ohhhhhhhhh man I feel he would be the most passive aggressive Monkey on this list, so their will be alot of back and forth. Your harsh monotone Voice brings back bitter terrible memories, but what's interesting is that you don't judge him nor rebuke his bad behavior. However you still passive aggressively insult him and comment on his acts and Impulses, you would also roll your eyes at best. Though you do have a gentler side to you as you would act as a listening ears and would bake him a cake as an act of remorse for when you get out of line for him. In otherwords you love Wukong it's just you have a....funny way of showing it.

(BMW Wukong) Oh boi you admittedly picked the wrong one, especially when he can mouth off to you without hesitation. He had heard about you from Erlang Shen about you were offing people in the form of tests or puzzles, and well....the after math was.....messy. When Wukong finally were a little manipulative and incredibly dangerous, as you only saw him as another test subject and took him to your test sight. However Wukong either breezed though the tests or completely destroyed it, and it really tried your patience. It guess worse when you dubbed him as difficult to kill and called him a genocidal armored lunatic and told him never to comeback, oh if only it was that easy....

(Destined one) First of all who the hell do you think you are???🤨 the Destined one would not take your bullsh*t at all, like all you do is try to trick him into doing tests like a god damn lab rat. Then you would have the gall to go and passive aggressively insult him to his blank face, like you seriously get on his nerves and that doesn't happen very often. Now he won't ever fight you but he will be spiteful when it comes to your little tests, and if the Destined one ever spoke. I feel like the Destined one's insults and harsh comments would cut deeper then yours ever could, and that's probably why your interested in him and you wanna know what makes him tick. You never expected to marry him though, but that's a different test result for another time.

(Lotmk Wukong) Now i feel he wouldn't ever notice your cold monotone murderous and tricky disposition, and he naturally loves and cares about you without condition. Everybody would usually go mad trying to figure out why Wukong would look at you like you hung the moon. He also loves listening to you talk because he thinks your voice is pretty, even when you're currently roasting him. Though you would show your affection for him by singing soft opera songs to him and baking a cake for him............ it must be nice to have rose-colored glasses glued to his face.

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG🤖

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Help, I reincarnated as the Female Lead’s Sister-in-Law!

Chapter 4

Story Masterlist

'Slight' Yandere! Dion Agriche x Reader

Arranged marriage AU

SOME SPOILERS FROM THE NOVEL ABOUT JEREMY'S MOM

Warnings: possible slight yandere themes, slight incestual themes due to the content of “Roxana”, implied toxic marriage/relationship, slightly suggestive, implied suicide, slight themes of jealousy, mention of murder, vomit, Reader is a fangirl for Roxana, everyone is out of character I gave up in trying to keep them in character completely, Possible slight possessive themes, and maaayyybbee implied stalking. It’ll make more sense as the series goes on.

DISCLAMIER: I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE HARMFUL AND DANGEROUS ACTIONS AND/OR BEHAVIORS THAT MAY TAKE PLACE IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION. THESE ACTIONS/BEHAVIORS SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED NOR ROMANTICIZED AS THEY ARE BOTH EXTREMELY TOXIC AND DANGEROUS.

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS/BLOGS THAT DO NOT REBLOG FAN ART OR FANFICTION DNI. PLEASE DO NOT SPAM LIKE MY POSTS.

===

 You didn’t dream about anything. You don’t even feel rested.

So, of course, Hana decided to cake your face in foundation to hide the dark circles under your eyes. How thoughtful, truly. Although, it would have been more thoughtful of her if she lied and said you were sick. But no, instead you’re grabbing onto the bed post as she tightens the corset.

This is almost worse than your wedding night.

Your organs are being squeezed to death and you bite your tongue, not willing to scream bloody murder. It wasn’t a pride thing, you promise – you just didn’t want to look too weak in front of anyone in this household. You didn’t want to be looked down on too much.

“Gah!”

“I’m sorry, my lady. Hm…” Hana ponders over something before saying, “I’ll loosen it. Just a bit.” And as she said she loosens the strings. Just enough to where your organs weren’t squashed together. You release a breath once you gain some breathing room.

God, please, have some pity and let Dion stand me up… and for no-one else to join me. Please, please, please!

You beg internally. The best outcome would be for one-one to show up. The worst…Lant, Maria and or Fontaine decide to, antagonizing you. Yeah, you think. Maybe Dion showing up wasn’t the worst.

Hopefully, anyway. Otherwise, you might vomit on the spot. Everything sucks. Why can’t he just leave you be. But you start thinking about it. Maybe Lant ordered his favorite son to have dinner with you. To show dominance over you, maybe?

Sounds like something Lant would tell Dion. That bastard is unable to see past his ass.

“Hana, by any chance… do you know if it’s only Dion that’s showing up?” You ask, praying that her answer will be ‘yes.’ You could probably handle your husband. If he keeps to himself, if that strange, awful look in his eye doesn’t appear. Hah. Actually, it’s just probably in your head - the stress is getting to you, eating you alive.

But Lant?

No, no way in hell.

“Well… yes.” She finishes fixing the corset before dressing you in the dress you picked out. It wasn’t anything flashy, just a simple design. Chest covered with long sleeves that end in small ruffles. The dress ends a bit above your feet. Black in color, Hana chose maroon heels to go with it.

But the material was softer than your usual dresses. Far more expensive, too – your family wasn’t poor by any means. However, this single dress just shows how much the Agriche family holds wealth in high regard. You guess it only makes sense – they didn’t play nice and fair.

Their money was dirty money. And that fact makes your skin crawl, feeling dirty just for wearing these clothes. Lant had all the clothes you brought with you thrown out. Most likely to say, ‘Hey! Look at me, taking care of my daughter-in-law! Can’t you see how thoughtful we are about spending so much money on her?’

How laughable.

How egotistical.

You want nothing more than to set fire to these clothes. They are nothing more than a show of ownership. Like you were a pet.

No. You are a pet. Lant’s to be specific – and he’s just letting Dion play with you. Your husband only took the leash because he was ordered to. Nothing more, nothing less. That’s the only reason he married you. 

But how long until he gives you back to his father? If he decides you’re nothing but a hassle? Found you to be so boring compared to Roxana? Until he grew tired of his mother questioning him about your every move, nagging him to show up with you?

What about public events? You know that Lant likes to bring Dion and Roxana with him – they are his ‘trophies’ after all. But you? Then again, people would start to talk if Dion Agriche’s wife never made a public appearance. Word has traveled across the country by now, wondering how grand the wedding was.

How you looked. If you are love birds or if you are a victim of threats. If your parents sold you off to pay their debts.

…why did they marry you off? 

Were they in debt? You start to bite your thumb nail, eyes narrowing, deep in thought. Why did they marry me off?

“- lady?” Hana calls out, making you jump in your seat a bit. Wait. When did she start doing your hair? Hell, when did you even take a seat?

“My lady?” She addresses you again, looking at you through the mirror. She doesn’t stop brushing your hair. She’s gentle with it. “Are you okay?” She asks out of obligation.

Ah, right, you should reply.

“Y-yes… forgive me, I was just…” thinking about how Lant will kill you, “lost in my thoughts.”

“I see.”

The room goes quiet. You look at your reflection in the mirror. You don’t look like yourself. You look haggard, adorned in precious jewels that bring out the color in your eyes, only to be fearful. Your completion looks artificial due to the heavy layer of foundation that barely covers your dark circles.

You look like a lost, helpless lamb.

You practice smiling.

“Hana?”

“Yes, my lady?”

“How convincing does my smile look?”

She turns her attention from your hair to your reflection. She doesn’t answer at first. Rather, she stares hard, tilting her head only to shake it. “No. But it’s only going to be master Dion. Master Lant is on a business trip. So, rest assured; he won’t… um, care.”

She’s soft with her reply, like she didn’t want to offend you. Not like you cared – if he doesn’t look your way then it’s a good day. Even better if he keeps his mouth shut except for a greeting and a goodbye. If he bothers with it anyway.

You hope he doesn’t.

“I see.” You shouldn’t get your hopes up, though. He gave you advice despite leaving after consummating your marriage. He was somewhat thoughtful during it too, and if you think about it harder, he almost seemed…possessive. And during the engagement party, he was mostly with Lant. And at your wedding he was, once again, with Lant. But… you did feel someone staring holes into your back during both events.

Was it him, you wonder.

“And with that, we are done, my lady.” Hana’s good with her hands – you look pretty. If you ignore your haggard face. And tired eyes.

“Thank you, Hana. It’s lovely.” You compliment her genuinely. And for once, a true sweet smile paints your lips. She looks away after seeing it through the reflection. You see the tips of her ears turn pink, however.

To think she had a cute side.

“Thank you, my lady. But I only enhanced your natural beauty.” Apparently, she’s also a charmer.

“Still,” you turn around to look at her, feeling some peace within you, “you did wonderfully.” You were never good at giving compliments, but hopefully she knows you mean it. This feels normal. You don’t want it to end. You don’t want to leave this room. You don’t want to see your husband.

- - -

Dion doesn’t even look flustered once he sees your figure walking towards the table. Hana called you beautiful – he makes you feel less. While he doesn’t look at you in disgust, he also doesn’t look at you in awe. But rather, like a curious animal - one that couldn’t keep their thoughts in bay.

However, it quickly disappears under a layer of indifference. It happened so quickly you think it was the trick of an eye. You don’t keep eye contact.

You glance around the room after greeting him – just you, him, and Hana. The good outcome. The best outcome would be that no-one showed up.

Okay, you tell yourself. You’re on the battlefield. Your opponent is Dion Agriche. Not the worst enemy…probably, but a strong and brutal one regardless. As long as you don’t anger or annoy him, you should be fine. Hopefully.

You take your seat across from him, quiet as a mouse. Should you start a conversation? Wait for him to start one? Or just keep the heavy silence that’s suffocating you? How… How does he feel?

You’re curious but not suicidal.

No words are exchanged as a servant serves the food. Only the clinking of your cutlery against your plates echoes in the room. Your stomach can’t stop churning and your mouth feels dry. Every piece of food you swallow feels like it’s choking you.

Even when you drink the water it doesn’t help. Even so, you push through – you had to. Show little to no weakness to your husband who holds no attachment to you. Not that you can talk, of course. He’s nothing more than a dangerous stranger to you.

… how much more of this damn silence can you take? Your eyes won’t leave your plate. And that’s when you notice, it’s a light meal. Chickpea pasta salad. It’s a normal meal, but it just feels… weird to see it here. Ah then again, maybe they thought you couldn’t handle something heavy - and they would be right. If it wasn’t light then… 

You would have thrown up otherwise.

Out of curiosity you glance up at Dion to see if he had the same meal. He did and your shoulders relax. Maybe he liked it. Yeah, that’s it – why would he be considerate? Everything else that just so happened to be convenient for you? Maria’s words?

It was and meant nothing. That or you’re going crazy already.

Your attention returns to your plate. It’s nearly gone. Good, even though you feel like you might choke on it. You need to ask Hana for more indigestion medicine after this. Oh, right.

You should probably ask him about… that.

“D-Dion, I was wondering- “

“Wow! The bastard is spending time with his victim?”

An unexpected guest has arrived.

You wince at the sound of your younger brother-in-law, Jeremy. Your grip on your fork also becomes loose, dropping onto your plate. The clatter is loud. You didn’t expect him of all people to make a surprise appearance. Especially when Dion is involved - you would like to think that boy would avoid him, avoid you.

But, to show himself so clearly and readily… 

Still, he’s better than Lant. As long as he doesn't pick a fight with his older half-brother. And for your sake, you hope he doesn’t. Wait.

… at the wedding he could barely keep his mouth shut. Lant and Roxana had to shut it for him. Ah… is he going to pick a fight? Here in the dining room? Oh boy… I don’t want to be here…

Wait, did he just call you a victim?

“Jeremy.” Dion ‘greets’ him but it’s clear that his younger brother’s appearance annoys him. “I see that you’re loud as always.” After that, Dion goes back to eating. Like his number two hater didn’t crash the dinner. Hopefully his number one hater won’t show up –

“Jeremy, I thought we’ve been over this.” A soft, feminine yet firm voice calls out to the youngster. You can recognize that voice anywhere.

Your heart rate picks up as butterflies soar in your chest. Your cheeks feel warm – a fluffy, sweet haze takes over your mind. It’s as lovely as when you first heard it at your engagement party. But you don’t feel worthy enough to view the beauty that is Roxana Agriche.

Still, you can’t resist the urge to peek.

 Soft wavy golden hair that ends below her waist, her bangs framing her slightly pointy face. Big ruby eyes with golden lashes that see through you. One of her dainty hands rubs Jeremy’s head. It’d be a lie to say you weren’t slightly jealous.

But you know that you should keep her at arm’s length. She’s not necessarily evil, but…

You don’t want to be caught up in her schemes, if she finds you useful. After all, being part of her plan doesn’t guarantee your safety. So, you’ll just admire her from afar, like a proper fangirl.

Heat crawls up from your neck to the tip of your ears when she returns your gaze. You think you might faint from happiness the moment she smiles at you sweetly. You greet your in-laws, but a hole is being burned into your person. Who’s staring?

“It’s been a while,” again you don’t know how to address your in-laws. But you do a curtsy after rising from your seat, hoping they don’t notice the shake in your voice. Beautiful or not, your favorite character is extremely dangerous. Still, it’s a dream come true to see her so soon.

“Hah! She has manners, unlike you, dickhead.” Jeremy exclaims. It’s funny. While you know he despises your husband, you do find it a bit surprising that he would bad mouth him in front of you. You’re also surprised to run into these two so early into your moving into this mansion.

Now, you should figure out a way to fade into the background. Maybe return to your room before things get out of hand.

“Jeremy, that’s not nice,” Roxana scolds without meaning it. If anything, she might find the show enjoyable. Unfortunately for you, it only makes you uneasy. She glances at you before turning her attention to the young boy. They’re not even that far apart in age – just a year.

Wait. No. Before being reincarnated Roxana was a college student. 

She was probably around your age.

You push that fact out of mind.

“But look at her! Does she look like she’s having the time of her life?” He points at you, unknowing or uncaring of how rude it could come across. You keep your trap shut, only smiling awkwardly before rebutting his very true accusation gently.

“Young master Jeremy,” that’s probably the best way to address him, “I’m completely fine. But thank you for your concern.” To be fair, you think, Dion probably doesn’t want to be here either.

You want to add ‘you’re sweet’ to your sentence but decide against it. It’s too intimate. Too friendly and casual. And you have a feeling your husband wouldn’t like that.

His attention hasn’t left you since Roxana came. Was he… jealous? That his sister was paying attention to you instead of him? Or did he find you unworthy of talking to her? Oh! Maybe he’s upset that you and Jeremy are here with him and Roxana.

…if true, it’s creepy.

“Blink twice if you’re being held hostage.” You consider it.

“Jeremy.” Roxana becomes sterner, her eyes narrowing at the said boy. “That’s enough.” He pouts, offering a small apology. But not before taking one last jab at Dion.

“Don’t be surprised if she jumps off the terrace.”

The room goes quiet. No one dares to speak. Even for Jeremy, that was too far. Although, you could understand where he was coming from… but you were not his mother. And hopefully, unlike her, you won’t completely break.

Not again.

Dion, as always, says nothing. In the story he would have. Sneer at him maybe. Or return the insult, but harsher. Was this Dion more mellow? You’re not sure. Rather, he hasn’t shown his brutal side around you the few times you’re together, even at the engagement party, the wedding, and your first night together. Even earlier today, he warned you about his mother.

Ignoring the sadistic looks from last night, Dion didn’t really… showed you his true personality. Just a few weird looks here and there.

Almost like he was repressing it.

You shake your head. That’s ridiculous. With a small huff, you respond to Jeremy’s jab. You shouldn’t, but he shouldn’t act like this.

For your safety. And maybe his. 

“Young master Jeremy,” you call him, not sure of what to say next. “…While I appreciate your concern, please do not jump to such conclusions.” You’re scared he’ll lash out at you. Honestly, you don’t know if he does worry about you or if he just wanted to rile up his older brother. Regardless, it’s probably best to draw a line.

Everyone needs one.

“She’s right, Jeremy,” Roxana takes your side, and you can’t help but swoon. Truly, she’s a goddess in some regards and devil in another. Hopefully, you pray, you’ll only see her sweet side, no matter how fake it is. “You should apologize – properly.”

The boy looks dejected that his favorite sister basically told him that Dion won’t be the worst husband. If anything, he most likely wanted Roxana to take you away from the favorite son – so that he won’t have anything. Not that it matters – Dion is only playing house until Lant tells him otherwise.

“I’m,” Jeremy forces the words out, unable to look you in the eye. It’s kind of cute, but you must remind yourself that murder means nothing to this fourteen-year-old boy. If Roxana were to tell him to kill you tomorrow, he would without second thought.

The shudder is hard to repress, hiding your fear with an awkward smile. No, you shouldn’t think about that. You shouldn’t, you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t -

“I’m sorry. Really. I was… out of line. I shouldn’t have said that to you, (N- name).” he stutters out your name like it was his first time hearing it. “But,” oh boy, you don’t like the way he’s looking - no, glaring  at Dion. And you don’t like how your husband glares back at the boy, either.

Roxana shares a look with you, as if saying ‘get the bastard out, now.’ But how were you supposed to do that!? You barely talk as is! Besides, why is she giving you this task - it’s not like you’re lovey-dovey with the man!

What are you supposed to do!? Beg him to leave with the promise of… no, you can’t do that again. You like living with working reproductive parts.

But… How could you refuse Roxana?

Oh. You’re already falling for her traps. You’ll work on that later, when there isn’t a one-sided bashing session between the two half-brothers.

You breathe in before calling out Dion’s name. “Why don’t we… why don’t we walk around…” you squeak, drowning in embarrassment. You probably look like a mouse to them. You hate the way he blinks at you.

“Why don’t we walk around the garden? I’ve been- “

“Hold up, do you really want to be alone with him- “

“Jeremy.” Your husband gets up from his seat and suddenly a knife cuts down the atmosphere. He sounds… pissed. He doesn’t raise his voice or anything; but that only makes it… worse. It’s hard to breathe and you can only watch as Dion stares at Jeremy.

You’re starting to fear for the boy’s safety.

Roxana looks like she was about to step in, clearly done with the entire situation until her older brother cuts her off. “At your age, acting out is just pathetic. Stop before you embarrass yourself further.”

Then, he looks at you with those fucking carmine eyes that gives off the impression that he knows more than he should. You feel naked, finally realizing something:

Dion Agriche is hiding something from you.

You’ve only ‘known’ him for a few months and spoken only a handful of times. But somehow, some way, he knows you. You feel like throwing up.

“I’ll see you in our room later.”

The moment he’s out of view, your dinner decides to come up. It was horrifying, throwing up in front of your in-laws. Especially Roxana.

And…

“See? I told you, Xana!”

Jeremy is also acting weird. Fuck, what’s even going on anymore? Can’t the characters stay, well, in character?

But hey, at the very least, you have the privilege of the ravishing beautiful Roxana helping you clean up after ordering Hana – she was standing to the side the entire time but couldn’t do anything – to bring some towels. Hopefully, Lant won’t hear of this…

… Please let me wake up home with a bug on my face.

[homiesexuallaj]

Request please

Eric (Bill Skarsgard) confronting your father and getting you out of toxic household, maybe some smut at the end ?? :)

ps. love your blog

Pairing: Eric Draven (2024) x reader

Genre/Warning: mommy-left core (cliche but we love it ngl), like some angst, fluff, abusive dad, hints at violence, small mention of blood, smut, oral (m receiving), bodily fluids, cum eating, some aftercare!!, a little twist at the end ;), kinda proofread

A/N: Thank you for the request and the compliment! Sorry it took a bit to get to, but here it is! Also, requests are closed for the moment!!

--- --- ---

Thank to the gods above that you lived in the era that you did. And thank the gods that you had a phone. You weren't ever sure what you would do if you lived in a different time than you did or if you didn't have a phone. How else would you be able to deal with your father and call for help when he came home in one of his moods?

Your father had gotten into these types of violent, belittling moods when you were younger. But after your mother left you both, he'd only gotten worse. Your father would always say he couldn't believe your mother left you with him and that he wish she took you with her. Now he had to take care of a spoiled brat such as yourself! The older you got, the worse he got, the drunker he came home. The hitting never stopped, though it had escalated from open-handed slaps to harsh nudges with a steel-toed boot to the stomach when you crumbled down to the floor.

Thank the gods you had Eric.

You'd met Eric one night after slipping out of your second-story bedroom window. You'd gone on a walk around town, despite it being dangerous. You'd told yourself anything was safer than your ticking time bomb of a father back home. You'd been apprehensive when Eric approached you, but after you determined he wasn't a threat you were more relaxed. He had asked why you were out so late. You'd only said you needed some fresh air, so not a total lie. Even if black and blue bruises colored your skin underneath the maroon-colored turtleneck you wore.

This happened a couple more times, Eric finding you wandering the streets alone and keeping you company before you two decided to officially become friends, exchange phone numbers, and hang out whenever either of you weren't busy. After hanging out for a few more times and going over to Eric's with a bruise that mimicked the midnight sky, you'd finally opened up to him about your father after his million questions. There and then, Eric practically demanded that you call or text whenever your father came home in "one of his moods."

And that's what you were doing now. Back pressed against the hallway bathroom door up on the second story of the house you lived in with your father and shaky hands listening to your phone dial Eric, who'd answered as soon as he saw your name on his phone screen.

"Eric?" Your voice was shaky. "My- my father!"

Your father banged on the locked bathroom door and jingled the knob, calling out and asking who you were talking to. That you better not be on the phone with that damn boy!

There were tears streaming down your face and down your neck, the wet skin tingling and tightening with goosebumps. You muffled a sob behind your hand and shuffled your feet against the door to brace yourself as the door shook.

"Gimme five minutes, sweetheart," Eric hurried, you could hear the jingling of something over the phone. "Just stay on the phone, 'kay?"

" 'kay," Your voice was small, shaky still.

Not even two minutes later, Eric spoke through the little words and phrases he told you through the phone, "Does your bathroom window open?"

"Y-yeah," You nodded even though your companion couldn't see you.

"Can you climb out the window?" He asked at the same moment you could hear the squeak of a screen door downstairs.

"Yeah," You answered.

" 'kay, you do that right now," Eric ordered. "I'm gonna hang up but I'm right there, promise. Okay? I love you."

Your breath hiccupped a bit as you made your way to the opposite wall of the bathroom and unlocked the window there, "Love you."

With that, the line went dead.

Your father was still yelling at you as you pushed the bathroom window open. The squeaking of the window sliding in the frame only made your father angrier, and the shaking of the door only built in ferocity. When you had a leg and a half out of the window, you could hear wood cracking, and the door to the bathroom burst open just as soon as you slipped out and down the side of the house, down the trellises that your mom had placed there many years ago.

When you made it to the safe, cold ground of your damp front lawn, you heard a commotion upstairs. You looked around. Eric was nowhere to be seen but the wooden front door to your house was wide open. You backed away, phone in hand still, and shuffled into the shadows of the tree in your front yard.

You waited, listening to the rather violent sounds coming from the upstairs bathroom window you escaped through. Eventually, it went silent and soon enough the front screen door to your house swung open.

There was Eric, wide eyes scanning the yard and metallic baseball bat in hand. The metal and Eric had just the tiniest bit of blood splattered on them, across his face, but minus the forming black eye on his face, Eric looked fine. Great even. When he'd spotted you, he relaxed and made his way to you.

You met him halfway, pulling him down to you in a suffocating hug with your arms wrapped around his neck. You'd cried into the black jacket he wore, tears and a little bit of snot staining the fabric. You thanked him repeatedly through sobs.

Eric held you back just as tight, even not tighter. The arm that the baseball bat was held in wrapped around your midback and his freehand held the back of your head, keeping you close for both his sake and yours. He held you for as long as you needed, until your crying subsided and you pulled away just slightly.

"Thank you," You said again, fisting away the water under your eyes and coating your cheeks. "I-I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Me neither, sweetcheeks," Eric looked down at you, his own eyes shiny despite the dark of the night and the shadow of the tree above you two. He still cradled the back of your head. "And, it's nothing. I'd do anything for you."

You nodded, sniffling. Your breathing hiccuped and shivered as you calmed down, trying to compose yourself a little bit.

"Let's go back to my place, yeah?" Eric offered, tilting his head.

You nodded, "Yeah."

Before you two started walking to Eric's place, Eric shucked off his black jacket and slid it up your arms and around your shoulders. He zipped it up and grabbed hold of your hand before you two fell into a natural step beside each other.

Back at Eric's place, he fed you a good, filling dinner. Afterward, he pushed you off towards the shower, promising to find you good pajamas.

You’d taken your time in the shower, washing your body, hair, and face with care. When you’d come out of your shower, you found pjs and a spare tooth brush on the bathroom counter. You dried off and dressed into the large t-shirt and baggy shorts. After, you brushed your teeth before finally exiting the bathroom.

Steam billowed out behind you and into the attached bedroom, casting you in an almost heavenly glow in the bathroom light before you flicked the switch off. You spotted Eric on the bed with a lack of blood splatter and in a change of clothes.

“C’mere,” Eric gave a few pats to his lap before holding his arms out, making a grabby motion with his hands.

You obeyed him, padding over to crawl over the top of him. You straddled Eric, sitting down softly and resting your hands on his stomach. You felt a little shy sitting here like this. You’d done it many times, but with the way Eric looked at you- you couldn’t help but feel shy.

“Always so shy..,” Eric murmured, grabbing at the nape of your neck to pull you down to him.

You let him, connecting your lips to his once you were close enough. You breathed out against his lips and as hummed against you. Your lips moved against his, and at the request of his tongue, you opened up and let Eric in.

Eric pressed his tongue against yours, drinking in your taste as he squeezed at your hips with his large hands. Slowly, ever so slowly, Eric made his way from your lips, over your cheek, along your jawline, and down the column of your neck. He left open mouthed kisses that had heat billowing underneath your skin, but as soon as you felt teeth you pulled away. Eric gave you a hazy but confused look.

It’s only when you made your way down Eric’s body, your hands following down his sides, did he realize what you were doing. It was only solidified when your fingers toyed with the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Oh sweetheart,” Eric mumbled, lifting his head to look down at you. “You don’t have to do that.”

“But I want to,” You told Eric, tugging down his sweats.

Eric let you, lifting his hips.

You pulled his sweats down to his mid-thigh. Eric’s already hard dick bounced up against his stomach as it snapped out from the confines of his boxers and sweats. The bulbous tip was an angry red and leaked with a shiny, clear liquid. A faint vein pulsed down the underside of his shaft.

Eric tensed when you grabbed the base of his cock, and hissed through his teeth when you leaned down to lick his sticky tip. His cheeks were flushed a pretty pink and he laid his head back on the pillow when you took Eric into you mouth.

As you set a steady pace of bobbing your head up and down Eric’s length, your hair kept getting in the way. You’d forgotten to tie it up and you’re regretting that now. Before you could take care of it, Eric took matters into his own hands. Quite literally. Eric gathered your hair up with both hands, before holding it all in one hands to keep it out of the way. With his free hand, he brushes away hair from your forehead.

You looked up at Eric, blinking at him appreciatively. You continued on in your ministrations, using a mix of suction and tongue. You’d twisted a hand along the slick length of cock you couldn’t cover with your mouth.

Before long, you could feel Eric’s thighs tensed under where you rested your free hand. He’d started involuntarily twitching and thrusting up into your mouth a bit too. When you looked up his way, you could see the scrunch of his eyebrows and his bottom lip between his teeth as he met your gaze.

“Shit, sweetheart,” Eric’s voice was low and rough. “Fuck- I’m -fuck- gonna-“

You’d only doubled down on your efforts when Eric let out breathy moans and you could feel the warm, thick liquid of his cum filling your mouth. You’d winced only a little as Eric’s grip on your hair tightened as his own orgasm washed over his body.

Eric moaned and thrusted shallowly into your mouth, arching his back a bit and pushing his pulsing cock into your mouth more. A string of curses left his mouth.

You’d only pulled away when Eric’s moans turned a bit higher in pitch and he twitched away from your hold. You sucked all the way up until you let Eric’s cock go with a “pop” of your mouth. You swallowed the salty, heady taste of Eric. The feel of him coated your throat all the way down to your stomach, making your esophagus sticky.

Gingerly, you pulled Eric’s boxers and sweats back up to their original place. You sat between Eric’s thighs, waiting on his recovery.

Finally, he opened his eyes.

“Thank you,” Eric’s voice was heavy and breathy.

“Anytime,” You smiled down at him.

You crawled up beside Eric, laying your head on his chest and throwing a leg over his thighs. You snuggled into him, breathing the scent of him in.

Eric reciprocated your cuddling immediately. He wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

You both laid there, basking in the feeling and warmth of each other.

——

You sat in the living room of a small, two story house that was fit for a family of three. The couch you sat on was comfy, and a mug of warm tea sat on the coaster on the coffee table in front of you.

Beside you, sat Eric with his own mug of tea.

Adjacent to you sat a woman in her own little arm chair. She sat on the edge, eyes alight as he looked at you.

“I’m so glad you got out,” The woman told you.

The woman and you held hands, facing each other and knees knocking.

“Me too, mom,” You smiled at her with shiny eyes. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I’m glad you’re okay,” The woman, your mom, responded with relief in her voice. “And I’m glad you had help.” Her eyes shifting to give Eric an appreciative look.

Eric gave a respectful nod of his head, slouching forward to not seem to tall and to not take up so much space in the small room.

“I’m sorry for leaving you,” Your mom apologized. “Your father, he- he wouldn’t let me have you. He threatened to kill me or you if I took you. I left you there to keep you alive. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, mom,” You squeezed her hands in yours. “It’s not your fault. I know that now.”

Your mom gave a thankful dip of her head.

Your father was dead now and you officially lived with Eric, your stuff lingering with his. You no longer had to deal with his abusive actions and belittling words.

You’d found your mom online after you recovered, and after the police investigation of your father’s death. You reached out and she was more than happy to reconnect. And so were you, honestly. You’d been more than enough time at your mom’s, well into the evening and through dinner time. It seemed she didn’t want to let you go, and you didn’t want to leave.

Finally, you had some calm in your life…

[moody-alcoholic]

Family

Now I will have a glass of wine and relax for the evening, because editing 2 chapters back to back was rough.

Summary: Ghoap x Reader, throuple. Slow burn (sorry but not sorry). 2.8k words. Reader is female (she/her), army nurse, non descript physical features, names used: Ashe. CW: Child abuse, mentions of war, toxic family dynamic, fuck Jack, alcohol.

AN: This chapter does have some heavy topics so if you want to skip it due to the content warnings that’s fine. You CAN skip this chapter and not miss any of the main story notes. This is basically just a little backstory into Jack and the shenanigans his family have been up to. TLDR: It's okay of you skip this chapter, we still hate Jack, fuck him he’s a bad person.

Previous parts - masterlist - next part

Enjoy <3

Jack had always hated being told what to do, from a young age he would fight back. ‘A problem child’ his mother would say when he would kick up a fuss in public. ‘Just needs some strict discipline’ people would reply. Coming from a military family he learnt from a young age how to follow orders. His family were very proud of the fact they could trace their family history all the way back to the civil war. Jack had never questioned what he would do in life, he always knew in this household when you turn 17 you’re joining the military. He just hated being told what to do, then one day it all changed.

He remembers it like it was yesterday, 14 years old, his parents where hosting a goodbye party for his brother who was about to be shipped off to war. A right of passage, someone to look up to. Jack did look up to his brother, he loved his brother, watching him walk around in his shiny new uniform being doted on by everyone was the first time Jack decided maybe the military was for him. It was when his mother asked him to do something for her that he decided to kick up a fuss, he didn’t want to leave the party, didn't want to miss saying goodbye to his brother. 

“That boy needs some discipline!” His grandfather shouted at him pointing his cane. That was the only thing Jack remembered about his grandfather, the cane and the Vietnam War medals he would wear constantly. His mother screamed at him to listen making even more of a scene. 

“If I spoke to my mother like that my father would beat me! Young kids now-a-days have it too easy! You’ve all gone soft, God help our nation if these are the soldiers of tomorrow!” His grandfather barked. His mother embarrassed and frustrated attempted to drag him inside, it only made him fight harder. His father gripped him by the collar despite his mothers pleas that ‘she can handle it.’ He was dragged into the kitchen thrown on the cold tile floor. 

“How dare you embarrass me like this!” His father yelled. Jack was used to his father yelling used to feeling the back of his fathers hand on his face. This time was different, this time his father was furious. 

“I hate you!” Jack shouted as he pulled his body off the floor. His fathers fist found his face knocking him off his feet and the wind out his chest. Before Jack could react his father was dragging him along the floor. He pulled the pantry doors open throwing Jack inside.

“You will stay in there and think about your actions! No son of mine will ever speak to me that way!” The door was slammed shut the deadbolt closed. Jack sat there in the dark his head throbbing as he sobbed.

His brother let him out, opening the door and bending down, Jacks eyes still raw from crying, his head still throbbing. 

“Chin up champ, dad doesn't mean it, he loves you really.” He said extending his arm out to help him up. 

“He hates me,” Jacks said burring his head back in his knees, ignoring the hand. 

“He doesn't hate you, he just gets mad sometimes.” 

“Take me with you.” Jack begged, his brother just laughed. 

“I’m going to a war zone, I don’t think they let kids come Jackie.” 

“Don’t call me that!” Jack shouted back, he hated being called Jackie, Jackie was a girls name. His brothers and cousins would call him that to wind him up, he hated it. His brother laughed again walking into the pantry and sitting next to him. 

“How about when I’m back I’ll take you on a trip somewhere? New York, we could spend the day there see all the sights.” 

“New York’s boring.” Jack said huffing. 

“Okay, what about DC? You love DC, we’ll go to all the museums spend the weekend stuffing our faces.” Jack smiled at his brother who smiled back.

“You have to be good though? No more kicking up a fuss, no more fighting with mom and dad. Be a good boy and we’ll go for the whole weekend?” His brother said nudging him. Jack smiled throwing his arms round his brother. It was a good hug, the type of brotherly love Jack missed. Jack promised to be good, promised to not fight with his parents. He kept his promise, learned to just do as he was told even if he didn’t like it. 

His brother never came home. They said it was a bomb, some kind of landmine, there wasn’t even a body to bring home. Jack remembers his mothers sobs late into the night, his father becoming more withdrawn and distant. His other siblings leaving home one by one, each with a look of dread on their faces when they were sent to fight the same war that killed their brother. When they all came home safe time after time Jack couldn’t tell if his dad was relieved or disappointed. 

“To die for your country is the greatest honour you will ever know. Your brother gave his life for our freedom, you will do the same.” His father said as Jack left for marine boot camp. Jack liked being a marine, enjoyed it, met Susan his wife a navy mechanic one tour. When he went back to the US to get married, it was the first time he had seen his dad be proud. 

“You did good son, you’ll be wanting to start a family no doubt.” Jack’s father said to him on his wedding day. 

“I think it’s time you got introduced to the family business, so you can provide for my grandchildren.” Jack looked at his father confused. Little did he know what kind of world he was about to get himself into. 

—————————— 

“We need to get rid of 141, they’ve already shut down our operations in Iraq and Urzikstan, if they get our routes in Syria or Lebanon we’re in trouble.” Jacks father says. Jack wasn’t really paying attention, sipping his whisky looking out down at the garden of his in-laws house getting ready for the party below. 

“I thought you were handling it?” Jacks father-in-law, Albert asked. 

“We ran into some problems in Urzikstan.” 

“Anything we should be concerned about?” 

“No, it’s being delt with. We should focus our concerns on the Syria route, we can deal with the rest later.” Jack heard a glass being put down, he turned to look. His father and father-in-law were stood round a desk in Albert’s study looking through papers. Jack walked over to the desk his fathers eyes watching him. 

“You are ready for Syria?” He asked.

“Yes sir.” Jack replied. 

“Getting you that base used all my contacts, you’re lucky your father was able to get you the promotion so quickly.” Albert said filling his glass with another drink. Jack was happy he got the promotion and the base, a supply depot in the middle of Syria. It is mainly used as a medical facility for the surrounding bases and a restock depot. Quiet and filled with supplies, supplies Jack would be responsible for selling to Al-qatala. It’s the first time he had been trusted to do something like this alone, without his fathers or his brothers help.

There was a knock at the door, Albert closed the files they were looking at and got up to answer it. Jack looked at his father sipping his drink, Albert was talking too hushed for Jack to hear. The music had started out in the garden, people must be starting to arrive. Albert came back to the table and finished his drink. 

“I am required to greet guests, I expect you to be down for my wife’s speech.” He says straightening his uniform out. Jack salutes him as he leaves. 

“Captain Price is going to be here tonight, I would assume he is bringing the rest of them with him. You should use tonight to get to know them, find their weaknesses.” Jacks father said.

“Are they really that much of a problem?” Jack asked. 

“They can become a problem very easily. Right now though we think we have thrown them off the trail.” Jacks father says finishing his drink. He pats jack on the shoulder putting the glass back on the drinks tray. 

“Don’t wait around too long Jack you’re expected to show your face at this event.” Jack nodded as his father left the room leaving Jack alone. He looked over at the folder, the one with all the intel collected on 141. He flipped it open seeing pictures, he needed to remind himself who to look out for. There was another knock at the door he quickly put the folders away leaving his glass and going to answer it. It’s his squad-mates-or since his promotion ex-squad-mates-they owed him one last favour though. 

“It wasn’t hard to get,” One of them says holding the gun out. Jack moves so they can come into the room. 

“Okay look, she needs to be gone before the speech starts and she needs stay gone for the whole night,” Jack explains. “The gun is to scare her only, that’s all you’re doing is scaring her.” They nod and the one with the gun tucks it away in his waist so it’s hidden. 

“Why are we scaring her again?” Jack hit’s him over the head tutting. 

“None of your business, you’re getting paid for it but only if she’s gone for the whole night.” Jack says.

“What can we do though? What if she screams or something?” Another one asks. 

“Gag her I don’t care, no marks on the face or arms though, in fact try to avoid leaving any evidence at all.” Jack says rubbing his temple. He starts to move them out the room.

“Come find me at the end of the night.” He says following them out. They head downstairs and Jack takes a moment to look at himself in the mirror in the hall, he always liked the way he looked in his formal’s, he likes the way it made him feel. Jack always liked the power of being in control, and now with his father and father-in-law trusting him with this latest trade he felt more powerful then he had before, he liked that, he smiled at himself in the mirror then headed out to the party. 

—————————— 

Jack’s father walked up to him as he was mingling with some people. He felt the familiar squeeze on his arm. A sign to wrap up his conversation and move away from the crowd. He let his father lead him back over to the bar. 

“10 o’clock that’s Price, don’t stare.” His father said then ordered a drink. Jack turned to look his eyes scanning the crowd until he say him, he did recognised him, it’s his beard that gives him away.

“Who’s the guy with him?” Jack looking back at his father and ordering a drink. 

“Riley, his lieutenant, the guy greeting them is MacTavish.” Jack turned to look taking a sip of his drink. 

“Who’s the woman?” Jack asked looking back.

“Friend of Chloe’s MacTavish is her plus one.” Jacks father replied finishing his drink and ordering another. 

“His girlfriend?” Jack asked, his father sighed, Jack knew that was his job to find out. 

“Is she military?” Jack asked, he expected a sigh back.

“Army nurse, that’s all I know.” Jacks father got up off the stool. The band started to die down as Jacks mother-in-law took to the stage. Jack was not listening but he did raise his glass and nod when she mentioned his name, pointing him out as people turned to look at him. Chloe was absent from the rest of her family, thank God something is going right and they’ve done their job.

He wanted to make his way round the crowd towards Price, talking to them would be a good start to get intel. When the speech was finished everyone clapped and he started to make his way over as the music picked up again. Jacks father had beaten him too it of course, already shaking hands with Price. Jack picked up the end of the friendly introductions. 

“This is my son Jack,” He introduces them and Jack shakes Price’s hand. Jack listens to his father talk as his eyes focus over each person, they seem harmless enough, one of them is missing Garrick, maybe he was somewhere else in the party. Jack felt a tap on his shoulder and he turned to look. It was one of his squad-mates. He squeezed his lips together grabbing him by the arm and leading him away from the crowd. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He asks. 

“There’s a problem, some girl came and caught us she took Chloe.” Jack feels his stomach drop, he quickly looks around.

“Where are the others?” He asks. 

“In the pool house, she gave Chris a bloody nose.” Jack dipped his head.

“Fucking hell, what did she look like?” Jack asks. 

“I-I don’t know,” He says stammering. Jack sighs.

“How drunk are you?” Jack says smacking the beer bottle out his hand. “If you saw her again could you point her out?” 

“Yeah,” He says sheepishly. Jack nods pulling him back to the crowd, he’s looking around as Jacks eyes fall back to Price and his father seemingly wrapping up their conversation as they shake hands. 

“Her there.” He points suddenly, Jack slaps his hand down tutting but looking in the direction. He sees the movement in the crowd and manages to catch a glimpse. Shit. It’s the girl MacTavish came with.

“You sure it’s her?” He asks. 

“Yeah, that’s her.” 

“Are any of you sober?” Jack asks. 

“Brian’s only had one beer.” 

“Bring him to me and the rest of you say out of my sight.” Jack says waving him away. Jack waits around till Brian arrives. 

“Follow, and don’t have anymore to drink I need one of you to be sober.” Jack says as he leads him inside. There are some people mulling around mostly interacting with Jack’s mother in law. Jack finds a corner with Brian as they pretend to make conversation. After a few minutes watches as Price leaves out the front door followed by Riley with the woman, MacTavish and Chloe. 

“Go get the car ready.” Jack says as he finishes his drink Brian nods slipping out the front door. 

—————————— 

They follow them to an apartment building in Canary Wharf, everyone but Price leaves the car heading into the building. When Price drives away Jack reaches into the back of the car bringing out a laptop. Brian tries to make conversation Jack ignores him trying to find the mystery woman’s military file. Who was she and what connection does she have with 141? According to all the intel they had she has no connection with them. She has to be a friend though. Jack was just about to give up when he saw something that caught his eye. A medical note for MacTavish, signed by an army nurse, now he had a name, he looked her up. 

“Oh that’s her.” Brian says pointing at the picture on the file. Jack smiled, now he has a name, and a location. He makes Brian drive him back to the party and finds his dad pulling him back into his father-in-laws office. He places the laptop down on the table with her file open. 

“Who’s she?” His father asks. 

“How we get intel on 141.” Jack explains the situation to his father, leaving out the hazing part. The whole time looking for any kind of approval in his fathers expression. 

“How do you know she’ll talk?” His father asks. 

“She doesn’t need to, it’s win win either way she’s a bargaining chip.” Jack says.

“How do you know she’s so important to them?” Jack paused for a second. 

“I have the boys watching their movements.” He says, somewhat of a lie. His dad sighs he seems unimpressed. 

“I’ll get her on your base, regardless if you can get info out her or not this can’t fuck up any of the deals we’ve made.” His father almost spits at him. 

“Yes, sir, of course not.” Jack’s father finishes his drink handing the glass to his son. He looks like he want’s to say something more instead he shakes his head leaving the room. Jack watches him leave then turns back to look at the file on the laptop, she had to be close to them, she had to be the key, and there are always multiple ways to get information from someone. Army nurse, he scoffs, she’ll be easy to break.  

Next part

[ask-the-clergy-bc]

Could I please request headcanons of the Papas meeting their S/O's very religious family for the first time, only for the family to be hostile and constantly made snide remarks about the Papas position in the Church/try to argue theology with them?

I swear I wrote something like this before, but I can’t find it so I can’t link it! But I’m still gonna answer this, just sorry if I’ve done it already! Lol!

This is also unlocking one of my favorite Papa I headcanons, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I did getting to write it!

Also proof reading; I’m sorry if this misses the mark. I got carried away with thinking of different scenarios to put reader in!

Notes:

-Written with younger Nihil in mind, but reader’s choice.

-GN Reader

-Reader implied to have one or both parents/parental figures, some grandparents, and siblings. Each is different and can be swapped out per reader preference.

(Trigger warnings: emotional abusive families, unhealthy relationships with family, religious trauma for the reader.)

Papas Meeting Their S/O’s Heavily Religious Families

Papa Nihil: Your Papa never understood why you kept in contact with your toxic family. They constantly belittled you and tried to convince you to abandon your place at the clergy. You admitted that despite the nasty things they said about your faith, you still loved them. They were your family and you didn’t have the heart to completely abandon them over it. Nihil despises them but can’t force you to cut contact, so he remained supportive. One day you did get an invitation to come home as a peace offering. Nihil was suspicious but agreed that you should go. Primarily because he didn’t trust your family and didn’t want to leave you alone with them… but wait, they willingly invited him too? Shit. Now he was REALLY SUSPICIOUS! But you asked him to go with your puppy dog eyes, and he couldn’t say no.

This would be the first time he’s met them and he wasn’t going to let you down. So he reluctantly agreed to come home with you. Nihil grabbed a fine bottle of wine and a dish he had his personal ghoul made. Despite being very grumpy at having to go, your Papa was polite and charming as he could be. It lasted about ten minutes getting into the door. Because, unfortunately, your grand father was there. Your grandpa was one of those super traditional, old school types who thought everyone should bow to him as head of the household. Your grandpa didn’t even let you sit before he was criticizing your beloved. Citing him as being rude for imaginary slights, and that he would expect nothing less from a demon worshipper.

Nihil wasn’t having any of it. “Actually, I should be at the head of the table: I outrank all of you where I came from.” Your lover smirked. Then all Hell broke loose. It went from your Grandpa shouting about sin, to your mother crying for him to calm down, and then Nihil laughing in everyone’s face. You both didn’t make it an hour before you were being pushed out of the house and told to never come back. Nihil’s only regret was seeing you cry, because he knows how badly you wanted to be accepted. But he decided to take you out to dinner, instead.

Papa I: Quite frankly, your family had picked the absolute worst person to ever have a theological debate with. Papa I isn’t just a dedicated anti pope; Theology is his passion and special interest! He does nothing but study various religions, INCLUDING every single denomination of his dreaded nemesis. So you knew the day Papa met your family they would be humbled VERY quickly. Actually, you couldn’t wait to see it if you were being honest.

Your family had been pestering you for ages to come home and visit. They hated where you ran off to, but insisted they still loved you and just wanted you to come see them. God would always forgive you, right? You agreed only if you could bring Papa. With a lot of reluctance they did agree. Papa was happy to accept thinking it was your way of reconnecting with your family. He knew the stories but was willing to play nice for your sake…. Yet he was intrigued as to why you were so giddy the trip to your childhood home.

Aside from a lot of passive aggressive comments towards him (which he ignored), the family had been well behaved. It’s not until dinner that your uncle decided to have a ‘good faith’ argument ‘for fun’ with Papa’s and yours beliefs. Papa was calm at first until your uncle started preaching. You sat back with a small smile as Papa dressed the man down. Papa not only contradicted all of your uncle’s arguments with actual Bible verses, but Papa even showed he knew more about his faith than anyone could have guessed. Your family was stunned and dinner was finished in silence. Papa thanked them for a lovely time and you never fought with your family again… they were too scared for it.

Papa II: If it wasn’t for the fact that Papa genuinely cared about you he would have never agreed to this. Papa openly despises your family after hearing stories of how they treated you. You had to literally beg him to meet them just once. One dinner to meet him so they would stop hounding you about your mysterious partner and the “crazy cult you joined.” All you wanted was this one dinner so you could go back to ignoring them for the rest of the year… until Christmas, at least. You’re very lucky Papa has committed to you enough to agree. The compromise is that HE chose where to meet the family.

This is how your family got invited to one of the most prestigious Italian Restaurants in the city. Not Papa’s cherished favorite, mind you. But good enough that it cost a pretty penny. Your parents and sister didn’t seem to mind ‘dirty Satanist money’ when it got them the finest dishes in the world. Plus, it was neutral ground. so Papa was a touch more relaxed than he would have been otherwise. Even after thanking Papa, your family seemed like they couldn’t wait to be incredibly rude to him. You pushed your risotto around your plate and kept your head down as your mom kept asking questions. The kind that were thinly veiled passive aggressiveness under a sweet tone. Papa sipped his wine and answered non committaly to questions about his faith, his role in the ministry, how much he made, what made him part of the congregation…

Papa was a classy man, so one worded and cool answers kept him from being snarky. ‘Lucifer. Anti Pope. more than jesus. Birth right.’ Your mother seemed to sour more and more at his answers, and your sister sneered in barely concealed disgust. But the line was finally crossed when your mom whole heartedly smiled at Papa. “It’s never too late to be saved by Jesus. You know you both could always come home, receive forgiveness, and stop living in sin.” Papa set down his wine. “And you could stop giving tidings to a Mega Church where your pastor has a criminal record.” Your family’s stunned face was enough to make you almost choke on your food. Needless to say, you’ve never seen the three of them run out on a bill so fast after that. But you did thank Papa for being nice. After all, you know the man could have done so much worse.

Papa III: To his credit, Papa wanted to be absolutely gracious and was happy to put aside religion if it meant keeping peace with your family. He knew it was important to you to just have your family on good terms. Even if that meant a healthy arms length away from him. So he was prepared to not speak of his faith and be his cordial and charming self. Anything to make future contact easier for you! Despite your rocky differences, he knew you and your family were incredibly close.

Papa had agreed to let your family come over for dinner to help mend the bridge. He was happy to host! You didn’t think they would ever agree, but you always gave small invitations. Your family declined every single one. Until one day you decided to try again for Easter… and they accepted?? Your were a bit panicked, but Papa was ecstatic! He wanted them to like him and possibly be more communicative with you! Maybe even visit more! He had his fill of extremists in the past, so he wasn’t expecting a miracle. But he definitely wasn’t expecting to be as disrespected in his own home as he was that day.

Papa had the kitchens prepare the nicest Easter brunch in the gardens. No Jesus, but plenty of bunnies and plastic eggs for your baby cousins. Your family (and extended family) pretty much all ignored every greeting he tried to make. They didn’t acknowledge Papa and instead decided to nit-pick you, the abbey, and even the siblings serving you. Papa had gritted teeth the whole day. Trying to be level headed and supportive. but when they told him they didn’t want him saying ‘grace’ at the meal did Papa finally react. “You come into MY HOME, on YOUR HOLIDAY that we accommodated for YOU, and you treat me and my home like GARBAGE?” When your mom pointed out he was a Satanist anyway Papa yelled, “GET THE FUCK OUT!!” Papa called them everything from hypocrite to their faith to disgraces. You were happy to see all of them run out with their tails tucked between their legs. Papa never invited your family to anything ever again.

Papa IV/Copia: Copia meeting your family had been entirely by accident! You were little to no contact with them and intended to keep your partner and life AWAY from them! Yet fate had other plans. You had attended the last of the tour shows with the band and one of the destinations had been your hometown. Copia always knew you hated traveling back there. Originally he had asked if you wanted to skip over the city and take a mini break away from the crew. Happy to let you go off on your own solo trip and just reconnect with the tour after this particular show. But you vehemently were against leaving and assured him the chances of your family being around a ritual was one in a million… until you saw your entire family protesting outside of the venue. (Swiss told you to buy a lottery ticket with your odds after you picked your jaw off of the ground.)

You almost couldn’t believe your eyes. They must have stayed out for hours to yell at the band’s tour bus. The only reason you were even out there was to wrangle some of the ghouls from screwing with some of the protesters. That’s when you saw your siblings and cousins in the midst of the signs. When one of them recognized you Hell broke loose. Your brother, a proud pastor, called you out by name. Copia had come to grab you and heard it. “Beloved, is that… your brother?” You begged Copia to just go back into the bus with you. Normally, he’s a more passive man in tense events and likes to handle issues more calmly. But when your brother, sister in law, and even cousins started shouting biblical insults at you he snapped.

Very calmly Copia strolled over to your brother and met him eye to eye. You knew that Copia being calm meant he was absolutely livid. Your brother went from being belligerent to gulping at the blazing white eye of your lover. Copia recited word for word all the passages he knew about not being above God and judging your neighbor. Every time your brother tried to respond, Copia spoke over him louder and louder until he was practically shouting verses. Soon all the protestors were staring in horror until all were muttering and quiet. Copia just scoffed at your brother before turning to you. “What a terrible child of God you are. Pathetic.” You felt on top of the world when Copia guided you away, leaving behind a stunned and silent brother.

[silantryoo]

BONUS [ LIKEALOOK ] — wonyoung's l/n y/n.

jang wonyoung, before first year.

WARNINGS ; mentions of toxic household, mentions of self-sabotage (1.8k)

jang wonyoung knew it wasn't right to run from her problems.

she wasn't the fastest on the team, not by a long shot. she lagged behind her soon-to-be teammates, always running a mile thirty minutes slower than them. her legs, although powerful, were only good for jumping up, never forward.

still, it never deterred her from trying, the constant reminder of her mother in the mirror and her father in her name. no matter how much she failed and how often it scarred her, she always ended up running.

wonyoung was tired of running.

victor's hall.

trophies scattered the walls, ribbons and banners waving in the air. a collection of all suma's best, their achievements immortalized for the centuries to come. the cases were in pristine condition, glowing in the soft back light that emitted behind the multiple enclosures.

a place in victor's hall was no small thing. after all, suma only took the best of the best, evident in the overwhelming number of olympians and professional players that were alumni.

getting into suma was a victory in itself; being one of the SKYS.

but wonyoung didn't feel like it was a victory. it didn't feel like she won some grand prize, or that she finally got into her dream school, on a scholarship in her dream program.

it felt... hollow.

she had sacrificed too much to not continue. her relationship (although there was barely anything there) with her father, her chance at a 'proper' university, her knee, her diet, her stress, hannah...

god, she even left hyunseo in that horrible, greyed out house with her father who only loved her during the good, when her baby sister reminded him that she was the creation of real love and not whatever the hell wonyoung was.

hyunseo was a lee, she wasn't born under the circumstances of business, not as a jang.

she knew her mother would do everything in her power to protect hyunseo, though. there wasn't much that wonyoung could ensure jiyoung with, but they both wanted the same thing. they both wanted to protect their younger sisters in one way or another, or in jiyoung's case, whatever's left of it.

wonyoung looked at last year's banner, the emptiness settling in her stomach once more.

'FINALIST'.

she couldn't help but wonder if it was her fate would be the same this year. her father was sure to pull her out of suma if that were the case. he'd pull all the funding from under her feet, take her off his will and leave nothing in her name.

she couldn't have that, not until after university. she was on a full ride scholarship, but how was she going to survive? would she starve? wonyoung couldn't work a job on top of being on the volleyball team. in all honesty, wonyoung had never even touched a cleaning rag.

wonyoung poked on the glass, sighing to herself.

was this even worth it? was she worth it?

"are you allowed to get fingerprints on that?"

wonyoung jumped, flinching so hard that her hand retracted from the case at lighting speed.

was she already in trouble? it was barely her first week as an official suma spartan, yet she had already done something that could get her kicked off the team.

was this the moment she was going to get expelled?

"i-i didn't...!" wonyoung frantically wiped the mirror with her sweater, cleaning it of any marks she left. "i was just looking, i swear!"

the volleyball player turned around.

"i'm not gonna tell." a soft smile appeared on the person's face, and wonyoung could feel her knees buckling. "i don't even go here yet."

oh... wow.

part of wonyoung wanted to speak, she wanted to introduce herself like she always did; 'wonyoung', without the jang, of course. for some reason, the air in her throat seemed to get stuck, feline eyes staring at her in wonder.

"i swear, i'm not lying." the girl chuckled. it felt like music, like a lullaby. "i was just wandering around. one of my coworker's told me the bookstore was down victor's hall. i didn't expect it to be so... big."

wonyoung blinked.

she was absolutely lost. would a laugh ease the tension? a smile? maybe a thumbs up was enough, or would that make her look like an idiot?

all wonyoung managed to do was let out a soft 'huh?'.

"the bookstore..." the girl cleared her throat, looking wonyoung directly in her eyes. the taller girl could feel her entire neck burn with a blush. "do you not go here...?"

"i-i do!" wonyoung blurted out, her words jumbled and rushed, just like her thoughts. "i go here, i mean."

the girl giggled once more, and wonyoung blushed harder. the mystery girl was pretty, wonyoung towering over her shorter stature. she was dressed in nice clothes, a little under the radar and not what wonyoung was used to seeing, but still nice. she even fidgeted cutely too, rubbing her knuckles together as if she were...

"are you cold?"

wonyoung bit her lip, cursing at herself internally. she was no good at talking to pretty girls, not when they looked like this. part of her wished her yujin-unnie was here to help her out.

the mystery girl smiled. "maybe a little?"

the volleyball player tugged off her sweater, feeling her sweaty back hit the cold air.

"i-it's a little sweaty." the one time she didn't take a shower after practice was the one time a pretty girl came up to her and decided to be cold.

"i shouldn't-" the pretty girl refused, a bright blush on her face. it took everything in wonyoung to not slam her head into the glass cabinet, feeling too giddy to even breathe properly.

"i'll be fine." the athlete managed to squeak out, suppressing her shiver. "it's cheap anyway."

it was about 100,000 won, give or take. it was cheap to wonyoung, but definitely not cheap enough that anyone without her background would give it out.

she knew at this point, the girl was sure to be curious of her status.

"thanks, um..."

"wonyoung," she said simply.

she prayed that this mystery girl wouldn't ask about her last name. the shorter girl didn't know the implications it held for wonyoung; the pain and the tears that hid behind the word. wonyoung couldn't blame her if she asked, but she didn't wanna think about it right now.

right now, she just wanted to be wonyoung. just wonyoung, talking to a pretty girl (and pretty much landing horrible on her face).

the shorter girl smiled, her eyes studying wonyoung's face with curiousity.

the athlete felt her hand twitch, an overwhelming urge to straighten her hair and put on a camera-ready smile. she wondered if the pretty girl recognized her through the grapevine, or perhaps was debating whether or not wonyoung was worth talking to.

(she was actually admiring wonyoung's beauty, but wonyoung didn't need to know that yet.)

"i'm y/n."

wonyoung grinned. she finally had a name to the person.

it was y/n, who was pretty, and who had a nice smile. she was the pretty mystery girl who giggled like wonyoung's favourite lullaby, currently drowning in her volleyball sweater that seemed a size or two too big on her. y/n was who she met a mere ten minutes ago, with striking eyes and a beauty mark on her nose.

and she was someone who wonyoung couldn't function around.

"nice to, um..." wonyoung stumbled over simple words, her brain screaming at her to finish her sentence. "...meet you, y/n."

as the name left her mouth, wonyoung couldn't help but blush. she couldn't believe that a pretty girl was wearing her sweater, and now she knew her name.

next thing she knew, y/n would be her friend.

wonyoung could only hope.

y/n smiled with a hint of fondness, and wonyoung wished that it was because of her as a person and not because of her current inability to speak proper words.

"nice to meet you, wonyoung."

the volleyball player could feel her ears burn the same shade of red as her sweater, her brain nearly exploding at y/n acknowledging her as wonyoung and just wonyoung.

she was just wonyoung to y/n.

wonyoung watched as y/n fished something out of her pocket, a phone in her hand. the shorter girl opens it with ease, handing it to wonyoung with a smile.

wonyoung looked at the open phone app. what was she supposed to do with this?

"for your phone number." y/n clarified, and wonyoung sore she burst a blood vessel somewhere in her brain. "so i can return your sweater."

the taller girl could feel her ears ringing. she was sure she was dreaming, and she'd wake up to her half empty dorm with yujin banging on the door, yelling at her to hurry up for practice.

she waited a moment for her eyes to open, but all she found was her still staring at y/n in front of her.

"r-right, um," wonyoung cleared her throat, desperately trying to remember her phone number.

wonyoung put it in shakily, reading the numbers over and over again to make sure it was hers and not yujin's or yena's. knowing those two, they'd swoop at the opportunity and wonyoung was not about to let this pass, even if it led to nothing in the end.

the athlete saved it with a sigh, handing it back to the girl in front of her.

"i'm gonna go catch up with the group." y/n smiled, placing her phone in her pocket. "thanks again... i'll see you around, hopefully?"

oh god, wonyoung didn't even think about seeing y/n again.

"yeah..." she nodded stiffly, mirroring a robot from some sci-fi movie she saw yujin's sister watch some time ago. "uh, around sounds... nice."

y/n shot her a look, shaking her head with a smile.

"yeah..." wonyoung missed the way y/n's eyes lit up with adoration. "it does."

the shorter girl wandered away, the opposite direction from wonyoung. she waited until y/n was out of earshot before she groaned, sliding down the wall into a puddle of her own embarrassment.

"'around sounds nice'? are you stupid, wonyoung?" she could die right there, evaporating into nothingness. it would definitely save her pride. "oh god... i'm stupid!"

she was never gonna live this down, but she would definitely try to, even if it meant avoiding the most beautiful girl she'd ever seen.

(but a week later, as if by divine intervention, y/n turned out to be wonyoung's new roommate.)

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taglist (CLOSED)!!

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[fandomfix13]

Get Him Back - Rafe Cameron 18+

* HI ITS BEEN A WHILE SINCE IVE WRITTEN ANYTHING BUT IM HERE NOW

* TBH THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SMUT SO BARE WITH ME

* This is so super long and also completely filthy at parts SO MDNI and pls read warnings

* little bit of fluff? Def some pretty smutty smut. This did not start out as smut but here we are

* WRITTEN IN Y/N’s POV, lots of dialogue

*anything in italics is your inner monologue

Word count: 4K

WARNINGS: MDNI!, mentions of cheating (not rafe), toxic ex,  oral (giving and receiving), fingering, rough-ish??, p in v sex, hair pulling, light choking??, not rated e for everyone

The rain is pouring down in sheets. Falling harder than it has in a while. My head is pounding from holding back tears, that I might as well let out. I never thought that I would be in this situation. Forced out of my boyfriend's car after a fight at nearly one in the morning, with a dead phone, left to walk home alone in the pouring rain. How cliche. Not to mention the fact that I’m just over three miles away from home. What a dick. Some “man” he is to leave me like that. For all he cares, I could be kidnapped out here. However, it's highly unlikely being that I’m wandering in one of (if not the nicest) neighborhoods in this entire state. Constantly guarded by a neighborhood watch, with gated community after gated community.

 I can see the the sharp rain plummeting down in the glow of the street lights. Unlucky for me, the wind has picked up too making this walk even more miserable. At this point, I have two options; 1. I could continue to walk home in this miserable weather OR 2. I could lose all dignity and show up to Sarah’s house after not talking to her in months. Seeing as this storm is showing absolutely no sign of stopping, its looking like the second option is better. As I turn the corner, I approach the Seabrook Gated Community. A little ways down is the fence that Sarah and I used to hop all the time when we would sneak out. That’s my in. It’s an old rusty fence that is hidden behind some overgrown hedges behind some wildly overpriced house that rarely ever has anyone living in it.         

After nearly slipping off of the slippery fence, I make my way down the street to Tanny Hill. Mentally preparing myself for the absolute humiliation that will occur if Sarah opens the front door. We had our falling out about 3 months ago and we haven't spoken since. We have tried our best to avoid each other at all costs. At least I’ve tried avoiding her, that is, until this very moment. 

As I approach the front lawn, I genuinely consider turning around and quite literally braving the storm and walking home. As it is, I’m already soaked from head to toe and probably on the verge of pneumonia. However, I shake off my thoughts and walk towards the front door. I knock three times in hope that someone will hear. I don’t ring the doorbell out of fear of waking up the entire Cameron household which is the last thing I need to do. After a few seconds, nobody answers. This house is huge maybe they are coming. I convince myself that nobody is answering the door so I turn accepting my fate and I walk away. Suddenly, I hear the front door unlock and my breath gets caught in my throat when I hear his voice. 

“Y/N? Is that you?” Fuck. Me.

“Hey Rafe.” I choke out. God I probably look insane.

“What are you doing here?” he looks at his phone “at 1:26 in the morning.”

“Um. Is Sarah home?” I spit out, trying to avoid conversation.

“She’s not…but I am.” He leans against the door frame looking me up and down in a ‘you good?’ way. “You also didn’t answer my question.” He adds.

“I uh…I didn’t know where else to go.” I say quietly. I was right. This is in fact humiliating. He just stands there and stares at me. Clearly unamused at the fact that I still haven't answered his question as to why I am standing on his front porch looking like a wet dog. I would stare too. “Are you gonna let me inside? Or are you just gonna keep staring at me in silence.” I add.

“That depends.” He says lookin back into the house then back at me. “Are you gonna tell me why you’re here? Or are you just gonna avoid the question.” Touche. We stand here in silence for a moment as he watches me get pelted in the face by the rain and I chatter my teeth. He finally pushes the door open further and gestures for me to come inside. Thank go Sarah isn’t home because I would be shitting myself out of embarrassment right now. I walk in and Rafe opens a hallway in the closet as he reaches in and grabs a towel that he throws at me. “If You get anything wet, Rose will lose her shit.” 

“How kind.” I say with strong notes of sarcasm.

“Hey I didn’t have to let you in. I could've just left you outside on your own.” he’s right.

“Well you wouldn’t be the first guy to leave me outside tonight, so I probably would’ve been fine” I blurt out without thinking. What happened to me tonight is none of his business. Plus I’m sure he will hear about it anyway. However, he did let me inside which he did not have to do, so I could at least pretend to be grateful. 

“Damn. That's rough. Sorry about that.” he almost sounded embarrassed.

“No, it's fine. Thanks for the towel.” he nods and sits down at the kitchen counter. We stand in silence for a bit as I ring my hair out into the sink. This couldn’t be more awkward. Here I am standing in my ex best friend’s house with her older brother, who was in fact my first kiss in a game of truth or dare years ago, and who happens to be the best friend of my boyfriend who just dumped me on the side of the road in the middle of the night. This is just grand. “Do you have a phone charger? My phone is completely dead.” 

“Uh yeah its upstairs. Do you wanna-” he cut himself off before speaking again. “Do you just wanna come up with me so you can change?” Right. So. Apparently this absolutely CAN  feel more awkward. Whatever. I need to charge my phone and honestly a change of clothes sounds devine. I silently follow Rafe up the stairs and into his room. “If you want you can take a shower to warm up. Your teeth haven’t stopped chattering since you got here.” he’s being frighteningly nice. 

“Um sure.” I say hesitantly as I am incredibly confused by his nice attitude. I plug in my phone and Rafe hands me one of his old t-shirts and a pair of booty shorts that were surely left here by some random girl, but honestly I don’t care. I have to get out of these clothes. “Thanks.” I say taking the clothes and entering his bathroom, closing and locking the door quickly behind me. Literally what the fuck. There is no way this is really happening. 

I take my time in the shower as I let the steaming hot water warm me up for a while. When I’m done, I put on the clothes that Rafe gave me, and open the bathroom door seeing him sitting on his bed, scrolling through his phone.

“Hey Topper called you like five times when you were in the shower.” He says unfazed. My attitude shifts almost immediately. 

“You didn’t answer it did you?” I blurt out. Nice job y/n! That wasn’t suspicious at all!

“No…why would I?” he laughs clearly confused as I let out a sigh  of relief. Once again. Awkward silence. I take a seat on the edge of the bed going through my phone. “Are you gonna call him back?” he asks. Before I could answer him, his phone starts to ring. Toppers name is displayed on the screen. Rafe looks at his phone, then back to me, then back to his phone. 

“I am NOT here. Answer it. Put it on speaker.” I say frantically. Now he's intrigued.

“Hey Top!” Rafe answers. “Rafe! I fucked up man. I fucked up BAD! I’m coming over. I need a drink asap.” I am immediately shaking my head and mouthing ‘no’. “Top I can’t tonight man. My dad is on my ass and if Rose finds out I have someone over, I’m dead bro.” Is he seriously helping me right now? 

Topper scoffs on the other line. “Since when have you given a shit about what Rose thinks? I’m already on my way!” 

“Then turn around and go home man. I can’t tonight.”

“What is up with you dude? You never turn down a drink” its silent for a minute “Oh shit do you have a chick over right now?” Im disgusted at the change in tone in Top’s voice when he  brings up Rafe having a girl over.

“Yeah bro I do. And she’s alone right now in my bed so I gotta go. I'll call you tomorrow.” Rafe responds, very quick to go along with Topper’s question.

“That’s my man!” Topper laughs “is she hot? She better be hot!”

Even Rafe rolls his eyes at Topper’s comment. “Yeah she’s hot. Okay gotta go man.” Rafe responds as he hangs up the phone. Is that true, does he think I’m hot? I don’t care. Do I?

I let out a huge sigh of relief that we dodged the bullet of Top showing up here. 

“So. Are you gonna tell me why I just had to lie to my best friend?”

I shift nervously. “Well technically you didn’t lie. There is a ‘chick’ here and she is sitting on your bed.” I try to make a joke avoiding this conversation at all costs. 

“Y/n.” He says, raising his eyebrows. He clearly wants an answer. 

“I broke up with Top and he didn’t take it well.” I say on an exhale. He doesn’t say anything because he’s not stupid. He has probably figured out that much already. I let out a heavy sigh. “He kicked me out of his car in the middle of the road three miles away from my house in the fucking rain because I accused him of cheating on me. He told me that I had no idea what I was talking about. He said I was crazy, and that I was making shit up. But I’m not. I know for a fact that I’m not. It’s not the first time either. He’s done it before, which I’m sure you already know since you’re his best friend and he probably tells you everything.” I make that realization as I’m rambling my story out to him. Rafe is probably well aware of Topper’s lack of loyalty. 

“I uh. I knew about it the first time.” He admits. His honestly with the situation makes me laugh a little as I roll my eyes.

“Of course you did. Being that it was with your sister. I’d be shocked if you didn’t know.” The look on Rafe’s face instantly changes. It’s almost like he’s holding something back. “Unless…Sarah wasn’t the first girl was she. There was someone else.” Tears that I have been pushing back for weeks start to well in my eyes. Not because I’m sad, but because I’m furious. Even Rafe doesn’t know what to say. Without thinking, I grab my wet clothes and my barely charged phone, and head towards his bedroom door. “I should go. Thanks for the shower and-” 

“Y/n don’t be ridiculous” he says quickly following me. “You can’t leave right now that storm is getting worse” He puts his hand on the door, shutting it. 

I turn and he is standing close enough to me to create an odd sort of tension. 

“Why don’t you get him back?” Rafe suggests as I roll my eyes.

“I don’t want to get back with him Rafe I’m so ov-” he cuts me off.

“That’s not what I’m saying. I mean get him back. As in revenge.” he says as he steps closer to me. Jesus Christ I’m an absolute idiot.

“Revenge…right.” I laugh awkwardly. He continues to inch closer, creating an even bigger amount of tension. Not that tension is an unfamiliar thing with Rafe and I. There has always been a weird tension between us. Ya know…the whole best friends brother thing. I’ve known Rafe for almost 10 years. Something about his cocky attitude has always been attractive to me. Call it toxic. I don’t care. It’s just the truth. Rafe and I are standing right infront of each other. He is towering over me as my back is still to the door. 

“You know…They say that one of the best ways to get over a guy is to get under another.” He almost whispers while moving my hair out of my face. I can’t help but blush. The thought of getting back at Topper crossed my mind the second he cheated on me. The thought of getting back at him by hooking up with his best friend? That’s even better. Rafe leans down and starts to kiss my neck. “Rafe we probably shouldn’t do this” I whisper clearly enjoying it.

“Of course we shouldn’t. But I do shit that I shouldn’t do all the time.” He stops kissing my neck to look me in the face.

“Me too” I nod letting out a breath as I crash my lips onto his. The kiss is instantly filled with an insane amount of intensity. Rafe backs me up against the wall as he deepens the kiss. He moves from my mouth to my neck, leaving hickeys all over. He is making sure that I can’t hide what we are doing. And I’m totally here for it. His hands move from my hair, to my hips, to underneath the hem of my shirt. Well. Technically his shirt. I’m braless since my bra got soaked in that rain earlier. He quickly realizes this as his hand grazes over my tits. He starts to grip them while kissing me, making me moan softly until he stops for a second. 

“As hot as you look in my shirt…it’s coming off” he nearly growls. I lift my arms as he lifts the shirt over my head and throws it across the room. I reach for his shirt to take it off. Once he takes it off his mouth is back on mine. Our foreheads are pressed together as our bare chests are rising and falling against each other. He hoists me up, grabbing my ass as I throw my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. We don’t last long against the wall before we move to the bed.

He lays me down on the edge of the bed as he hovers over me kissing me yet again. Each kiss gets more aggressive. We bite each other's lips between kisses. He moves his mouth from my lips to my neck leaving more marks. Slowly, he makes his way to my chests. The marks he makes get darker and darker. He puts his mouth over my nipple, making me moan as he slightly bites down. He quickly moves his hand up to cover my mouth.

“Shhh. Baby we gotta stay quiet.” He says as he moves from one nipple to the other. I moan into his hand as he stifles the sound that comes out. His hand moves from my mouth to my throat as he wraps his hand around it lightly. His lips meet mine again. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” holy shit. I moan into our kiss as his hand is on my throat. His hand travels down my body until its hovering over my shorts. He’s moving his hand from one thigh to the other. Barely grazing the spot where I need him the most. I breathe into our kiss as his hand stops at the waistband of my shorts. He’s such a fucking tease. He hovers his hand there for a minute sensing that I want more. 

“Oh my God Rafe” I moan out of anticipation.

“You want more baby?” he smirks against my lips.

“You know I do” Smartass.

“Say less” he moves from his position above me, to kneeling on the floor at the edge of the bed. He hooks his fingers around the waistband of my shorts, pulling them down, revealing my bare pussy. He pulls me closer to the edge of the bed and spreads my legs in one swift motion, causing my breath to hitch. He leans down and attaches his mouth to my clit. This of course causes another accidental moan to slip from my mouth. I immediately throw my own hands over my mouth to quiet the noise. His tongue is swirling circles over my clit as he inserts two fingers without warning. As hard as I am trying to stifle my sounds, nothing could stop the groan that I let out at this moment. He moves his fingers at a faster pace that matches what his tongue is doing. 

“Holy Shit Rafe.” I whine.

“You like that?” he smirks up at me. I nod and roll my eyes to the back of my head before shutting them tightly. But suddenly Rafe stops. “Open your eyes y/n. I want you to look at me when you cum. I want you to see who is making you feel this good.” I do as he says and open my eyes as I prop myself up on my elbows to get a better view. “Atta girl” He smirks before burying his face into me yet again. He adds a third finger as I throw my head back while remaining eye contact. He curls his fingers as he eats me out and I want to scream at the pressure building up inside of me. I reach forward and tangle my fingers through his hair as he grins up towards me. 

“Rafe! Oh my God” I let out a string of other soft noises and words.

“Go ahead baby. Cum for me,” I look Rafe in the eyes as I jerk my hips and arch my back, completely unraveling in front of him. As he removes his fingers from inside of me, he brings them up to my mouth. “I want you to see how good you taste.” he says as I take his fingers into my mouth until they are clean. He removes his fingers from my mouth and laces his hands through my hair as he devours me with a kiss. 

“That was incredible.” I breathe heavily.

“Oh we aren’t done yet princess.” the sound of him calling me princess was enough to nearly send me over the edge again. 

“I’d hope not” I tangle my tongue with his as he deepens the kiss by pulling my hair back. I reach for his pants and I undo his belt. 

“Eager are we?” he scoffs, pulling away for a moment. He removes his belt and  his pants. Leaving his boxers for me to remove. I gesture for him to sit on the edge of the bed where I just was. When he sits, I climb onto his lap, straddling him over his boxers. I can tease too. I lean in kissing him as I slowly start to rock back and forth on his lap. I can feel him getting harder by the second. To be honest this is doing just as much for me as it is for him. I start to kiss his neck, leaving marks similar to the ones he left on me. I start to rock faster back and forth until he is letting out moans the way I was. I cover his mouth.

“I thought we had to stay quiet.” I give him a sly smile before kneeling on the floor and removing his boxers. I come face to face with his cock as I run my tongue up the side, looking up at him while I do it. I move my tongue to the other side slowly, taking my sweet time. 

“Fuck y/n” Rafe groans as he places his hand in my hair. 

I wrap my mouth around the head of his cock and start to suck slowly, using my hands to work the rest that I can’t fit in my mouth. I bob my head up and down while I look up at him, my eyes are starting to water. He grabs my head and slightly pushes me down further, and I can feel his tip hit my throat. When it does Rafe lets out a deep moan with a mumbled string of “oh fucks”. After a few minutes, I can sense that he is going to cum. I don’t bother asking where he wants to finish before he finishes in my mouth. I swallow and look up at him with a smile.

“Holy shit. You really know what you’re doing.” He lets out a heavy content sigh. “We still aren't done yet. I need to be inside you.” He says laying me back down on the bed. I still cannot believe that this is happening. 

Rafe wastes no time climbing on top of me leaving sloppy kisses up my chest and meeting my mouth with his. “You sure about this?” He looks down at me.

“Never been more sure about anything.” I nod. 

“Good” He says as he grabs a condom from his nightstand and puts it on. Seconds later, he is lining himself up at my entrance. His tongue plunges into my mouth as he enters inside of me. His cock stretched my pussy perfectly. He moves with smooth motions leaving us both moaning into each other's mouths as he starts to pick up the pace of his thrusts. He brings his hand to my throat once again,barely applying pressure, making me let out a moan that was too loud to be stifled. He doesn’t seem to care. 

“You like when my hands are around your neck?” He whispers in my ear.

“Yes! Oh my god yes” I am starting to get louder. He moves his hand from my throat to my mouth to keep me quiet again. I moan into his hand as his thrusts hit the perfect spot inside of me. He can tell that he has hit the spot when my hips start to buck in perfect rhythm with his thrusts. I am almost screaming into his hand. As he leans down to kiss me again. 

“You gonna cum with me?” he asks, pressing his forehead against mine. I nod unable to speak, to stop myself from screaming. “Words y/n. Use your words” 

“Fuck yes. I’m gonna cum!” I whine out. He thrusts in and out a few more times, hitting the spot perfectly making me squirm underneath him. With one final thrust, I arch my back as I scratch my nails down his, definitely leaving scratch marks. We cum simultaneously as we let out deep and hungry moans into each other's mouths. He just gave me the best orgasm I have ever had. He pulled out and laid next to me.

“Holy shit. I’ve waited so long to do that.” he says looking at me out of breath.

“Me too. I always had a crush on you ya know.” I say looking at him equally as out of breath.

“Yeah I know.” He smiles and lets out a soft chuckle.

“Took you long enough to do something about it.” I laugh back.

“Thank God I did. And I plan on doing it again. Just so you know.” I winked at me 

“I’d hope so.” I smile, laying there next to him. He was right. That was the best way to get over someone. 

** hi! I really hope you liked this. If you did and want to see more let me know what you want to see! I had fun writing this and in my many many years of writing fanfics this is somehow my first time writing smut so I hope it was okay lol ❤️

[blaqcats-fics]

in thanks for getting me to 100 followers, here’s a crack fic(?) that’s not to be taken literally at all.

Bruce sits at his desk in his office, staring at his bank statement. His face is blank. His eye twitches. He refreshes the page. The number doesn’t change.

BRUCE: Huh. That’s weird. I seem to be missing three million dollars.

He pulls up transaction records. Several suspicious withdrawals appear, labeled:

• “Self-Care Is Not a Crime”

• “Literally Just Vibes”

• “Tax? I Don’t Know Her”

• “For the Greater Good (Don’t Worry About It)”

Bruce sighs. He already knows who did this.

Cut to the living room. Jason is sprawled across the couch in a designer hoodie and ripped jeans, sipping a fancy iced coffee. Damian is sitting nearby, playing with a baby tiger. Dick, Tim, and Duke are casually admiring expensive new gadgets.

Bruce storms in, waving his tablet like an arrest warrant.

BRUCE: Jason!

JASON, without looking up: What’s up, king?

BRUCE: Don’t king me. Where is my money?

JASON: Whoa, okay, first of all, lower your voice. You’re really coming in with some aggressive energy right now. Maybe take a deep breath?

BRUCE: YOU STOLE THREE MILLION DOLLARS!

JASON, gasps: Stole? Bruce. That is a very harmful word. I didn’t steal it. I redirected it.

BRUCE: TO WHERE?!

JASON: Oh, you know. Places.

BRUCE, crossing arms: What places?

JASON, sipping coffee: I feel like you’re attacking me right now, and I don’t think I deserve that.

BRUCE: Jason.

JASON: Fine. I bought Damian a tiger.

BRUCE, blinking: You… what?

DAMIAN, petting the tiger cub: His name is Alexander, and he is perfect.

BRUCE: You can’t just buy a tiger and bring it in here without my permission!

DAMIAN: He also bought me a falcon.

BRUCE: A TIGER AND A FALCON?!

JASON: Oh my god, why are you freaking out? You’re a billionaire. Three million dollars is nothing to you. That’s like, what? The cost of a nice lunch in Gotham?

BRUCE: THAT’S NOT—JASON. YOU CANNOT JUST TAKE MONEY FROM ME.

JASON: Ugh. Fine. I’ll pay you back.

BRUCE: You will?

JASON: Yeah. On an emotional level. By continuing to bring joy into this household.

BRUCE: That is NOT how debt works!

JASON: Sounds like a you problem.

DICK: Yeah, Bruce, you really need to stop stressing.

TIM: You do have a lot of money.

DUKE: And Jason did get us all stuff.

DICK: He got me a custom motorcycle.

TIM: And the rarest coffee blend in the world.

DUKE: I got a brand new gaming PC with a holographic display.

DAMIAN: And my tiger is perfect.

BRUCE: I AM SURROUNDED BY CRIMINALS.

JASON: Okay, whoa. First of all? That is slander. Second, I think we should really take a moment to reflect on why you’re so mad at me when, in reality, you should be mad at the system.

BRUCE: I’m mad at you because you took my money.

JASON: Sounds like internalized capitalism, big guy.

BRUCE: Jason. Transfer the money back.

JASON, checking nails: No.

BRUCE: JASON.

JASON, sipping coffee: Bruce.

BRUCE, gritting teeth: If you do not give me back my money right now, I will personally make sure you never see another dollar again.

JASON, gasps dramatically: Wow. You would financially cut off your own son? Do you hear yourself right now? You’re being really toxic.

BRUCE: I—WHAT—HOW AM I THE BAD GUY HERE?!

JASON, leaning back, smug: Just some food for thought.

Bruce inhales sharply, looks like he’s about to explode, then just… turns and leaves. He’s too tired for this. Jason fist-bumps Damian. The others go back to admiring their new gifts.

Cut to: A Tropical Beach Resort.

Selina, Barbara, Stephanie, and Cass lounge in luxury cabanas, sipping cocktails. They are living their best lives.

SELINA, checking phone: Huh. Bruce texted me, “Jason stole three million dollars.”

BARBARA, shrugging: Sounds like a him problem.

SELINA, grinning: He also just sent “I hate this family.”

CASS, holding up phone: Jason’s new Instagram story says, “justice for me.”

STEPH, sipping drink: You know what? I don’t miss them.

The girls all clink their drinks together as the sun sets.

[phyrestartr]

The Intern [2] | Miguel O'hara x M!Reader

#NSFW, Age Gap (mid 20s and mid 30s), reader's a homewrecker, Miguel's a cheater, mentions of toxic marriage, male!reader, bussy loading, porn with feelings, Miguel's a bit of a dickhead, top Miguel (for now), bottom reader (for now), blowjob, reader gets lectured and likes it, reader has daddy issues

Note: heheheheh

-- The Intern --

[ How it Started: 1/2 ] [2/2]

Miguel had to admit, he was surprised–he didn’t expect you to carry on like nothing happened.

Most people he’d fucked around with in the past, be it in school or during his tenacious dating life, would stomp their feet and quit whatever club, sport, or job they’d joined just to get close to Miguel, just to get a shot with him. He couldn’t blame them. He saw himself as a pretty good-looking guy, a smart man, one that took care of himself and could turn on the charm without even trying; he got what he wanted more often than not, and that included the people who threw themselves at him. He always wondered why they thought they’d somehow cement themselves into his life after just one night. 

But then there was you. You, who still sat with Gabi when you had the time. You, who still helped her with her homework, who still listened to her long-winded rants about whatever movie she obsessed over that week, who still got the shy little thing to talk and smile and laugh. It made something weird and thick weigh down Miguel’s chest, like molasses found a way to suffocate him from the outside. Maybe you didn’t deserve to be fucked and forgotten like the rest. 

And he found you there, still, on a day where Gabi was busy with a playdate at the Parker’s household. Maybe this was the best chance he’d get to talk to you again. 

“Alone, huh?” Miguel asked before sitting across from you, a cup of coffee warming his hands. “Kinda sad.”

You sighed and looked out the window, filled to the brim with drama. “You’re tellin’ me. I got abandoned by a kid. This is worse than bein’ stood up, let me tell ya.” 

Yikes. Was what Miguel did the same as standing you up? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to think about it too much. 

"Right, right." Miguel cleared his throat and leaned in a little. "About the other night–" 

"What?" You asked, looking a little too dumb for your internship spot suddenly. 

"Halloween." Miguel looked at you meaningfully and your lips pursed slowly, just like the day he first saw you. Miguel gave a tight-lipped smile. 

You leaned back in your seat and crossed your arms. "I, uh, dunno if this is the right place to talk about that. Dunno if there is a right place to talk about that, if 'm bein' honest." 

"Let's talk in my office," Miguel said, not offering room for argument or questions as he stood and started walking. 

"Wh–now?" 

"Yes, now." 

–

Well, you were supposed to be talking, not blowing him under the desk. Thank god the department heads got their own private spaces. 

One of Miguel's big hands fisted in your hair, holding back your soft locks so he could get a good look at your face as it twisted in concentration. You took him too easily for how big he was, each languid dip of your head welcoming him down your tight, hot throat until–until–

"Mierda–" Miguel pushed your head down to his base, forcing your nose flush up against his well-trimmed hair and blushing skin. You groaned and gagged as he bucked into your mouth and unloaded thick, sticky strands of cum down your throat. You swallowed around him, doing your best to take it all down. 

A harsh bite from you had Miguel letting go and leaning back in his seat. He panted and rubbed his face, but his eyes snapped back to you as you took your time getting off of him. He expected you to pull off and make a mess while you snapped and scolded him, but you went slowly, not rushing. 

Your tongue worked him through the aftershocks, rubbing under his length and thoughtfully tracing the thick veins and sensitive muscle still pulsing from your pampering. Miguel's fingers carded through your hair again as he watched you work; your hand slipped up and gripped his base once enough was out of your mouth to hold. You ran your tongue around him once, twice, thrice, before sucking on that thick, darkened head for much longer than necessary. Maybe you just wanted to be thorough. Maybe you just couldn't get enough of him. 

"Gonna get me worked up again, 'f you keep doing shit like that," Miguel warned, something of an excited laugh fluttering through this soft panting. 

You took a second to swallow (Oh, God, you were torturing him) before wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "Do you want me to get you all worked up again, Doc?" 

That pesky hand around his shaft tightened before stroking him firmly and fully. Miguel sighed and melted into his chair. He could probably let you pamper him for hours, if his sex drive were to be trusted. Maybe he could–

"Kidding," you said with a mean wink. You kissed the tip of his cock before letting go and parking your ass on his desk. "So. About Halloween?" 

Miguel blinked away the whiplash and scrambled to tuck himself away. "I, uh–yeah. Halloween." He nodded to himself in thought, definitely remembering what he wanted to discuss. 

You stared at him, so expectant, before leaning in and resting your elbows on your knees. "N'awe, did I suck the brain cells right outta your pretty head, Doc?" You fake pouted, and Miguel scowled. 

And he blushed. Just a little. "I just–I was just–y'know what? Maybe you deserved it."

"Pft. I deserved what?" You asked, leaning back onto your palms then. “Bein’ hit then quit?” 

Miguel frowned. His brows drew together and his jaw set uncomfortably while he looked away. It seemed to make you a little uncomfortable by the way you moved to reach toward him before deciding against it. Your hand combed through your hair instead and you sighed, surrendering. 

“Look, I–if I seriously expected the royal treatment from a guy totin’ a wedding band on his pretty lil’ finger, I’d be a shockin’ moron, alright?" You sighed and rubbed your face with both hands. "I mean--it's just s'pposed to be sex, man. Sex ain't complicated like that." 

Miguel narrowed his eyes at you. "I’m–what are you–sex is complicated." His palms landed on your thighs as he leaned in. “You don’t actually think–”

"Sex is busting and moving on with life,” You interrupted sharply. You grew tense for a moment, but forced a relaxed laugh. “I'm kinda surprised you didn't get me fired, if I'm being real."  

The realization hit Miguel fast and hard, knocking the goddamn wind out of his stupid lungs--you were the type of guy left in the dust, the sort that shit heads like Miguel hit and quit, fucked and forgot. The sorry dregs of an exciting sex life filled with names he didn't care about and some he couldn't bother to remember. But Miguel knew your name. But did that even matter to you?

"But, uh…I should get goin', so. Yeah. Good talk." You made your move to shuffle off the desk, but Miguel's hands on your thighs didn't budge. "Oy, I gotta go, old man. You hard of hearing already? Should I call the nursing home or–" 

"Santa Muerte, do you ever stop talking?" Miguel sighed and shook his head. "I haven't said my piece yet, kid." 

You pursed your lips, probably holding back some cursed joke about giving him a blowie, and nodded. "Okay. Say your piece." 

"I will. And you're gonna shut up while I talk, got it?" 

"Got it." 

"Good." Miguel took a deep breath to calm the storm in his chest. "First of all, you've got the wrong idea about sex. It matters. Even if you're just sleeping around, it's because you're looking for that connection. It's a good thing. A beautiful thing. So, I don't want to hear you say all this shit about sex not mattering. Especially when you're talking about sex with me." He looked you up and down, and the fond feeling curled up his chest stretched and lazed like a cat sunbathing. "Got it?" 

You nodded, a vibrant dusting of red saturating your skin. That doe-eyed look was back on your face, just like the first time you'd hooked up with him in his office. He really did adore it. He maybe kinda adored you. 

"Good." He fidgeted with your slacks, pulling on the crisp material with busy fingers as he thought about sentence structure and syntax and connotation and–and– 

Just say it, Miguel. "I shouldn't have left you on Halloween." 

You laughed shyly. "I--what?" He watched you rub your cheek like you were trying to rid yourself of the scarlet blush staining your skin. Miguel had to admit, your reactions were doing wonders for his ego. 

"I said," He started, leaning in a little, lowering his voice. "I shouldn't have left you on Halloween." After a pause, a beat to get you to say something, he continued, "I'm sorry, alright? It's not happening again." 

Another laugh (more like a giggle) bubbled out of you, just as nervous and shy as the last. Your hands fussed with your hair and your tie, your lab coat and your cuffs, until your nerves calmed a bit, the slow circles rubbed into your thighs helping to ease you down from hysteria. It was embarrassing. You were embarrassed. But you were happy.

"Y-yeah, alright. Cool. Neat." You coughed. "Awesome. Uh, I just–you–I have to–" and you leaned down, almost tumbling off the desk, and kissed him. 

Miguel hummed deep in his chest–a heartfelt welcome to your needs and wants. His chair shifted slightly as you haphazardly slipped off the desk and into his lap, expertly never breaking the kiss, and getting comfortable; your arms looped around his shoulders, your hands fisted and carded through his hair, your thighs rested on either side of his slim waist. 

“You’re shockin’ hot when you’re bein’ nice t’ me,” you mumbled against his lips, maybe a bit into his mouth. “But in that, y’know, authoritative dad kinda way.” Your breath stuttered when a mischievous hand slipped into your slacks and cupped your toned ass with a firm squeeze. 

Miguel smirked. “Daddy issues, huh?” Your small scoff and the firm tug of his hair answered him. His smirk warped into a grin. “Want me to scold you more, huh? You get off on that?” 

“You keep talkin’ shit and I’m calling you papi in public, dickhead,” you mumbled as you fumbled with the zipper of his pants. You paused though, and looked up in thought. “But you could help me with my taxes. That’d be really sexy of you.” 

Miguel blinked stupidly for a moment before chuckling and shaking his head. “Why am I not surprised you’re shit at taxes?” God, you were cute. 

“Hey, hey, I’m not shit at them, I just hate them.” You shrugged before very casually slipping his hard-on out of his pants and giving it a few preparatory strokes. “Could use some tips.”

“Or an accountant,” Miguel offered. It was your turn to blink dumbly. “You think I handle my own money? I pay someone to do it.” 

“Huh. You’re seriously in a different tax bracket.” You squeaked when Miguel somehow managed to rip down your slacks down to your mid-thigh. “Hey–” 

“I’ll buy you a new pair.” He helped the pants off of you while you half-stood to get the damn things off, letting them hang off one leg in your haste to get the party started. “And I’ll get my accountant to take care of your taxes.” 

That had you beaming. “I think we’re entering sugar daddy territory, Doc.” You grinned between the sweet kisses you dotted along his jawline. Miguel felt the barest scraping of teeth against his skin, and his cock swelled more. What he wouldn’t give to let you bite and marr him as you wanted. 

But he couldn’t, not with Dana’s skeptical eyes and Gabi’s naive glances watching him from every angle. 

“It’s our little secret,” Miguel whispered with a kiss left against your cheek. 

Your lips found his again, letting your  impish smile sear his skin with sanguine intent, like a contract signed with the devil. 

Miguel would do anything to keep extending that contract. 

[sweetvixen1996]

Looking at the Kiss the Villain Playlist: Part 1/14

Power by Isak Danielson: This song is about feeling trapped in a relationship, realizing the other person never really loved you, though you put everything into it. All the narrator wanted was someone to adore them, but realizing this will never happen makes them finally seek liberation from the toxic relationship.

He's My Man by Luvcat: This is a lovely little ballad about a woman who is obsessed with her partner to the point of not wanting to let him leave her side for a single minute. When love and attachment turn into a toxic obsession, it leads to the narrator poisoning the man to make him stay forever.

Daddy Issues by The Neighborhood: This song is about two destructive people in a likely doomed relationship through no fault of their own. Because of their treatment at the hands of their different fathers, they can empathize with each other's pain but are struggling with how to truly trust each other enough to have a real relationship.

Strangers by Ethel Cain: OOOOHHHH BOY! This is a crazy one. Because of Cain's unique vocal style, understanding the lyrics of this song is a bit difficult. Upon first listening, mostly due to the chorus, it can seem like a sadly romantic song about longing for a distant partner. HOWEVER, because this is the last song on a concept album, it is impossible to remove Strangers from the larger narrative of the character, Ethel Cain's, tragic life and eventually horrible end. The album chronicles Ethel's birth into a small town as a respected preacher's daughter, her fleeing her sexually abusive household in search of the stereotypical American Dream, to losing her first and truest love, and finally being abducted, used, abused, and eventually killed and cannibalized by a man named Isaiah. Strangers is about Ethel, now dead, watching on as she is consumed; wavering between her horror at her fate and her lingering desire to still be loved by this horrible man while also addressing her mother, who will never know Ethel's fate. This song and the larger album are genuinely fantastic -especially if you love lyrical analysis.

Apocalypse by Cigarettes After Sex: Finally, a hopeful song! Here, the narrator acknowledges that his new partner has suffered in her past relationships. However, he urges her to let go of the heartbreak, and the fear of feeling let down and to embrace the beauty and pain of a new relationship. Ultimately, it is a song about trust, and how it is needed to let a relationship grow.

So, what can this all tell us?

Well, for one, we can guess that Gareth is in for a hard time. It's clear to me that Gareth suffered his own share of trauma from his childhood with Killian -who I do believe behaved abusively toward him- and the pressure he felt to be the family's Golden Boy. And, considering that Daddy Issues is a song about two people with similar trauma finding comfort with each other, it's possible Kayden understands Gareth's pain and anger. I'm willing to bet that Gareth, probably without wanting to, finds himself drawn to Kayden as a source of comfort and support. Which would be sweet, except that all these songs point to an element of manipulation and misuse of one partner to the other. Now, because of God of War, we know Gareth thankfully won't end up killed and cannibalized by Kayden, but I do wonder if this relationship will have a happy ending.

[aceswritingcorner]

Cheating, house husband! dabi, mutual cheating, compress being a flirt.

Wc: 614 words

—-

House Husband! Dabi who’s the definition of toxic. He’s a pretty trophy husband.

House Husband! Dabiwho gets upset when his pretty little partner doesn’t cook and clean up after coming home from work like he expects. You just worked a long day and now coming home to a mess.

Dishes in the sink, laundry piling up by the washing machine. A burned out wick from the candle that was lit last night, wax all melted onto the coffee table. That was going to have to be scraped off-

“Dabi?”

Lewd noises were coming from the bedroom, platform boots tossed aside from your husband, bed creaking from whatever movement was on top of the old box spring and mattress. He was doing something again-

“Dabi?” You tried again, calling out the name of the man that you married. It wasn’t a nice life, god it wasn’t easy either, but at least there was someone that you could share a bed with. Even if you had to take control of the household chores.. and handling your job.

“What the hell do you want, doll? Why aren’t those done?” His gruff voice speaks up as he walks into the rancid apartment. “I’m busy right now, go get your shit done.” The box spring squeaking with every movement that he makes, pornographic moans coming from whatever girl he picked up from off the streets. This was just to be expected by now, he was just a pretty trophy husband, if that.

..There wasn’t much else to say when it came down to Dabi.

But maybe something fair would make things better. The door shutting behind you as the moans become silenced once more, Dabi’s unenthusiastic grunts leaving him. Maybe finding some random guy to fuck would make you feel better…

“What is a lovely face like yours doing looking so solemn, darling?” A man spoke up, adorned in an oddly fitted suit. A white mask covering his face completely. “Someone as lovely as you does not deserve to frown, darling. Perhaps I might be of assistance to help give a performance if that would bring your mood back up?”

You glanced at the man, swallowing thinly before looking around. No one else was one the street… Wasn’t this the same guy that Dabi worked with? What was his name?..

“I- I’m sorry… who are you?”

“Oh- my apologies, my dear. I go by the name of Compress, but you may call me Atsuhiro.” The masked man spoke, offering a gloved hand. “Perhaps I can provide some company for the night, it is a shame that you are alone.”

…were you alone?

Dabi was at home.. but it wasn’t you in that bed. Sure- hell, anytime you did share a bed with him it ended in something amazing but- it wasn’t fair, was it? To work and come back… back to your husband. Back to him fucking someone else…

Maybe it was time to get a little revenge against him.

-

You didn’t know how it got to this-

Finding refuge in his arms, your steps matching his as his arms wrap around your waist. Passing breaths escaping as you break away from his lips for a small moment before chasing after him again. Mask pulled up from his face, the stupid black cover curling around your fingers as you desperately tugged it up to see the man’s face.

“Please.”

Atsuhiro lifted an eyebrow, a soft chuckle leaving him as he helps lift the covering away from his face before looking at you, lifting you up into his arms.

“Don’t worry, darling, I promise to take care of you properly. Just how you deserve to be treated, mi amor.”