#but NOW??? i still cry. because i think of my mom. and the fact that she's the reason i'm so attached to these songs in the first place ;_;

[made-my-peace-with-all-the-bad]

My arm has been twisted and I now offer the people of tumblr my 1800 word Darry yap:

Thinking about Darry and his parents. More specifically, Darry and his dad. How they must’ve been so close. How Darry loved both of his parents to the moon and back, but he just had a special bond with his dad. He knew he could always rely on him, so since he was three, he’s always wanted his dad. If he woke up from a nightmare, if he was sick, if he fell and scraped his knee, he always wanted his dad. How he felt so guilty about that for a while. It wasn’t until he was eight and realized that Soda was always reaching for their mama that he started to feel a little better. He felt like it was ok that he reached for their dad when his brothers reached for their mom.

How Darry grew up carrying so much pride in the fact that his father gave him his name. He loved that a piece of his dad was always with him. He also knew how proud his dad was of him. How he knew Darry would do some much in his life. He saw the way his father’s face filled with joy when Darry showed him his first football jersey with the name Curtis on the back. He remembers opening up a college acceptance letter and scholarship and immediately running to his dad. How Darry had handed him the letter and his father’s eyes had filled with tears. How that was the first time Darry saw his dad cry. He remembers how his dad had put a hand on his shoulder to reassure him right before the state championship game and told him that no matter what, he was proud of him. He remembers that after his dad had went to go find his mom and brothers, he’d made a silent promise that he’d do everything he could to win. And he did.

He also remembers the night before he was going up to his college dorm. How he’d sat in his room, his backpack open and completely empty. He’d looked around at the room he’d grown up in, and he was scared. He was terrified. How he’d walked over to his dresser and picked up a framed picture of him and his parents and brothers right after the championship game. Darry’s hair was sweaty against his head, but he had the biggest smile on his face. Ponyboy and Soda were hugging him, also with big smiles. His mom looked so proud of her son. But the only face he could focus on was his father’s. How his dad had a smile that rivaled Darry’s. Darry felt his chest swell with emotion looking at the photo. And suddenly, there were drops on the glass that covered the picture. Then, his father was standing in the doorframe. But by the time Darry had blinked, his dad was sitting next to him on his bed. His dad just reached out and let Darry, his first son, the boy who carried his name, the boy who made him a father, cry into his shoulder. Because he shouldn’t be this stressed about leaving. He should be excited, lord knows Darrel Sr would’ve been if he’d gone to college. But here he was, venting out all his fears while his dad just reassured him that he’d be fine. And he had Paul too. Even if he wouldn’t see his family every day, he still had a piece of home with him, after all, Paul was going to be his roommate so he’d probably see him so much they’d be sick of each other.

But then, his dad died. And suddenly, Darry was standing in the living room of the house he grew up, 15 feet from his dad’s chair, being told that his parents were gone. Dead. Suddenly, he was telling the cop that he would become his brothers’ legal guardian. Suddenly, filling out the paper work and writing down his name made nausea swirl in his stomach and made his head hurt. Because that wasn’t his name. That was his dad’s name. But that didn’t matter right now, what mattered was keeping his brothers safe and home. So he just filled it out and gave it to the state. He dropped out of college. He got a full time job at the same place his dad used to work. And he was slowly becoming Darrel.

Darry left the house six times during the week Pony was gone. Five of those times were to go to work because bills didn’t care if your baby brother could be dead somewhere. The other time was to go to the cemetery. Normally he would’ve taken Soda, but he couldn’t this time. Because he wasn’t even out of the car before he broke down sobbing. He cried in his car for a little bit, before deciding he needs to do what he came to do. So he got up, and walked over to the headstone at his mom and dad’s grave. He sat down and just started apologizing. He told them he was so sorry. He was so sorry that he couldn’t protect his brothers. He was so sorry that their baby ran away and it was his fault. He was so sorry for hurting them. He told them he didn’t know how they did it. He told them he wished they would come back. He wished they’d never left in the first place. He wished that Pony would come home. How he knew he didn’t deserve it, but he wished it brother would come home. Maybe not even for him, but for Soda. He told them that he couldn’t stand the fear he’d seen fill Pony’s eyes after he hit him. He looked at the gravestone with his parents names carved in it, and he told them he never meant to fuck up this bad. He told them that maybe it’d be better if Soda and Pony were with someone else. Maybe he just wasn’t cut out to be taking care of them. He told them that he knew Pony hated him, he knew Pony thought Darry hated him. Darry swore he didn’t, he loved his brothers more than anything. He didn’t even remember when he started crying, he just tasted the salt of tears in his mouth. So he shut his eyes tight in an attempt to stop them, because who the hell was he to cry? He did this, why should he get to be upset over it?

And in that moment, with his eyes shut, he could’ve sworn he felt his father’s reassuring hand on his shoulder, or his mother’s warm fingers wipe away the tears running down his cheeks. Maybe it was the wind, but Darry would’ve sworn that he heard their voices reassuring him. Maybe he was crazy, but he stood up and thanked them anyway. He’d told them he loved them and that he was going to do everything he could to bring their baby back home.

Darry mentally kicked himself when he got home and saw the kitchen light on. Because that meant Soda had and he was probably freaking out at waking up to an empty house in the middle of the night. So, Darry braced himself for the worst. But what he didn’t expect, was seeing the kitchen and living room empty. Confused, he’d gone to Soda’s room, it was also empty, but it was clear that Soda had been sleeping there because his half of the bed was all messed up, like someone had been tossing and turning. It wasn’t until he reached his own bedroom door that he heard quiet cries. So he’d pushed open the door and was met with the sight of Soda, curled in on himself, body shaking while he cried. Darry was immediately sent into older brother mode while he walked over to his brother. He’d knelt down in front of him and quietly asked him what was wrong. Soda’s head shot up at his brother’s voice and he just whispered out that he’d thought Darry had left too. And the sight of his little brother looking so scared and small broke Darry’s heart even further, something he didn’t even think was possible. It wasn’t until he’d managed to calm down Soda enough to convince him that he wasn’t going anywhere, that he saw Soda holding something. It was a frame. And in it was the picture of their family from Darry’s senior year. The photo with Darry smiling the biggest he ever had. The photo with Pony and Soda clinging to their big brother because of how amazing they thought he was. And then there was his mom, who looked so proud of him that he almost started crying. Lastly, there was his dad. His dad with the proud smile, equally as big as Darry’s. His dad who had taken off a whole day of work just to drive the whole family out to see him play. His dad who taught Darry how to play football in the first place. And looking at him did make Darry start to cry. So he pulled Soda close, and they just looked down at their family photo. Their family before it was shattered and separated. Their family when it was whole, and complete, and happy.

Soda spent the night in Darry’s room after that. He refused to let Darry out of his sight for fear that he was gone or he was going to leave the minute Soda fell asleep. But when they were both tucked in Darry’s too small bed, Soda finally let himself succumb to sleep. But Darry couldn’t sleep. He was too busy thinking about his dad. How would he feel seeing Darry now? Would he be proud of how his son stepped up? Or would he shake his head in disappointment and say that Darry was hurting his brothers? Then, Darry lets his mind wander to thoughts of how things would be if his parents never died. Would he wake up to his mom laughing at her 20 and 16 year old sons sleeping in a full size bed? Would he walk out to see his dad reading the paper in his chair? Would he kiss his mama’s cheek then ask his dad if they were watching the game on Sunday? Would his dad say that he had work, but somehow still turn up in time to watch at least half of it with him? Would he be working with his dad? No, he’d probably still be at college. Maybe starting his junior year by now. Maybe his dad would joke that his son would be in the draft in a few years. Maybe he’d call his brother’s and give them relationship advice while Paul sat on his bed giggling at him. Maybe in that world, he could look at pictures of his parents without longing for one more conversation. One more rushed goodbye because he was late. One more time that his dad patted him on the back. One more time his dad gave him a proud smile and said he was glad his son wore his name.

[the-stranger-of-the-hidden-world]

"Dragons who eat other dragons. It's not very common, but there are some kinds that do. The lightning breathers are one of them." Stranger elaborated, reaching out to put a hand on Lyra's shoulder. "It scares us, too...but it's just a fact of life. Bigger creatures need more food to survive. And sometimes...that food is smaller and more vulnerable dragons like us. All we need to do is avoid getting eaten and we're okay."

When Lyra sat down on the ground and explained herself, Stranger and Sunchaser both listened intently while Seabreak and Streak continued to wrestle each other. Maybe it was the stress and worry, or maybe they just needed a moment to relax and play, but they didn't seem too concerned, anymore.

The woman watched curiously with rapt attention as the fae woman made a flower bloom before her eyes, trilling excitedly at the sight of it. So, magic was just this...miraculous ability she had. No wonder humans tried to attack her and use her. That kind of power would be terrifying to those who didn't understand it...or alluring to those who wanted to use it for themselves.

It was sad that Lyra was outcasted for not being fullblooded...'dirty blood.' What a horrible concept. "To be fair, if I tried to learn your language, I don't think I'd sound that different than you do right now. Nothing wrong with learning something new." Stranger replied, sitting next to Lyra and admiring the slowly dwindling dusk as the stars began to dot the sky above them, Sunchaser yawning and laying down beside them, letting them lean against him for comfort if they needed to. It was a relief to see that Lyra was healing quickly, thanks to her magic. They were glad to help her...helpless prey was not very sporting and dragons with less regard for that sort of thing wouldn't hesitate to snap up the fae for a meal.

They knew what it was like to feel vulnerable. Their soft scales, smaller bodies, and stark white scales made them easier targets.

Stranger sighed softly through her nose, leaning against her brother as she looked up at the night sky. "Our old alpha - a really cranky dragon named Slate - she...well, she didn't exactly want me when our mother first took me home." She explained, reminiscing on her early days in the Hidden World. Those memories were a bit hazy, but what she did remember was as clear as day to her. "I...I was on a ship. I was little. I couldn't have been more than maybe a few years old. I remember the ship being destroyed...I remember floating away from the wreckage, crying out for my mother. I remember drifting away and ending up on the very edge of the Mothermouth and crying out because I was so scared...and then our mother - Moondance - found me. And...instead of eating me, she scooped me up and took me home and put me in her nest. Our father - Cloud - was a bit worried about raising me, but our mother insisted that I stay. When Slate found out...she was angry. She demanded that mother take me back and leave me to die, but...she refused. She even fought Slate to keep me and...well, I slept next to my brothers that night when they hatched. And we've all been together ever since - even despite all the trouble we've gotten into."

Sunchaser huffed, ear flapping as he listened to his sister tell Lyra how she wound up in their little family. "The stampede with those big shiny armoured dragons was as much Seabreak's fault as it was yours. Mom keeps telling you not to take the fall for him and you still keep doing it."

Stranger huffed, lightly smacking the yellow white dragon with the back of her hand. "I didn't want him to get in trouble with Slate...and it's easier for her to blame me than it is to blame him. Even if I didn't, she would've still blamed me...why bother arguing with her?"

Grumbling, the elder dragon curled around the both of them, resting his tail lightly on Lyra's lap. He wasn't sure how long she had been on that beach, but she must've been rather cold. "At least Mirage isn't as cranky. The most she does is give us the occasional scolding from time to time."

Chuckling, she trilled softly at him. "Hard to think she's so serious, now...I remember when she used to play tricks on us when we were younger just because she liked making us look undignified compared to her." Glancing over at Lyra, Stranger hummed thoughtfully. Lyra was alone, now. She wasn't sure how fae family and social structures functioned, but she couldn't help but empathize with the feeling of not belonging...well, anywhere, really. "I guess you're a stranger among your own, too."

Lyra yelped as Seabreak tumbled into Streak. But once she realized they were playing she giggled. Watching them happily. Though her smile turned worried as she listened to Stranger explain their world.

It sounded like they left of their own will. It also sounded like it was dangerous for them.

“Dragon eaters?!” She looked at Stranger scared. What would eat dragons?! What was dangerous enough to do that?

Lyra found a soft spot on the grass and laid down on her good side. Curling up and watching the brothers play. Lyra knew the questions would come and when her new friend asked the fae gave her a small smile.

“Fae connect to elements. Like fire, water, earth. I am forest fae. I connect to plants.” Lyra reached out and placed her hand on the grass. Slowly lifting her hand to reveal a purple lily flower growing and then blooming before their eyes.

“I help grow. I also help heal. Myself and others.” Lyra pointed to her arm where the gashes were almost completely healed. Laying there felt so nice. Lyra felt her magic returning and the pain of the day was fading away. She closed her eyes as she continued to speak.

“Magic how I speak with you. It give me knowledge to speak dragon. But I still learning. Speak like hatchling.” She giggled.

“But I only half fae. I half human too. Faes don’t like. Call me dirty blood. So forced to leave. I lived alone. Travel a lot to find new home.”

[bending-sickle]

hello internet tell me i’m my hair is pretty

[youremyonlyhope]

why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up

[relicsongmel]

9 year-old Melanie 🤝 24 year-old Melanie

Being Mentally Unwell about the Mamma Mia soundtrack

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[mcmansionhell]

2007-core nostalgia extravaganza

Quick PSA: someone on Facebook is apparently impersonating me using an account called "McMansion Hell 2.0" -- If you see it, please report! Thanks!

Howdy folks! I hope if you were born between 1995 and 2001 you're ready for some indelible pre-recession vibes because I think this entire house, including the photos have not been touched since that time.

This Wake County, NC house, built in 2007, currently boasts a price tag of 1.7 million smackaroos. Its buxom 4 bedrooms and 4.5 baths brings the total size to a completely reasonable and not at all housing-bubble-spurred 5,000 square feet.

I know everyone (at least on TikTok) thinks 2007 and goes immediately to the Tuscan theming trend that was super popular at the time (along with lots of other pseudo-euro looks, e.g. "french country" "tudor" etc). In reality, a lot of decor wasn't particularly themed at all but more "transitional" which is to say, neither contemporary nor super traditional. This can be pulled off (in fact, it's where the old-school Joanna Gaines excelled) but it's usually, well, bland. Overwhelmingly neutral. Still, these interiors stir up fond memories of the last few months before mommy was on the phone with the bank crying.

I think I've seen these red/navy/beige rugs in literally every mid-2000s time capsule house. I want to know where they came from first and how they came to be everywhere. My mom got one from Kirkland's Home back in the day. I guess the 2010s equivalent would be those fake distressed overdyed rugs.

I hate the kitchen bench trend. Literally the most uncomfortable seating imaginable for the house's most sociable room. You are not at a 19th century soda fountain!!! You are a salesforce employee in Ohio!!!

You could take every window treatment in this house and create a sampler. A field guide to dust traps.

Before I demanded privacy, my parents had a completely beige spare bedroom. Truly random stuff on the walls. An oversized Monet poster they should have kept tbh. Also putting the rug on the beige carpet here is diabolical.

FYI the term "Global Village Coffeehouse" originates with the design historian Evan Collins whose work with the Consumer Aesthetics Research Institute!!!!

This photo smells like a Yankee Candle.

Ok, now onto the last usable photo in the set:

No but WHY is the house a different COLOR??????? WHAT?????

Alright, I hope you enjoyed this special trip down memory lane! Happy (American) Labor Day Weekend! (Don't forget that labor is entitled to all it creates!)

If you like this post and want more like it, support McMansion Hell on Patreon for as little as $1/month for access to great bonus content including a discord server, extra posts, and livestreams.

Not into recurring payments? Try the tip jar! Student loans just started back up!

[lauriemarch]

and at the end of the day, people will still hate women.

because beyonce is a terrible songwriter who has a good body and nothing more and she's really nothing compared to olivia rodrigo, that stuck-up bitch who steals other people's music, but taylor swift is an old, bitter nothing who clearly hates other girls. and sabrina carpenter deserves to die because she followed her heart, not her brain, and that's exactly why zendaya will never be good enough for tom holland. don't forget about kylie jenner, who's stealing precious timothee's innocence away and dating her is like committing arthouse cinema suicide, or how we said the same thing about miley cyrus and her disgusting profanity, think of the children, poor liam hemsworth, trapped in a marriage with such a horrible woman. lana del rey was hot until she was big and she made trailerpark sexy until her ass got a little too fat. and ariana grande, talentless homewrecker, and selena gomez, jealous and unreasonable, and hailey bieber, even more boring than the blood drying on the knives you are so quick to pull. sophie turner is a bad mom and megan thee stallion deserved whatever was coming to her.

and amidst all of this, we still don't know these women. we cannot fathom the pain of having a public divorce, one where people choose sides and hurl insults at you until the battery on their phone dies. we don't watch them chase after sweet-cheeked children in tucked-away backyards or play board games with their best friends while their chests heave in laughter. we don't know their marriages and we don't know their solitudes. we don't watch them unravel themselves, time and time again, preparing for the battle that we have made of their lives. they can never make a mistake. they can never cry. they can never be who they believe themselves to be.

and we take all of this and we go to work, we ride the bus, we go grocery shopping, we walk in dappled sunlight, and we let ourselves shrivel. i compare myself to every body i see and i comfort in the fact that i can still encircle my wrists with my fingers. food turns to dust in my mouth when i think about the fact that taylor swift thinks she's fat and people still hate sabrina carpenter for sticking by joshua bassett's side when he almost died, for God's sake, and now the people on my twitter feed are saying GUTS is the worst album they've ever heard. i liked it, the tiny voice in my head cries out. she wrote songs that made me feel noticed. they're calling the song i relate to the most a total skip.

so i close the app. i try not to think about the endless profiles screaming about how much they hate a nineteen/thirty-two/thirty-eight/twenty-three/twenty-six/forty-two year old. i try not to think about how much they would hate me, if they knew anything at all.

[evanpetersmybf]

Be mine?

Tate Langdon x female!reader

Summary: Meeting you was his destiny. He had to make you his so he could feel alive... It was meant to be.

Genre: Smut.

Word count: 3,172

Warnings: Virgin and inexperienced reader, mentions of bullying, self-harm (just once and is nothing detailed), obsessive and stalkish behavior, swearing, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected p in v and cumshot.

A/N: English isn't my first language and this is my first time writing smut, so sorry if it sucks or if I have grammatical mistakes or something TT. Btw, also sorry if Tate's out of character. Anyways, hope you enjoy it!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ཐི ♡ ཋྀ

Tate had another bad day. It was the usual. Bullying, failed tests, the teacher humiliating him after he couldn’t solve a simple equation on the chalkboard, his mother scolding him. Nothing seemed new, and it seemed that nothing wasn’t going to change at any point.

He needed something, a reason to live, something to make him feel alive. Because he was dead. Dead in life, which in his own opinion, was even worse than being a rotten corpse.

He headed to the music store after secretly stealing some of his mom’s money, just a few bucks; the enough amount to buy a vinyl or some CD’s. Tate was sort of a music elitist, always believing that the artists nowadays just created pure, hollow, and trashy songs. In fact, he didn’t believe those could even be considered music.

Walking around the nearly empty store, rummaging through the shelves filled with Nirvana vinyl’s, someone bumped into him.

“Oh, sorry.” You spoke, after accidentally taking too many steps back and bumping into Tate’s behinds.

He frowned, somewhat annoyed at you for disturbing his moment of peace. The blonde turned around to look at who it was, scanning your body from head to toe, taking note of your appearance. Then, his dark eyes drifted to the sign that was on top the shelf, which indicated the musical genre of the records that were on that rack. Alternative pop. His gaze went to the album you were hugging to yourself.

“Cry Baby? What type of crap is that?”

“Huh, excuse me?”

“Never mind, you won’t understand.” Tate talked in such a volatile and rude manner, already feeling superior because of his likes.

You arched an eyebrow. What was his problem? You did nothing to him and yet he was here, judging your amazing music taste.

“Well, people’s free to like whatever they want to, hmm?”

“Uh, yeah, but what’s the point of that if everything is so generic?”

“Have you ever listened to Melanie Martinez at least once?”

He shook his head no, still scowling, now fidgeting with a ring that was on one of his fingers.

“Have you listened to Nirvana?”

“Just like… Two songs?”

“Don’t tell me. Smells Like Teen Spirit?”

“Guilty.”

Tate rolled his eyes. What was going on with this generation? What happened to good music, to the greatest artists? Why was everyone just listening to trash?

After sharing your names and a few more words, debating about who was right and who wasn’t, you placed one of your hands over his right shoulder, as an attempt to stop his rant of how superior he was. And indeed, it worked. The teen stopped venting and stared at you, all confused and a bit uncomfortable. You noticed it and quickly stepped back, apologizing for touching him without permission. He told you it was okay, that you just surprised him. But deep down, that simple yet complex touch meant a lot to Tate, even if it was absolutely nothing to you.

For the first time he felt something more than sorrow.

“So… What do you think of this? I’ll make you listen to some songs by Melanie and other artists, and I’ll listen to your beloved beautiful grunge music.” You said those last words in a mocking way.

Tate huffed, clearly offended by the way you referred to his taste. Nevertheless, in the end he agreed with you.

After paying the stuff you two picked, both of you went to Tate’s place. As you walked next to him, your fingers brushed his, making his cheeks turn a light shade of red and his heart flutter. He felt dizzy, not sure about what was going on.

In his house, he took you to his room. The boy didn’t want his mother to see you, otherwise she’d be too nosy and probably scare you and push you away from him, and that was the last thing he wanted.

“Get comfy.” He mused, extending his hand as if inviting you to take a seat wherever you feel to.

“Thanks.” You sat on the floor, using one of the sides of the bed as a support for your back. He did the same and sat right next to you.

He was nervous. So damn nervous and excited. He brought a pretty chick to his place. The Tate Langdon, the outcast, the bullied, that Tate Langdon was in the same room with a girl? He couldn’t believe it.

“Ladies first.” Tate pointed the record-player with his thumb, and you obeyed, placing the CD in it. The music started playing.

“We could’ve used Spotify, y’know?”

“Nah, I don’t like it. I prefer the old school.”

‘Cry Baby’ was the first track that was listened to.

He squinted his eyes and rubbed his chin, analyzing the sounds, the melody, the harmony and of course the lyrics.

Although it wasn’t his style, you definitely were. The way you looked, talked, walked. How you stood up for your beliefs and didn’t allow him to step on you (even if you just discussed about music). It was new for him. He craved your independence. He craved you.

That was the very moment when he realized that you were the thing he was looking for all his life. You were the one who was meant to be his, he was meant to be yours. It was destiny. Tate truly believed it was some kind of divine prophecy, and he wasn’t going to let you go.

He was so immersed in his mind that he didn’t pay attention to the song anymore. He was solely focused on you, remembering how warm and kind your touch was, how sweet your voice was. ‘Oh, she’s mine’, he thought.

“So… That was the first track. Its name’s Cry Baby. Did you like it?”

Tate snapped out of it and bit his bottom lip. He didn’t listen to your question.

“I’m sorry, what did you?—”

“Did you like the song?”

“Ah, yeah yeah. It’s quite… Innovative. I’ve never heard something like that.”

You smiled and clapped your hands. “Of course! She’s such a genius. Let’s finish the album, hm?”

He just nodded, as a little smirk appeared on his face.

The days flew by, and Tate asked you out on many friendly dates. Or at least that’s what you thought because you were so oblivious at the fact that he had a fat crush on you.

With every hang out, you noticed that Tate was lonely. Like, really lonely. Maybe that’s why he was so clingy with you.

He told you about his family, about how annoying Constance was, about his siblings and about how his father left him behind. He also mentioned the bullying he suffered and almost talked about the self-harm but stopped himself.

Both of you grew closer, as his obsession.

Since you went to a different school, he would skip class and infiltrate your campus just to see you. He couldn’t stand being away from you. And if he did, his mind was full of you, thinking of you all day, unable to focus on his homework and tests. Tate didn’t care anymore if he failed subjects, as long as you were next to him, he was happy and alive.

The void he once felt, was now fulfilled with your mere presence. You could step on him, and he would thank you. In his twisted little mind, you were free to have everything of him.

He was willing to do anything to keep you by his side. The thought of losing was so terrifying that it would make him throw up.

Tate learned every single detail about you. Your mannerisms, your likes and dislikes, your dreams, and your fears. Everything. And that includes your schedule since you wake up, and since you go to sleep.

That was his definition of love. No one ever taught him about how to express it, and he ended up being the way he was with you.

One day he invited you over to his place. The Langdon's house was empty, and he was going to take advantage of it. No doubt.

“Your mom isn’t home?” You questioned as you followed him behind, going upstairs straight to his bedroom. Little did you know this wasn’t going to be another afternoon of playing board games while listening to some music.

“Nah, dunno where she went but she won’t be back any time soon.” He shrugged and let you inside of his private space,

You went to lay down on bed, feeling relief in your aching back after a long day at school. “Damn, I need some rest!”

Tate chuckled softly and sat on the edge, looking at you as you closed your eyes and tried to relax. He was focused on your steady and calm breathing, on how your breasts went up and down with every inhalation and exhalation. His eyes stared at your lips, at how kissable they looked. He felt a sudden desire, the intense urge to make you his. Feeling conflicted, he shook his head and tried to distract himself, pretending to ignore how aroused he was getting.

He wasn’t going to say it out loud, but of course he already had some wet dreams of you. He imagined you beneath him, your precious body shivering and responding to his touch, to his kisses. Your cunt wet and ready for him, just how he wanted to.

“Y/N…” Tate cooed, unable to hold back any longer.

“Yeah?” You opened one of your eyes and spotted him, sitting on the bed with his fists clenched over his thighs, while his breathing looked kinda rapid. “You ‘kay?”

“No.”

“Uh? What’s wrong?” You reincorporated and sat straight beside his warm figure. Your right hand touched his left, rubbing it up and down with your thumb.

Tate shoved you to the bed, pinning your arms above your head and holding them tight.

His breathing pattern was no longer normal. It was a heavy one.

His dark brown eyes locked with yours. Your orbs were wide, not understanding what the hell was going on. Or maybe you did but were in denial.

“Please. I want you.” He purred, seeing you with puppy eyes, the ones he knew you couldn’t resist.

“Hahah, you funny.”

He let out a frustrated whine, almost begging on his knees for you to get the hint.

“I’m not kidding. Pretty please. I need you.”

“Do you mean…?” You raised your head a few centimeters to look at his crotch in order to confirm your suspicions. Your cheeks had a cute blush as soon as you noticed Tate’s erection restrained by his jeans. It looked painful, and it actually was.

“Yes. I want to. Please, I truly need it. Please, please, please?” His voice was shaky and low, a needy desperate whisper. “Can I?”

This wasn’t what you expected for today. You saw Tate as a best friend, but you couldn’t deny he was handsome… And that he already provoked butterflies in your stomach before.

Hesitantly, you gave a shy nod with your head, giving him consent to continue. “But Tate… I’ve never done this before, I dunno what to do, I—” You trailed off, being cut off mid-sentence when Tate placed his lips over yours. The kiss was slow and tender, not rough at all. Your bottom lip was between his, as he nibbled it with extreme care to not hurt you.

After some seconds, he pulled apart and led his hand towards the side of your face, brushing some hairs away. “Don’t ya worry, princess. Leave it all to me, hm? I’ll be gentle. Unless you don’t want me to.” With that being said, he leaned into your neck, pressing his mouth on your sensitive flesh. He left sweet kisses, making you hum as you melted under him.

His lips continued to tease your skin, leaving some little bites between every kiss, trailing down to your collarbone. Tate stopped there and helped you get rid of your blouse, tossing it aside and continued his journey, this time kissing your sternum while his right hand cupped one of your breasts, kneading it gently over the fabric of your bra. He pulled down the straps and took off the piece of lingerie, setting your tits free.

The cold air hit you and your nipples perked up, looking ravishing and making him desire you even more.

He introduced one of the hardened buds into his warm mouth, sucking it greedily and making lewd wet sounds as he did so. His left rubbed the other nipple in circles, taking it with his thumb and index, pulling it and pinching it.

“Hmph… Huh…” You let out soft whimpers, slightly arching your back meanwhile he abused your breasts.

Tate stopped after some minutes, letting go of your nipple and looking at you, grabbing your chin and tilting your head to the side. He approached your ear and whispered, “You like this?”

“Yes…” You begged. Your voice was already ragged and shaky.

Instinctively, you pressed your thighs together, rubbing them as a pathetic try to feel some relief. Tate realized it and spread your legs with one of his hands. He took his digits right to your clothed pussy, eagerly rubbing the spot where your clit was.

“Someone’s already wet? Cute.” He giggled and took off his striped sweater, throwing it away. He positioned himself between your limbs and pulled down your pants, mesmerized as he saw your damp panties. Tate continued rubbing your bundle of nerves over the fabric of your underwear, still fascinated at how humid you were.

This was the moment he had been waiting for the past weeks. He wasn’t going to need to jerk off to your photos anymore, because now he would be able to jerk off to your tits in person.

Tate removed the last barrier that was stopping him from touching your womanhood directly. He pulled them down to your ankles and you helped him to get rid of it by shaking your feet.

He got closer to your cunt and placed your legs over his shoulder, spreading your folds with two of his large digits, blowing some air at the sensitive meat. Finally, he started sucking on your swollen clitoris, enjoying the feeling of your dampness against his face.

“Mmh…” He moaned, still toying with the nub. You grabbed him by the hair, not thinking about what you were doing. You just let yourself go and pulled him closer to your pussy, wanting to feel more. Your body twitched, unconsciously bucking your hips against his mouth that was currently making slurping sounds.

His attention changed and was now on your slit, teasing just the entrance with his hot tongue, while his nose rubbed against your clit. He lapped your pretty cunt, savoring your juices as if they were a delicacy.

Looking at your adorable face contorting in pleasure, he introduced his ring finger into your wet, tight hole. It was a slow and kind movement because the last thing he wanted was to hurt you. He slipped it deeper, pumping it in and out with care, increasing speed after a few seconds once he saw you comfortable. “Tell me if it hurts…”

“Mhm… It feels nice. Huh…” Your melodic whimpers and moans were just too much for him. He could listen to you for the rest of his days and never get tired of you.

Without further ado, he introduced his middle finger, now finger-fucking you with two. Tate’s thumb was also working wonders on your lil’ bundle of nerves in circular motion.

She was clenching around Tate’s large fingers, that he curled inside of her, hitting the right spot to make you squirm and feel a new and foreign sensation in your lower belly.

“Fuck it, I can’t wait anymore.”

He undid his belt, unzipped his pants and pulled down his boxers, quickly getting rid of them and letting them fall to the wooden floor.

You just stared in awe; it was the first time you saw one in real life.

Tate grabbed his hardened cock and stroked it a few times on top of you, finding amusing your silly reaction. The reddish tip was glistening with pre-cum, which he used as lube. He spat at your pussy and rubbed his slick saliva with two digits, before finally thrusting his dick.

He did it slowly, beginning with the head. Eventually, he pushed his entire length, hitting your cervix and stretching you out for the first time.

“Fuck, you’re so tight!” Even if he was taking the lead, he was a whiny mess, vocal and loud.

He continued pounding into you, his gaze never leaving your face. Tate loved how you rolled your eyes to the back of your head and how your little mouth was letting out such nasty sounds.

The room was filled with slapping and wet sounds, created by his skin slapping against yours, his balls always hitting you with every stab. Again, he placed your legs on his wide shoulders to have a better angle and pump into you deeper than before.

His big veiny hands were roaming all over your body, specifically your breasts. Within minutes, he developed an addiction to them. Probably because of his mommy issues? He grabbed them roughly, tweaking both of your nipples as he fucked you mercilessly.

Tate lolled his head as he felt your hole gripping him tight. Very tight.

He increased the pace and moaned your name, begging you to squeeze him tighter.

“Oh, please, please, please!” The blonde kept whining. He left one of his hands taking care of your nipples, while the other went back to torture your clit. He stroked it in circles, and then up and down, applying the enough amount of pressure to make you beg for more.

“Tate, I feel like I’m—”

“It’s okay, let it go, mhm?”

You couldn’t hold yourself any longer and squirted all over him, coating his lower body with your warm fluids.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh, gonna cum!” Tate pulled out from your cunt and pumped his cock with his hand finishing with a loud moan. His hot sticky white cum coated your breasts and abdomen, creating an incredible sight that he always imagined.

All spent, Tate threw himself next to you on the bed, pulling a blanket to cover both of you as he filled your pretty face in candy pecks.

“Did it hurt? First time usually does.” He looked at you, concerned for your wellbeing. “I was too rough?”

You laughed and shook your head no, caressing his messy locks with your fingers, tenderly scratching his scalp. “Don’t worry, I’m fine, really.”

Tate smiled at you and kissed you on the lips, “You’re so pretty, Y/N.”

You hugged him from behind, him being the little spoon this time. Your mind was going wild; you were still processing what happened and was about to drift to sleep when he whispered.

“Y/N…?”

“Mh, what is it, Tate?”

“I love you… Please be mine?”

[i9messi]

Don't break up with me — Oscar Piastri

Because of a misunderstanding, Oscar thinks you want to break up with him. Signals made him suspect he was right, but in fact, you just want to surprise him with a new puppy.

word count — 1,3k

note: i promise you this is pure fluff and romantic stuff. oscar here loves reader soo much, so I hope you enjoy it!

MASTERLIST

Oscar started to think about the last half of the year. Everything in your relationship had been so wonderful in those last few months, almost too perfect to be real.

You went to support him to his races every weekend, had romantic dates in your favourite places, went to museums and book stores and enjoyed ordinary things such as going together to the market. You had a beautiful relationship, where you supported each other and talked about your concerns as well as your future. Having known each other since you were teens, you and Oscar had talked many times about what you wanted to do in the future: to get marry and start a family.

Your families were very close, his mother loved you and you loved her, even spent time with her when he was not around. Your side of the family adopted him as their son, showing love to him.

There was no way you would break up with him. It made no sense.

However, the signs were there. That morning before heading to the circuit he had called you and you interrupted him, saying you were busy. That would have made sense and it was fine, except then he talked later to his mom and she told him you had been texting her all morning. Why didn’t you want to talk to him?

It was bad. That couldn’t be happening.

“Oscaaaaaaaaaaarr.” Someone shouted and that made him come back to reality.

Lando was in front of him, while he was sitting on the couch. Oscar used to be the most calm in your relationship. He took things easy, used to think before taking action, but now thinking so much was turning him into a person full of insecurity.

“What's wrong?” Lando asked, realizing that his teammate was acting differently than usual.

“Nothing.”

“Is this about your girlfriend?”

Oscar didn't try to hide the truth, not with him. “I think she’s going to break up with me.”

Lando was silent for a moment, until he burst out laughing.

“Don’t laugh, I feel bad. I’m devastated.”

“She’s not gonna break up with you, mate.”

You didn’t live together yet, you hadn’t taken that step in your relationship yet, but you practically lived next to each other. Your apartments in Monaco were only a few meters away. Yesterday he had invited you on a date and you told him that you couldn’t go. Lately it was as if you didn't want to spend your time together, as if his mere presence was annoying to you.

“How are you so sure?”

“Because you're the perfect couple. You love each other, you show the world how adorable you are, and then make everyone else feel miserable.”

“I don’t think that’s true anymore, Lando.”

“Go talk to her, then. Crying and feeling bad about it won’t solve a thing. Go and win back your lady.”

Oscar listened to his teammate, knew he couldn’t waste time or the opportunity to talk with you. He found you just a few minutes later and you hugged him, while he left a kiss on your forehead.

“Baby, I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Oscar. Congratulations for the race, I'm very proud of you.”

That had to mean something, didn’t it? If you hadn’t missed him and if you didn’t want him more in your life, you wouldn’t have answered that. Oscar was trying to convince himself that he still had a chance with you.

“Let’s go to my house.” he suggested, as you raised your head and looked at him with a face that showed no feelings.

“We better go to mine. We need to talk.”

Damn. You were going to break up with him. You never spoke like that, you had never said those words before.

On the way to your apartment in Monaco, he drove quietly. Oscar noticed you were nervous. You ran your hand through your hair and barely spoke. You were acting strange. He was increasingly convinced that once you arrived at your home, you would tell him that you wanted to break up with him.

The road was eternal and the worst of the worst. You arrived and stayed in the living room.

“Would you like some water?”

“Yes, please.”

You went to the kitchen to get a glass of water and came back a few seconds later. He drank the water in a single instant, too thirsty and nervous.

“Is something wrong, Oscar?”

“Do you want to break up with me?”

You stayed silent, until Oscar spoke again. His eyes were shining, his hair was messy from all the times he had passed his hands over it.

“Don’t break up with me, please. I don’t know what I would do without you in my life, you're my everything. I love you, that’s all I know. If I did something wrong just tell me, I'll try my best to not make the same mistake again."

“Oscar, baby…”

He hesitated, but he walked a step closer to you. Oscar was trying to not lose his mind.

“We can’t break up."

His supplicant gaze begged you not to leave him, not when he needed you so much.

“I love you and my life would be shattered without you.”

And something happened. You smiled.

“Oscar, I’m not breaking up with you. I don’t know what made you think I would.”

Calm made Oscar relax, but he remained confused. He was very sure of all the signs he had seen, he wasn't crazy and he was not imagining things. You had been acting strangely in those last days.

“Then why have you been acting so weird?”

“Wait for me, I’ll be right back!”

You left and came back a while later with something in your arms. A little puppy.

“It’s for you, honey.”

Oscar couldn’t help but come closer to you to see the puppy. The animal looked at him with a little mistrust, but once his hand came to caress the dog, the puppy began to move his tail with happiness, while you saw him with a smile on your face.

“A dog? For me?”

“It was a surprise. I talked with your mum about it and she even helped me. When you'll be busy with work stuff, I will be taking care of him.”

Your boyfriend grabbed the animal in his arms, the puppy ran his tongue over his face and Oscar squinted his eyes, while he couldn't stop feeling his heart beating frantically in his chest.

“l didn't expect this, thank you.”

“I would never break up with you, Oscar. You make me happy. That’s why I thought of adopting a puppy for you.”

“Then why were you acting so weird?”

“Because I wanted it to be a surprise. Yesterday I went to get him and that’s why I canceled our plans. Today the puppy peed in the clothes I was going to wear, just when you called. Also, he started barking and didn’t want you to find out. It was my little secret.”

Oscar had never been so happy, he left a kiss on your lips. Your mouths joined and he smiled so happily.

“I love you, you made me the happiest man in the world.”

“We have our little family now, Oscar. We are parents of a dog.”

Even as you planned to start a family when you were old enough, sharing the life of a pet was everything to him. Sharing the care and affection of a puppy made his tender and loving part appear.

“I love you and I love this animal. I will take care of you and him for my whole life.”

You weren't breaking up with him, that was the best part of all.

[thewritingrowlet]

The Tireless Wife, ft. Red Velvet Irene

tags: creampie, deepthroat—you know what, just read the whole thing, hm?

length: 8k+

author's note: I speedran this fic so please forgive me if it's too messy; I just wanted to make use of this free time.

p.s. this fic takes place before and after The Determined Wife.

-

Irene walks in the bedroom as you’re gathering your consciousness after a very good, post-sex sleep. “Ah, good morning, my love.” She high steps towards the bed to join you, taking her rightful place in your arms. “Love, on a scale of 1 to 10, how awake are you?” “Seven, probably.” You rub your eyes to see if maybe you can improve that score. “Okay, maybe eight and a half,” you revise.

Irene thinks that it’s not good enough; she wants you to be 100% in the right mind this morning, which is odd. She sits on your lap and starts kissing you passionately, seemingly in high spirits; she’s likely very satisfied with the fact that you’ve granted her wish to be bred.

“Tell me again.” “Nine and a half,” you tease. Your wife rolls her eyes. “Ugh, please don’t play hard to get.” You chuckle. “Aww, come on, love; I just want more kisses.” She puts on the beautiful smile that’s unique to her and only her. “Ah, fine, you win.”

She comes in for one more deep kiss, going as far as invading the space of your mouth with her tongue—it’s unfortunate that she breaks it soon after, though. “If that didn’t make it 10, I’m going to suck you off,” she says. “Sounds tempting,” you tease, “well, maybe later—let’s get to your point first.”

With a smile, Irene fishes something out of her shorts pocket and hands it to you with a closed palm. It is only when she lets go that you can see what it is: a pregnancy test device with two lines on it. “I’m a mother, love,” Irene starts breaking into tears, “I’m a mother, and there’s no question that you’re the father.”

Tears, endless of them, start flowing freely out of your eyes and onto your cheeks. “Y-you’re pregnant, my love?” Your grip on the little test kit weakens as your hand starts trembling—oh, look: a tear lands on the device, right where the little screen is. “I am,” Irene joins you in crying, “thank you for granting my wish.”

You put the small device to the side because you want to use your hands to hug your wife. “No, no, no,” you say, “thank you for giving me such a huge blessing.” Irene starts crying more freely, and you can’t help but do the same. “We’re going to become parents, love—isn’t that crazy?” “It is,” you agree with her, “thank you for making it possible for us, love.”

Irene pulls away from the hug, placing her hands on your shoulders instead. “You need to get ready for work, don’t you, love—let me start your shower.” You shake your head. “Screw work,” you say, “I want to spend this wonderful day with you and only you.” Your words draw a wide smile on her face. “Sounds great, love.”

She turns around before leaning against your chest, placing your hand right on her stomach that’s now occupied by the little one—your little one (the fetus hasn’t formed yet, yes, but the point still stands). Irene giggles as you rub her belly gently. “You’ll need to come up with some names, love.” “You first,” you say, “do you have ideas?” She taps her chin as she thinks of a candidate. “Jihoon-ie if it’s a boy, and Hyewon-ie if it’s a girl.”

You’re a little startled; Jihoon was the name of your little brother who passed away just before he turned 9 years old (you were 13 at the time) due to cardiac arrest. Your parents, specifically your mom, took his passing heavily, falling into what you learned years later as depression, which explained why they weren’t at home a lot—they were busy seeking help from professionals, both at home and abroad.

Irene knows about this story, obviously; you’ve taken her to his resting place a few times. “His memories can live on with our child, love,” she explains the reason behind the idea. “I’m glad that you have that idea, but personally, I think I’d let him rest,” you say, and Irene dares not argue.

“What about your ideas, love?” You take a few deep breaths as you try to come up with some names. “I don’t have any boy names in my head, but Yeseo if it’s a girl,” you say. Irene likes your idea; she thinks that it’s such a pretty and cute name for a girl. “Well, we’ll need to wait until they can tell if we’re having a son or a daughter.”

-

Mr. Hwang, the cook, has made some fettuccine for breakfast, since Irene said that she’s been craving pasta—a pregnant woman shall have what she wants. So, here you are: sitting at the table in the dining room with Irene, ready to fill your stomach with this tasty-looking dish.

Seeing the tall glass of water reminds you of something important that you want to address with Irene. “My love,” you place a hand over hers, “now that we’re going to become parents, let’s stop drinking alcohol, hm?” She nods enthusiastically. “I was about to suggest that idea to you, hon.” You smile. “I’m glad that we’re on the same page.” “About that, though,” she backtracks, “what about our collection? We have some nice wine and champagne.”

You ring the kitchen bell, and Mr. Hwang appears after a few seconds. “Yes, sir?” “Do you drink, Mr. Hwang?” “I do, sir, occasionally,” he admits. “Nice,” you put on a thumbs-up, “would you like to keep our liquor collection? We want to stop drinking now that we’re expecting.” His eyes widen in surprise. “I would be honored, sir, but as far as I know, they’re expensive.” You smile kindly while placing a hand on the side of his arm. “The only thing I care about, Mr. Hwang, is my wife and my child’s health—I don’t care about those bottles.” “If you say so—oh, and congratulations on the pregnancy, sir.”

After convincing Mr. Hwang to keep your collection of liquor for himself, you return to your wife. “Mr. Hwang will take care of those bottles, love; we won’t have to throw them out,” you inform her. “Erm, actually,” says Irene, “can we give the Masseto to my parents, love?” You agree with her request, thus officially marking the start of the transition to a clear-headed life without alcohol.

-

You invite Irene to join you on the sofa because you think that you have some things to discuss with her. “What do you want to talk about, love?” “Which hospital do you want, and how do you want to deliver the baby?” After thinking about it for a while, Irene says she wants to try delivering without surgery but is open to it as the last option. As for the hospital, she chooses the Sacred Heart Hospital, which is a very good hospital that’s also not too far from your house.

“Next up, our stuff,” you say, making Irene confused. “What do you mean?” “Well, we’re going to need a new car; I don’t think transporting the 3 of us in that 911 or your Genesis is a good idea.” “Do you want to sell the 911?” No, you don’t want to; Irene bought that silver speedster as a birthday present for you. “I was thinking that we should just buy a new one—something that can accommodate us and our child comfortably.” She pulls out her phone to search for options, but you stop her. “That doesn’t have to happen today, love,” you say, “we can think about that later on; I was just trying to get it out there, you know.”

Irene moves to sit on your lap. “I have some things to ask from you, love,” she starts on a new subject, “tell me what you think about them, okay?” You nod to get her to continue. “First, whenever possible, please come home early and don’t spend too much time working.” You say yes without hesitation, which satisfies her. Work will always be there, but your child’s growth and other important moments only happen once—wouldn’t want to miss your child’s first word or first step, would you?

“Second,” she puts up two fingers in front of your eyes, “please have mercy on me when we have sex.” You ask her to elaborate further. “I know that we can get rough sometimes, so let’s turn it down a bit to make sure the child isn’t in danger or anything.” “What about the frequency?” You take your turn to ask. “Just the usual, please; I’ll tell you when I want it, and you can tell me when you want it.” Again, without hesitation, you agree to her terms, which apparently serves as a segue for her next point.

“Can I have you, love?” You grin as you feel your cock getting hard. “You certainly can, love—can I have you as well?” Irene giggles cutely. “That goes hand-in-hand, doesn’t it?” “Just wanted to make sure, baby.”

Because of the time and day, there are other people in the house (i.e. the cook and the cleaning staff), so the only place you can have sex in is the bedroom. On your way to the bedroom with Irene in your arms, she taps your chin to get your attention. “Love, Miss Jo wants to take a leave to visit her parents,” she says. “We’ll go out later and get her some stuff to take home.”

You set Irene gently onto the bed in compliance with her request to take things easier during sex. “Ah, my gentle giant,” she comments. She hasn’t used that nickname in quite some time, now that you think about it. That name was given to you by your fellow student council members (including Irene) back in university when you refused to beat up a toilet peeper and would rather have him formally punished by the university and charged by the victims. “I thought you’ve forgotten that name.” She lets out a giggle. “How can I forget, love?”

You come in for a kiss to indicate that you’ve had enough chatter, and Irene welcomes you warmly as usual. “Please, love,” she gulps, “please start already.” You reach for her pajama top and undo the first button. “Patience, baby; I still need to undress you.” She cooperates by undoing her top starting from the bottom button and meeting you halfway. “There, I helped,” she says, making you laugh a little. She then proceeds to pull down her shorts just as you’re about to ask her.

Your gaze lands on her firm belly where your child is being safely kept. “I hope you won’t hate me when my stomach gets bigger.” You shake your head rapidly. “There’s no way I’d hate you for that—you’re my wife and that’s our child in your belly,” you say, and you see that Irene’s eyes are threatening to burst.

You join her in bed after undressing yourself and after she has taken off her underwear. You then pull her into a hug and peck her head everywhere, making her let out that lovely laugh that’s special to her. Once you stop, she places her hands on each side of your face. “I swear on everything I have that I’m so glad that I ended up with you and not with that Kim Junghwan guy.” “He never deserved you,” you say, demeaning. “That is true,” she agrees with you, “you and only you, love.”

You take the bottom position today, letting Irene have her way with you. “I have a feeling that I’d not be able to ride you as well with a big belly,” she comments as she moves to sit on your lap. You’re starting to get ticked off, but at the same time, she’s coming from a good place, so for now, you simply let out a sigh. “Love, please don’t worry about the sex; we’ll adapt as the pregnancy continues. Just focus on your health and stress levels, please.” Irene places her hands on her chest. “That’s touching, love—thank you.”

With your cock in hand, she aims it at her entrance. “Here I go,” she notifies you, as if you couldn’t see what she’s doing. Irene slowly goes down on your shaft, hugging it with her tight and warm walls. You breathe deeply as she starts moving up and down. “Fuck, that’s good,” you praise her to rile her up. “Yeah, daddy?” There it is: the kink that you love the most—Irene has always been quick to use it.

Irene bends backwards slightly and fixes her grip on your knees. After making sure that she’s steady, she starts moving faster on your cock, and you desperately want to hold those bouncing plump tits of hers. “Daddy, daddy,” she chants, “oh, you’re so deep in me, daddy.” “Keep it up, baby—fuck, you’re doing so well.”

Irene might not be the best at working out, but damn is she good at managing her stamina during sex; it feels like she has this extra battery pack that’s specifically used for sex, and as long as praises and words of affirmation keep flowing out of your lips, that battery will never die.

“Oh, no, daddy,” she slows down a little, “I think I’m about to cum.” “I don’t see the problem with that.” You slap her butt a few times to get her to speed up again. “Go on, baby; be good and cum for me.” Irene nods and picks up the pace again, trying to adhere to your command to “be good.”

Irene’s thighs shake violently when her first orgasm hits while her walls are gripping your shaft very tightly, making it very hard to you to not just bust right here. You pull her towards you and hug her. “Good job, love—very good job.” “You—oh, you always bring the best out of me, daddy,” she replies despite the heavy pants. “I can say the same about you, love,” you whisper back.

Without retreating from her pussy, you roll over until you’re the one on top. “You’re so sweaty, love,” you comment while wiping her forehead, “that must’ve been exhausting for you.” Irene shakes her head feebly. “A-anything to make you happy, daddy.” The way she always puts your pleasure as the top priority is touching. “Alright, let’s take a breather first, okay?”

“Take a breather,” you say, but you’re still slowly moving back and forth in her pussy, making her let out soft moans despite the exhaustion. “Ha-have mercy—please, daddy,” she utters faintly, almost too quiet to reach your ears. “Don’t worry, baby; I’m being gentle.”

As you keep fucking her like this, you can feel your orgasm inching closer, so you pause for now. “Okay, I’m going to stop here—I don’t want to cum without your full attention.” “B-but you have my attention, daddy.” You chuckle. “Your eyes are barely open, love.” When you see her opening her mouth to make an argument, you quickly lean in for a kiss to interrupt her. “Relax, love, we have all day.”

You’ve spent the last few minutes kissing (while still being inside her), and Irene is the first to break it. “When are you going to give me your cum, daddy?” You assess that she has recovered enough for you to finish this, so to answer her, “Right now.” You straighten your back and prepare to start. “Where do you want it, love?” Irene scoffs. “Where else?” “But what about your career?” The callback to the career vs. child argument makes her laugh. “I’m literally pregnant right now, in case you forgot—fill me however much you want, daddy.”

You place her legs together on one side of your shoulder and start fucking her. Irene promptly places her hands on her tits, doing whatever she can to add more stimulation on top of that you’re giving her. “Daddy, you’re close, aren’t you? I can feel it, you know.” You let out a hum to answer her. “Give it to me whenever, daddy.”

You fasten your grip on her legs as you turn up the pace to the maximum of your ability. Your wife has now been reduced to moans and screams; she no longer has the headspace to play with her tits and instead just puts her hands on each side of her head.

“Love, I—” Before you can finish your sentence, semen escapes your shaft and enters her body, making her let out a long, sensual moan because of the warmth. “Oh, daddy,” she gasps, “oh, God, you’ve filled me again.” You let go of her legs and fall limply onto her body. “I love you, baby,” you say right into her ear. “I love you more, daddy.”

-

As you roll closer towards your house, you see your wife patiently waiting for you in the front garden among the flowers. She turns her head and puts on a smile for you, and you swear to God that exhaustion and stress from work has been taken away, and along with it, your breath.

You quickly jump out of your car, stumbling on your own leg in the process. “Welcome home, love,” she greets you with open arms. You take your rightful spot in her arms, and you can feel her belly bump against yours. “Tired, love?” “I was but not anymore,” you say. “It’s like magic, isn’t it—the moment you see your significant other, everything else just disappears.” “Absolutely,” you agree with her.

Irene invites you to sit on the garden bench with her, but you opt to take a knee in front of her instead. You rub her belly gently to greet your little one, and Irene looks at you with a smile of approval. “I want to say that I’m tired, but it doesn’t feel right.” You furrow your eyebrows. “Why not?” “I mean, it’s you who went to work, not me.” “That’s absurd; you might be at home, but I imagine being pregnant is tiring.” You can tell that she wants to make another argument, but the way you’re looking at her right in the eyes makes her bury that intention.

“Have you eaten, by the way?” Irene nods. “I asked Mr. Hwang to make me lentil soup for lunch.” Lentil soup sounds nice and healthy, which is important for a pregnant woman. “It was so delicious, by the way.” You laugh. “He’d be in deep trouble if it wasn’t.”

You think that this is enough catching up for now and that it’s time to get into the house, so you carry her inside safely. Irene says she wants to watch TV because she’s “tired of being in the bedroom,” so you put her down on the sofa and hand her the remote. You then tell her that you’ll join her after taking a quick shower.

When you get back to the living room to join her, you see that Irene is watching this little documentary on Giethoorn, this beautiful hamlet in the Netherlands where rivers run everywhere. She keeps letting out wows as shots of the area are shown on screen, deeply immersed in the show. “Do you think we can move there one day, love?” “Oh, man, I hope so; that looks like a really nice place to live in.” Irene turns your head towards you. “Maybe if we can’t live in the Netherlands, we can live in some quieter place instead—Damyang or Jinhae, perhaps?” You smile at her. “We’ll see what we can do, alright?” Not satisfied with just words, she makes you make a pinky promise that you’ll seriously consider it.

-

You didn’t know that you fell asleep, only waking up because you feel soft pokes on your thigh.

“Hngh?”

“Love, you’re tired, aren’t you?”

“A little.”

“Please, that doesn’t look like a little.”

“A little lot, perhaps,” you change your answer.

“I was going to invite you to sleep, but you haven’t eaten yet.”

“That’s fine, love.”

“No, it’s not fine—do you want to have food delivered here?”

“Eh, sure,” you accept her offer, “order something light for me, please.”

Irene doesn’t say anything, presumably busy scrolling through the food delivery app to find something for you. “Light, light, light—what’s something that’s light?” “A lamp—haha, get it?” Irene slaps your thigh for your joke. “Daddy is really funny, isn’t he, Hyewon-ah?” Hearing your wife say that name startles you a tad. “Hyewon-ah? Really?” “I don’t know,” Irene shrugs, “I just like that name.” “Oh, I thought we’ve found out if we’re having a daughter.”

Irene focuses on ordering food again, and something finally catches her fancy. “What about some toast, love?” “What toast?” She shows you the available options, from peanut butter toast to kimchi and cheese toast. “Get me one peanut butter toast, please.” She says that it’s a better deal to order at least 3 toasts, so she adds some other toast to the order. “It’ll be here in around 45 minutes, love.” You thank her for the help and then invite her to rest her head on your lap.

“Love me, please,” she says in this aegyo-esque voice. You bend down and peck her on the forehead. “Anything specific, love?” Irene opens and closes her mouth a few times, seemingly trying to judge if she should speak her mind. “You’re so tired, though,” she utters, and you can already tell what she’s getting at. “You want me between your legs, don’t you?” Your wife covers her red face. “W-well, if you put it like that…” “We’ll wait until I have some food in my stomach and see how we can proceed—do we have a deal?” “Yes, deal!” The way her voice cracks makes you laugh. “My, my, aren’t you a cutie?”

-

The toasts are here: you’ve grabbed the bag from the delivery man and put it on the living room table.

You pick up the box with the text “PB” written on it. Irene says that she has bought some toast from this place before and hopes that you’ll like it like she does. You nod in satisfaction after taking the first bite. “I think I know what brand of peanut butter this is,” you comment. She scratches her head in cluelessness. “I don’t know, love; they all taste the same to me.”

You notice that Irene has two hands on top of each other on her stomach and keeps licking her lips while watching you eat. “Want to have a bite, lovely?” She nods timidly. “It looks so good,” she admits, “b-but I don’t know if I should eat.” You tilt your head in confusion. “Why not?” “Erm, I think that’s ultra-processed food—that’s one. Two, I don’t want to gain too much weight.” Weight can be quite a sensitive subject, especially considering that your wife has always been paying close attention to it.

You keep chewing as you think of a reasonable answer—well, here it goes: “I’m sure that you have good intentions, but I’m almost certain that one toast won’t hurt you or Hyewon-ie.” You can tell that she’s starting to get swayed, as proven by how she has a box with “CHOCO” written on it in her hands. “Forgive me, Hyewon-ah, but I really want this toast.”

You panic a little when Irene sheds a tear after taking a bite. “Oh my, are you okay, love?” She nods again. “T-this is so good, but I feel so guilty for eating this—oh, I’m so sorry, Hyewon-ah.” You put down your and her toast on the table so that you can hold her hands. “Love, love,” you try to get her to focus on you, “it’s okay, no one is yelling at you for eating one toast—not me, not Doctor Shin, and certainly not Hyewon-ie.” “A-are you sure?” “Yes,” you say in a resolute tone. “We’ll be just fine, trust me.”

Feeling decently comforted and assured by your words, Irene asks if she can have her toast again, so you give it back to her. You make sure you don’t forget to wipe that random tear off her cheek while you’re at it. “Thank you,” she utters softly. “You’re welcome, my love,” you say equally softly.

-

After finishing those tasty and quite filling toast, Irene asks if she can have you between her legs, so you stand up from your seat and stretch your body to warm up. “I apologize in advance if I finish too fast; I’m kind of tired.” Your wife shakes her head. “As long as your load is mine, I don’t really see the problem with finishing fast—I’ll probably finish before you, anyway.”

There’s only you and your wife in this house right now, but that doesn’t change the fact that sex should only happen in the bedroom for the next 6 to 7 months; it’s more comfortable for her and safer for your child.

After getting undressed, Irene asks to be helped sit on the stool that she prepared earlier today. “It seems like you have an idea,” you comment. “Yes,” she says, “I want you back there.” “What happened to turning it down?” “This isn’t our first time, is it—just remember to be gentle.”

You open the bedside drawer to find the lube and see that it’s not there. “We don’t have lube?” Irene looks away to hide her red cheeks. “Erm, I might or might not have used it earlier.” You furrow your eyebrows. “You used it? For what?” She shyly admits that she fucked herself in the rear with a dildo this afternoon. “I-I wanted to prepare for you, because I know you like it when I think ahead.”

It’s not strange or new to you that your wife is lustful; you’ve known that for years at this point. That said, you’d think that being pregnant would turn that lustfulness down, but it doesn’t seem like it so far—in fact, it feels like she’s more lustful than ever.

You stand in front of her and hold her chin. “Oh, love, what would you do without me—who could satisfy you if not me?” “I don’t know, daddy; it’s always been you since day one.” You reward her with a kiss for answering correctly. “May I, then?” Irene giggles slightly. “Certainly.”

You walk around and look for your target. “I’m pulling this plug out, alright?” After getting a nod of approval from your wife, you gently tug on the plug. “Ngh!” Irene clenches her fists when she feels her rear being stretched by the wide part of the plug. “Relax, love—it’s almost out.” With a pop, the plug is finally out of her tight ass, and you quickly put your mouth on it for the first time ever in this marriage, making your wife gasp in shock. “Daddy, no, I’m dirty there.”

You ignore her and keep running your tongue on her puckered hole; quite fun, you must admit. Occasionally, you try parting her cheeks apart so that you can put the tip of your tongue in her rear.

Feeling weak, Irene starts tumbling forwards, but you catch her just in time to save her from going face first onto the floor. “God, you’re so crazy, daddy.” “Your new task, baby, is to keep it clean all the time—is that clear?” Irene nods in obedience. “Y-yes, sir; I will try my best.” You squeeze her butt cheek lightly. “Good girl,” you praise her.

You get on your feet and hug the panting woman from behind. “Are you alright?” “Y-yes—fuck, you’re fucking crazy.” You pinch a nipple, more surprising than painful. “That’s not how you speak to me, woman.” “S-sorry, sir, b-but you are indeed crazy.” You kiss her on the back of the head. “I hope you didn’t mind, by the way.” Your wife shakes her head. “Not—oh, not at all.”

“Sir, daddy,” Irene can’t choose between the two, “would you fuck my ass, please?” “Thought you’d never ask, baby.” You stroke your shaft to make sure that it’s properly hard and ready while your wife spreads her butt cheeks to give you access. You place the tip right on the entrance of her forbidden hole. “Are you ready, baby?” “Yes—oh, God, fuck, yes.”

You waste little time and go deep right away into her warmed-up hole. “Fuck, you’re always so tight right here.” “Hngh! Ngh!” Irene can only let out grunts as she’s getting overwhelmed by the stimulation you’re giving her. “No one can touch you like I do, hm?” She shakes her head weakly as a response, still unable to say anything back.

You hook her arms backwards as you get ready to fuck her to make sure she doesn’t fall off the stool. “I’m yours, daddy—fuck me however you want,” she says, as if it was ever a question. “Bet.”

With this steady posture, you start fucking her ass roughly, forcing Irene to scream with each thrust delivered. “My husband is fucking amazing—Hyewon-ah, daddy is fucking amazing,” Irene thinks as the sounds of your hips crashing against her butt enter her ears.

As time goes on, everything starts to get blurry for Irene, and it doesn’t help that from this position, she has no control over how fast you’re fucking her. “P-please stop,” she says weakly, hoping that it’ll still reach your ears amongst the clapping sounds. It doesn’t seem like you heard her, though; you’re still fucking her ass recklessly, which leaves her no other choice but to just yell out loud. “DADDY, STOP—PLEASE!” Hearing her scream makes you stop abruptly with more than half your shaft still lodged in her ass. “Daddy, please, let me breathe,” Irene begs.

Still panting, you gently retreat from her gaped ass. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you just realize how rough you’ve been. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry, love,” you repeat to show sincerity. You pull her into your arms and take a seat on the edge of the bed, and the sight of your wife crying (from getting fucked in the ass, nonetheless) twists your heart like nothing else. You keep repeating apologies while rubbing her stomach gently, hoping that doing so could also tell Hyewon that you’re regretful of your actions.

Irene feebly reaches for your face. “I-it’s okay; it was good until it became overwhelming, daddy.” You lie her down on her side and inspect the result of your recklessness—it seems like she didn’t get injured by your shaft. “I think you’re fine, baby.” “Great,” she replies, “so what are you waiting for?” You blink rapidly in confusion. “I thought you were in pain?” “I never said that,” she shrugs. Seeing that you’re silent, Irene piles on. “C’mon, look at yourself, daddy: you’re still hard and ready to fuck me—let me finish the job, please.” “Fine,” you give up, “I’m not getting in your ass again, though.”

Irene says that you have a deal and asks you to lie down so that she can take control, which is fine by you; you’ve had enough “fun” being dominant tonight. You keep an eye on your wife as she aims your shaft towards her entrance from the cowgirl position. You grit your teeth when Irene slowly sits down on your cock—you’re in her ass again. “Oh, fuck, welcome back, daddy.” “I thought we had a deal.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Irene deflects, “anyway, I hope you enjoy the ride, hihihi.”

Irene rests her subtly bulged belly on your body while her hips are busy bouncing up and down along your length. She keeps chanting “you’re in my ass” as if you can’t tell that you are indeed in her ass. You reach around and slap her butt. “Go faster.” Having planted her hands on your chest, Irene tries to bounce faster on your cock. “Oh, oh, yes—how’s this, daddy?” It’s you who can’t respond this time; just like earlier, the way her muscles are squeezing you prevents you from thinking straight and coming up with words to say.

You rest your head on the pillow while your wife is busy fucking herself on your cock (while moaning so freaking freely), and for some reason, your eyelids feel like they weighed 100 kilograms—what the hell are they so heavy for? “You must be close, daddy,” Irene makes a keen observation. “Uh-huh,” are all that escape your lips. Hearing that you’re close serves as fuel for Irene to keep up the tempo and make you bust with her ass; this tireless woman can be very crazy in bed, pregnant or not.

“Love, I’m about to—oh, fuck, I’m about to bust,” you warn her. “Yeah?” Her voice is barely heard thanks to the endless clapping noises. You grip the pillow your head is resting on as your cock starts twitching wildly in her rear. “Baby, please,” you let your desperation to cum be known to her.

Irene slams herself down onto your body, and you instantly erupt, surprising the both of you at the same time. She throws her head back as your warm semen floods her ass. “Oh, oh, yes, daddy.” It was her who did all the work, but it’s you who’s panting heavily.

“Love, thank you so much.” Irene removes you from her ass and lies down next to you. “Even when tired, you’re still so strong,” she praises while her hand runs along your length. “What’s your secret, daddy?” “You’re my secret; if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be like this.” You let out a low moan when your wife manages to squeeze the last bit of semen out of you. “You’re so cute, you know that?” You chuckle. “No, I don’t.”

-

It feels odd to not have Irene welcome you at the driveway, especially since she’s been doing that consistently for the past few weeks, too. Her Genesis is parked neatly in the usual spot, so she must be at home, but where is she?

“I’m home.” You close the door behind you and scan your surroundings—still no sign of your wife, making you wonder if perhaps she’s asleep. You make your way towards the bedroom, and your jaw drops immediately when you see her kneeling on the floor while being almost entirely naked. Irene buckles a little, presumably because she feels a fetus kick. “Even Hyewon-ie doesn’t approve,” you comment.

You rub the side of her face gently. “What on God’s green earth are you trying to do, love?” The ball gag in her mouth prevents her from answering, but she has this little spanker in her hands that she’s trying to hand over to you. “Love, please, what are you doing?” Irene just looks at your feet while her hands are on her thighs. “This isn’t how a woman in her second trimester is supposed to behave, is it?” You close your eyes and take a few deep breaths to get yourself together. “Fine, I’ll play your game.”

Your wife steals some glances as you undress in front of her, and when you’re finished, you take the time to take off her bra, exposing her tits that you swear have grown bigger recently. You then lift her onto her feet to remove her panties, and Irene instantly drops back down onto the floor after you’re done. “Oh, you’re that serious, aren’t you?”

You pick up the slim paddle from the floor and prepare to swing. “Wait, where do I hit her?” You look for places to hit her on, but the more you think about it, the more that you don’t want to do it. That said, you imagine that it’d disappoint her if you chicken out, so you decide to play along until she taps out.

You hit her on the right shoulder once. “Ngh!” Irene lets out a yelp of surprise when the paddle lands. “That’s one.” You move the paddle to your other hand and hit her on the left shoulder. “I’ll count until 29, okay?” Irene nods in response, and that’s when you look for other targets.

You ask her to show you her palms and hit them successively. “Any ideas?” Your wife taps her thighs, indicating that she wants to be hit there, so you hit those two spots, harder than you’d like to admit, making her grunt in pain. “Sorry.” That sounds less sincere than you’d like, but it’s okay, you’ll make it up to her later.

Before you continue, you join her on the floor and unlatch the gag. “This doesn’t look comfortable, so I’m taking it off,” you say. Irene relaxes her mouth now that she’s free. “Thank you, master.” You sigh. “Master? Really?” Irene nods enthusiastically. “Yes, master.”

You stand back up and swing at her tender breasts out of nowhere. “Fucking naughty, aren’t you?” As Irene opens her mouth to say something, you hit her breasts again. “You’re pregnant, and this is how you fucking act? Explain yourself.” You tell her to explain herself, but you don’t give her the chance to do so, interrupting her with a hit on the forearm. “M-master, please.” “Please what?” You subconsciously raise your tone. “Please punish me; I-I’ve been naughty.” You roll your eyes. “Fuck it, we’re going back to zero.”

You hit her on different places in rapid succession, and Irene screams after each one. “How many?” “S-six, master.” “Good,” you praise her emptily, “count to 18, slut.” You initially chose 29, which is the date she was born, but changed it to 18, which is the date you were born. As much as you’re putting on a cold charade for her, you don’t have the heart to hit her 29 fucking times.

You tell her to get on her hands and knees to expose other parts of her body. You smack her on the back a few times before moving on to her butt and hitting it a few more times. “How many?” Irene chokes up momentarily before she manages to get her answer out. “T-twelve, sir.”

To end the show, you give her some hard hits on the back of her thighs. “E-eighteen, master.” “On your knees,” you command, and Irene obeys right away. “Explain yourself, or else.” “I-I was just trying new stuff,” she says. “Is that it?” Irene just nods, and you can’t help but sigh, feeling somewhat frustrated by her simple answer.

“Love, be honest with me: why are you acting like this?” After taking a deep breath, Irene proceeds to explain the whole thing, from how she tore the left rear tire of her car against an elevated curb while trying to pull into a gas station this afternoon, to the fact that she touched herself thrice while thinking about you. “L-like I said, I’ve been very naughty.” You exhale deeply. “Those few things don’t require punishment—especially not of this sort.” Your wife shakes her head. “But I want to be punished,” she insists.

“Have you had enough, or what?” Irene slowly shifts her gaze to meet yours, and you know that she knows that you’re aroused, as shown by your erect cock. “Do whatever you please, master,” she says, hiding her excitement behind the façade of obedience.

Still kneeling in front of you, Irene eases you into her mouth. You place a hand on the back of her head and pull her towards you, forcing your cock deeper. She’s taken you deep plenty of times, so this is neither new nor difficult for her. “Hold it there and count to 10.” After finishing her count, Irene retreats until only your tip is in her mouth. “Very good—now do it 9 more times.”

Irene does as you command, doing each repetition passionately, much to your satisfaction. “That’s very good, love,” you make sure you don’t forget to praise her. You retreat from her wet mouth to let her breathe, and she promptly inhales sharply. “I-I hope I did well, sir.” You smile kindly. “Of course; you always do everything so well.”

You take a seat on the edge of the bed while you wait for Irene to get herself together. “Anything else, master?” A lit bulb appears over your head. “Is it just me, love, or have your breasts gotten bigger?” She takes a quick look at herself. “I-I think they have indeed grown, master.” “They look so soft, don’t you think?” She nods to your question. “Would you like to touch them, sir?” “I have a better idea,” you say, “put them around my cock.”

Irene crawls towards you and places your cock right between her extra plump tits. “Like this, sir?” You moan in a low voice as your shaft grinds against her tits. “You—oh, fuck, you’re so good at every-fucking-thing.” Your wife blushes. “I aim to please, master.” “Oh, trust me, I’m very pleased right now, love.”

Much to your pleasure, Irene presses her chin against her chest and catches your tip with her mouth every time it pokes through her tits. You pet her head gently. “Good fucking job, baby—fuck, I’m about to bust.” “Please, give me your cum, master.” Irene moves her tits faster, eager to have your first load of the day.

You throw your head back and close your eyes as semen spurts out of the tip of your cock, landing all over her face and chest. “Oh my, very thick,” she comments. “I love how you taste, master; your diet works well for me too, you know.” You chuckle. “Good to know, baby.”

You invite Irene to lie down in bed with you. “You haven’t cum yet.” “Yes, I have; I told you I touched myself a lot today.” You get your tie from the messy pile of clothes. “Hands above your head, please.” She puts her hands together above her head, and you tie them together. “Are we ready?” Irene looks at you nervously. “Please have mercy, master; I’ve had a lot of orgasm today.” “That wasn’t my doing, was it?”

Irene gasps in shock when she feels your hand on her little nub. “Sensitive much?” “Please, master.” “Please what, baby?” “I need to cum again, master—make me cum with your hands, please.” “Well, since you asked so nicely.” You use one hand to stimulate her nub and use the other to play with her tits, going fast and fervent right from the gate.

In the moment of high stimulation, Irene accidentally kicks you in the head—how did that even happen? “That’s not nice.” “I-I—fuck, I’m so sorry, master. I didn’t mean it.” “That’s strike one, Miss Bae,” you warn. To punish her behavior, you increase the intensity of stimulation on her pussy, making her jolt around more. It’s fine if she were to kick you again; you have some more ideas in your head to get her back.

Your wife keeps moaning loudly and freely as her fourth orgasm looms ahead. “Master, master,” Irene begs for your attention, “I won’t last too long, master.” “Oh, is that so?” You plunge two fingers into her pussy and finger-fuck her, and Irene can’t help but moan, possibly until her voice disappears.

Your hand starts getting tired, but as timing has it, she’s also very, very close to orgasm. With an ear-piercing scream, Irene explodes: her legs are shaking violently, and her juice is coming out torrentially. “Very, very good, my love—you’re such a big bomb, aren’t you?” You free her hands and move to barrage her sweaty head with pecks. “We’ll wait until you’re relaxed before doing anything else, alright?”

Amid all this, you notice that you’re getting rock hard again. You start stroking your cock with the sight of your naked wife in front of you. Irene, in her exhausted state, looks at you. “Don’t waste your cum,” she says vaguely. “What do you mean?” “Put it somewhere in me, master,” she clarifies. You stop for a moment. “You’re very exhausted, love. I don’t want to burden you with more sex.” Your wife shakes her head. “I can take it, don’t worry.”

You take a position in between her legs, aiming your cock at her pussy in the process. You announce that you’re going in, and Irene moans weakly at the first contact. She tells you that you need to do all the work this, citing her exhaustion. “Never thought I’d hear such words from you; you’ve been tireless recently,” you say, earning a little chuckle from her.

You kiss her while your shaft goes in and out of her, dropping whatever charade you’ve been using these past few hours. “I love you, baby—I love you so fucking much.” “I-I love you more, hon—you’re the best for me.” Her warm words make you smile. “I’ll stay by your side until death do us part, my love.” “You have a deal.” You hug her tightly when your second load of the day enters her body.

“We’ll rest a bit, if that’s okay with you.” “Sure,” Irene says, “I can’t even stand up right now.”

-

You feel rapid taps on your chest, making you wake up crassly in surprise. When your eyes are open enough to provide vision, you see that your wife is seated in bed with Yeseo in her arms. “Yes, love?” Irene doesn’t answer your question and instead, starts breaking down in tears. “C-can you take care of her a little? I-I want to rest.”

You slap yourself as hard as you can for leaving your wife to sleep and, in turn, forcing her to tend to your child alone. “My goodness, I’m so sorry, love.” You open your hands to receive your daughter who is wrapped snug with a little blanket, and Irene immediately falls flat onto the bed—she’s still crying, though. “Go to sleep if you can, love; I’ll keep her safe.” “I’m such a bad mom,” she insults herself unnecessarily, “I can’t even stay up for my daughter.” “No, you’re not a bad mom—trust me, you’re not.” To offer her some peace, you tell her that you’ll be in the living room with Yeseo until morning. “I’ll see you later, okay?” You give her a peck as a parting gift.

“Yeseo-yah,” you whisper softly, “while mommy catches her breath, we’ll hang out in the living room, okay?” Having been born just a few weeks ago, Yeseo can’t respond much aside from a small head movement, which you’ll gladly accept as an answer. “We’re going to get along very well, aren’t we, sweetie?”

You turn on the TV to watch something in an attempt make sure you don’t fall asleep, and that’s when you see the time: 02:09 a.m. “We’re staying up late, sweetie—I hope you won’t make this a habit when you’re grown up,” you comment.

You make sure that the TV is muted so that it doesn’t startle your daughter when this video starts. “Oh my, look at that place, Yeseo-yah.” A shot of beautiful countryside scenery in Jeju steals your attention, and it’s very hard to resist the temptation to move there with your family. “What do you say we move there, sweetie?” Yeseo lets out a small squeal, and you guess that she’s interested in living there. “Aha, great minds think alike, hey?”

You remember your wife asking if the family can move to somewhere quieter to raise Yeseo in, and now that she’s actually here, you’re really contemplating the opportunity. In your head, you try to think about what work would be like if you lived in a place like Jeju, which is even farther from the big capital. Your brain suggests stepping down from your post and earning from dividends, which sounds like a sound idea. Irene had stepped down from her position of director of risk management two months before Yeseo was born, so it’s not the craziest idea to follow suit.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you and mommy, Yeseo-yah.” You want to say that you’re willing to die for them, but Irene’s words enter your mind: why die for family, if you can be healthy and stay by their side instead? You laugh a little as you recall that exchange. “Mommy is an amazing person, sweetie. Sometimes I can’t believe I ended up with her.”

-

Irene wakes up around 6 hours later, feeling somewhat refreshed after a decent night’s sleep. The first thing she does is obviously to check up on her husband and daughter.

“Look at you: sleeping with Yeseo in your hands.” Irene unlocks her phone and takes a picture of you sleeping with your mouth wide open while Yeseo is chilling in your arms. She gets teary eyes looking at this scene in the living room.

She never had the idea of being childfree and has taken a more neutral stance about it, but at the same time, having Yeseo is quite the surprise turn of her life.

Irene quietly joins you on the sofa to not disturb your peace. “Love, love,” she whispers, trying to get you to wake up, “wake up, please; it’s time for work.” “Screw work,” she hears you say, “I’m stepping down.” She knows that you’re referring to your job. “Are you sure?” “Yes,” you reply again, “we’re moving to Jeju.”

Before getting too excited, Irene makes sure you’re awake. “Love, seriously, wake up.” The way you’re suddenly looking at her with eyes wide open makes her jump. “Yes?” “Were you serious about moving to Jeju?” You nod. “I’ve talked with Yeseo about it, and she agreed.” Irene bursts out laughing, shaking her head in amusement. “Sure, she did.” “Just ask her yourself if you don’t believe me.”

She plays along with your joke and asks Yeseo about her opinion on moving out of the big city, to which she replies by crying out loud, taking the two of you by surprise. “What, what, what,” you panic, “is she hungry? She’s probably hungry, right?” Irene unbuttons her pajama to expose a nipple Yeseo can latch on, so you hand your daughter over to her to be breastfed.

“Sorry, love, but these tits aren’t solely yours anymore,” Irene quips. You start laughing out loud, finding it difficult to stop. “What—what are you talking about? Why did you say it like that?” Your wife joins you in laughing. “I don’t know—it just felt right to say it.” You shake your head, highly amused by your wife’s odd statement. “It’s fine; I’m totally content with sharing them with Yeseo,” you clarify.

-

You take one last look at your house that is now empty. “We spent a fortune on this house, didn’t we, love?” You nod in agreement. “It’s crazy how much we bought this place for,” you reply. “I hope you won’t regret moving out,” Irene expresses her concern. You look at her right in the eyes while your hands are on either side of her waist. “We’re doing this for Yeseo—this is bigger than just the two of us, love.”

You walk with her outside towards the driveway, where Yeseo’s stroller is parked. “Isn’t she so cute?” “She is,” you say, “I swear I will do and give everything for you and her.” Irene puts on a big smile.

“We’ll give her a good life and a bright future, love.”

“We absolutely will.”

[petew21-blog]

Prison visit

Hi, my name is Logan. I come from a quite boring family that includes my dad, my mum and my little brother. Unfortunately our family is now somewhat broken, because my dad decided behind our back to steal some money from the company he was working for. It wasn't a small ammount for all I know, so he was locked up and we all had to got to the trial.

We all had to dress up to represent our family. I hated the moment when the judge sentenced my father for several years in prison. All I could think about was the fact that I was the one, who had to take care of our family now. Which meant that I had to leave the army.

Me and my brother skipped the first few visits, because mom said that dad had to get used to being in prison and he didn't want to be seen in a bad mood. But the first visit was quite nice. Maybe except for the attack. Some prisoner bumbed into momand they both fell on the ground. It must have been a mental patient, because he started crying and screaming, that his body was stolen. Creepy, right?

Mum must have been shocked. She even missed a few turns when we were coming home from prison. I left her to relax and cooked dinner for us. When I went up to get her, the door to her bedroom were wide open and I couldn't believe what I saw.

Mom stood in front of the mirror, naked and fingered herself. Screaming in pleasure.

She turned her head slightly and smiled. I immediately left, hoping she didn't notice me.

I got my brother and told him that mom was too tired to join us.

The following days were really strange. Mom was walking around the house only in her bra and panties. I didn't wanna look, because it's my mom but ut was unavoidable.

One night, I think I heard male and even another strange female voices coming from my parents bedroom.

I eventually had to start taking care of my brother, because she didn't seem concerned, that he didn't have any food to eat etc.

I woke up in the morning to a weird feeling on my body. I opened my eyes and froze. My mom sat on my bed, my chest and boxers were uncovered and she had her hand on my stomach.

I couldn't let out a word, what was happening?!

Mom:"I have such a handsome young son. You really take care of your body, don't you? My son a soldier. How PROUD I am."

Me:"Mom, what are you..."

Mom:"Ah, don't you worry. I am just taking care of my LITTLE boy. But looking at the bulge you're packing, it seems you're not so little. Haha"

Me:"Mom... Stop it."

Mom:"Oh, come on. Don't you tell me you don't like these perfect tits. That you never wanted to touch them. And this pussy. God, you're really gonna enjoy this. And I can't wait to enjoy that dick" she said as she squeezed her tits and touched herself over the pants she was wearing.

As she finished, she quickly sat on top of me, I still couldn't react. She then pressed something against my chest, which hurt real bad. I passed out.

I opened my eyes and realised I sat on top of someone. "What the fuck?" I saw my own face smiling at me, My old hands were now placed on my hips. And I felt something below me... hardening

My body:"So, how do you like those tits... MOM?"

Me:"What the hell?!? What did you do?"

My body:"I gave you a gift. You can enjoy those tits and that tight wet pussy you like to peek on. You dirty WHORE. And unless you want to be fucked by your own body, I suggest you get off, because I am more then ready to shoot."

I moved and fell on the ground. I look down and indeed. My muscular chest was replaced by a pair of big boobs. My mother's boobs. I am my MOTHER

Me:"Mom, why are you doing this? Why me?"

My body:"Ah, you're so naive. I am not your mom, Logan. Or I should call you Cristine, now. Or better yet, MOM."

He started flexing and laughing at me

My body:"The chicks are gonna love this. I can't wait to fuck someone as a man again. Being a woman sucks."

I still sat there in shock, watching my body posing, flexing and enjoying his new reflection.

Only then I noticed the phone next to the mirror. My body noticed it.

My body:"Oh this? That's for me to have a memory. And also an insurance if you won't behave. I recorded what I did in your mother's body and If you won't behave I won't hesitate to use that as evidence to get you in prison. Unless you want to join your father and mother in prison, I suggest you behave. Now, go cook something, woman. I am hungry and now I got a job to do."

I got up from the floor, looking back at my body, feeling up my body.

I need to get help somehow

Prisoner's P.O.V.

Getting this kid's body is like a gold medal. After many years in my overweight body and then being that woman, this is by far the best thing yet.

I took out his phone to snap a few photos.

This kid has an amazing body. I can't wait to put it to test.

A message came to his phone number from LOVE<3. I browsed through the messaged. Fuck, this kid is gay. Nevermind, gonna turn him straight and dump this fucker. There won't be no more gay shit under my watch.

"Jeez. He's like a sculpture. If I had looked like this before, I wouldn't have to steal from all those people. This is amazing. Let's get this body showered and ready for Stacy."

At Stacy's house

Stacy:"Fuck. I can't believe it worked again. I was worried, that you would stay in that woman's body. I couldn't picture us like that back together."

Prisoner:"Don't worry, my darling. I found myself a great body for you to suck and enjoy. Wait till you see the dick that this kid has. Not only it is big, but the head of the cock is so strange, but hot at the same time."

They started making out. The tongues moving from one mouth into another. But there was a problem, that has never happened before.

Prisoner:"Wait. Something is wrong."

Stacy:"It happens sometimes. Remember that you're in other man's body and you're still not used to it."

Prisoner:"It's not that. This kid is gay. I think I can't get hard for you."

Frustrated and bored, the new Logan rested in the living room of his new body. The "mother" was walking around suspiciously, but careful.

Prisoner:"This is bullshit. I can't be gay forever. I need to find a better body to swap."

The younger brother rushed in with his way too loose Spiderman costume to hug his brother, who now wasn't used to it and pushed him off of himself.

Kyle:"Why did you do that?"

Prisoner:"I don't want another man to touch me."

Kyle:"You're funny, Logan. If you wouldn't have a boyfriend, i would believe you."

Prisoner:"Right."

Kyle:"Ok, so byeee."

Prisoner:"Where are you going dressed like that? It's not Halloween."

Kyle:"To Johnny's. We are having a costume party sleepover, while his older brother is gonna look after us."

Prisoner:"Who is the brother? Do I know him?"

Kyle:"Yeah, you do. You played football together. He's in university."

Prisoner:"Hmm. Interesting." I just hope it's not another gay jock like this one.

Prisoner:"Kyle? I have a cool deal for you. Wanna hear it?"

Kyle:"I bet mom won't know a difference between me and Logan. I can pretend to be him easily without her noticing. But I wonder why would Logan do that. It's nice of him that he gave me his body to try the costume, but he went to that party instead of me. I was looking forward to that."

Kyle pulled up the zip of the costume and started doing Spiderman poses.

Kyle:"Hell, yeah. Wait till the boys see how my costume first better then everybody else's!"

[cultofcipher]

Bill Cipher thoughts (BoB Spoilers Ahead)

I'm really sitting on how Bill's displayed so much of himself indirectly in the BoB. How during the Love section he denies having exes, marking them out. How said exes show up SEVERAL times scratched out or are regarded with this bitterness of someone who did NOT do the breaking up part. Bill got dumped. Every time. And is desperately trying to bury his feelings.

And that's something I think the Book of Bill really highlights in a way. The fact that Bill has feelings. That deep down he's a broken triangle. It's all over the book's writing. Him pointing out how to use denial and rationalization and other bad coping mechanisms to basically ignore and lie to himself (and show us how to do it) and basically convince himself that he is as heartless as he tries to be. Him avoiding his exes. The tone he uses and the avoidance really giving the "I don't handle breakups well and I'm still petty about it". Him constantly telling himself that he's fine. He's not fine. Him crying over Ford leaving and getting wasted. Him being bitter about the henchmaniacs not calling. His regret over what happened to his world. His loneliness. GOD his loneliness. His self-hatred. His scathing remark about definitely NOT having some tragic backstory that humanizes him and how he's not an "I can fix him case". Calling himself a monster. His longing for home. The "Last one breathing". The "I tried to change the past". The "my hands shaking, as I realized I could never undo the". The "until there was no one left but me, covered in blood, alone in the universe". The goddamn "I don't want to die alone" Valentine's card. The last few pages. Just, the last few pages. That isolation, his pained "I'M FINE". The almost sad plea for someone to let him out.

Bill cares. He's fucked up, unstable, violent. But he does care about people he gets along with and he feels understand him. For every "I'm just playing the bit" and using people with nice gestures, I think a fraction of that is somewhat genuine. And he hates it. He hates his own vulnerability. He hates his lack of apathy. He's denying himself his own emotions constantly under so many layers of distractions, eldritch horrors, and repression. He can't think about home, about failure, about how every relationship he's ever had, platonically or otherwise, ended. And it wasn't on his terms.

Him talking about/to his mom when he's drunk. How his mom called him Billy as a kid. How his home life sounded simple. How Bill as an individual is anything BUT simple. And how his drunken state holds such fondness for that simplicity, yet it was suffocating. How he would've broken free eventually, inevitably, because he knew that's who he was. It's his nature. He was destined for more.

How it cost him everything.

How he's constantly chasing insanity like it's a drug. Like he needs the power trip to stay high. To not think too hard. To drown out his emotions and his self-reflections and everything he hates about himself.

How in Gravity Falls he still tried to get Ford to side with him after everything, cause that was his vulnerability showing, for the slightest glimpse of a moment. Cause he doesn't want to do it alone. Him reaching out to the reader in his book, because he doesn't want to do it alone. Can't do it alone. Even when he eventually betrays that person, I think him offering Ford that cushy spot alongside his henchmaniacs makes me think that yeah, Bill actually would've upheld his end of the deal.

He thinks he wants multiversal domination. He thinks Weirdmageddon is his Magnum Oppus. His purpose. But he's so lost. If he ever does get what he wants, he won't know what to do with himself. He'll be faced with the "Now what?". He'll hit the end of the road and realize how unsatisfying it is. How this isn't what he wanted.

How lonely it is to be God.

I think the Axolotl sees that in Bill. It's why he doesn't try to destroy him or attack him or anything. He sees that inner self of Bill. Sees him for what he really is. Someone who needs a LOT of therapy, a true, honest to goodness friend or partner in his life, and maybe a more sustainable life purpose or hobby. He has so much potential and in a way his pursuit of power, rather than being an actualization of his abilities, is a waste of them, because it gets him nowhere.

And he needs help, even if he doesn't think he does. He's a depressed alcoholic frat boy trying to drown his misery in a way that hurts and kills worlds. He's a girlfailure, a bisexual/pansexual disaster (he's at LEAST canonically bisexual or at MOST canonically pan cause this guy has dated both ways).

Bill's book is so incredibly amazing for what it is. All the lies, all the unrealiable narrator parts of Bill's facades and flaws and him being himself and all of his genuine thoughts and feelings bleeding through the lines and showing themselves but only in a way that you can really understand if you understand him and can tell when he's lying and when he's not. To see the real parts of him, and everything else. This book was perfect, and it was perfectly imperfectly him. This truly is Bill's book. It's so him in such a raw and genuine yet dishonest way. I'm gonna cherish this damn book forever.

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

about ur Logan headcanons…

him n his pregnant wife 🥺🥺

OMG YES!!!!!

Okay okay wait I’m so excited, thank you so much for the ask anon!!

Minors don’t interact!

(Dw it’s not all smut just some of it is <3) (teeny bit of breeding kink given the circumstances)

(Btw I would really really appreciate some comments because my last post got like 800 some (thank you btw!!) likes/blank reblogs and one comment 😭 you don’t have to but it would make my day!!)

-first, he literally will NOT leave you alone. You’re sleeping? He’s laying there too, pretending to sleep. You’re in the bathroom? He’s outside the door- hell, he’d go in there with you if you’d let him. He’s so so scared that your water will just magically break (even while you’re only a month in) and also so so obsessed with the fact that you’re gonna be parents

-that being said, this man would NEVER admit to it but he’s bought like 5 parenting books that he all but knows by heart. He’ll read them when you fall asleep, his old man glasses low on his nose as he does.

-he’s also been writing letters to your future child as the pregnancy goes on, one per month. “I don’t know what your name is yet, kid, but your mom and I can’t wait to meet you.” And it’s in his precious old man cursive and I can guarantee you that when you see it you’ll be crying for seven hours

-he loves brainstorming names with you. I personally see him as a girl dad and wanting a girl, but he’s still thinking of any and all possibilities. And he’s still gonna love it to death if it’s a boy, don’t you worry about him

-but because he’s so old so many of the names he picks are somewhat dated, and it’s ADORABLE. Ulysses, Ethel, Martha, etc.

-he’s been insistent on doing basically everything- the cooking, the cleaning, the building of the baby furniture. Except he usually needs your help, or for you to throw some seasoning on the food behind his back. But he doesn’t want his pretty baby with his baby to have to lift a single finger

-ESPECIALLY in the bedroom. This mf… he believes every single myth he sees on the internet, so he’s SUPER gentle and will always wear a condom, both of which are unheard of prior to your pregnancy.

-which is SUCH a switch from how he was while you guys were trying for a baby…

-see, Logan’s always had this raging breeding kink.

-so after many serious conversations leading into the decision that the both of you wanted to try for a kid…

-let’s just say Logan was more than ready

-the amount of money that had to go into sheets during this period was actually crazy

-look, Logan always fucks

-but when he was able to let his breeding kink take control, he was absolutely feral

-the moment you would get home from work he would pounce on you, ripping off your clothes before you even had a second to say hello

-you’d have already come three times before he’d throw you down, bending you in half into the mating press and absolutely ravishing you, pounding you deeper and deeper into the mattress

-and the mouth on him was FILTHY

-“can’t wait for everyone to see who you belong to.” “You’re gonna keep taking it until it takes, and then I’m gonna make you take it some more.” “Gonna look so pretty with that tummy all round with our baby.”

-he would make you cry and see stars in the absolute best way possible

-and then it took and all of a sudden he was more gentle than a… idk gentle thing? 😭

-the duality of man I tell you

-he’s gets so cuddly and it’s absolutely adorable. He’s always been one to lay his head on your lap of snuggle into you but now?? He’s always pulling you into his lap, his hand is always on your belly

-he loves how soft and squishy you’re becoming, especially your thighs and your breasts

-when you’re achey he’s quick to massage you, when you’re feeling sick he’s right there to hold your hair

-did I mention the cooking? Listen this man is really bad at cooking but he’s trying so hard with Martha Stewart and Gordon Ramsey videos. You can hear him calling himself an idiot sandwich when he fucks up, and it’s hilarious. Meanwhile you’ll be on the couch with one of your pregnancy cravings foods, pad thai with curry from two restaurants from two separate parts of town. Yes, Logan went and got it for you. 🥹

-he literally gets anything you want too, he’s wrapped around your finger. A miniverse, marshmallows and pickles? He’s got you. That very specific lip gloss that tastes really good? Done. Literally anything you want he’s getting it without question.

-he even watches whatever you want with minimal complaint

-he’s also already spoiling the child and it hasn’t even been born yet, the nursery has everything you can imagine. Toys, books, stuffed animals, games, legos, wall decor, literally everything

-and you guys don’t even know the gender so you both just threw a dart at a color wheel and themed the room after whatever color it ended on

-he wants to give this kid the life he never had, and there’s no doubt he will

-Logan Howlett is going to be a wonderful father, and he’s so excited to love on your child just as much as he loves on you

-<3

Xx

If you want your own set of headcanons or blurb fic, hit me up!!

[stone-stars]

happy 6 years of naddpod everyone <3 (alt title: the dragon pussy podcast making me cry for 6 minutes straight)

Transcript:

Mee Maw: That's true, but… there's also somethin' else. Murph: And you see she pushes her cloak to the side, and you see she has black scabs-- Caldwell and Jake: Oh, no! No no no! Moonshine: Oh, Melora! Murph: --and deep crick rot all over her chest and neck.

Marabelle, weakly: Jolene? I-- I didn't realize I was gonna get to-- say I was sorry. Moonshine (pretending to be Jolene): Thank you, of-- of course you're forgiven! I love you so much! You're my big sister!

Melora: You're not cursed. You were born like this.

Hardwon: (desperately) Gemma? Gemma? Gemma wake up. Gemma baby. Hey. Murph: You see she's-- she's-- she's cold and dead. Hardwon: Fuck!

Balnor: I couldn't help them. I can barely swing a sword. Alanis: There's a war coming, and everyone needs to fight. Even old men who don't know how.

Beverly, crying: No, he's-- he's my light. He's my Pelor! He always was! I strayed!

Bev Sr: You tell her the truth, Bev. You tell your mom that I died in the Feywild. Beverly: (crying) You know I'm bad at lying. Bev Sr: It's not a lie, Bev.

Deadeye: Yeah, I know I'm down a hand. And an eye. And a life. But I got a soul, and a family. And I finally know which is worth more.

Deadeye: I hate to think about what woulda happened to me, but maybe more I hate to think about who I still would've been if I had never met you.

Rosa: JV, I can't-- I can't find my lantern. JV: Aw, well look at that? There's a lantern right here. Rosa: Are you sure that's mine? JV: Yeah. Yeah, I'll-- I-- I'm gonna go look for mine.

Hardwon: --interpretation. I-- I-- Moonshine: Hardwon, I really don't want you to want to die, because I want you to live so much and I don't want to be alone in that feeling.

Lydia: Elias, is that you? Hardwon: It's uh-- It's still little Elias. You saved the child, ma.

Lydia: I don't know what I've been these past few years, I don't know what I've been these past few decades. But I want you to know that when I was your mother that... you were wanted.

Murph: Somebody who felt they could never have a child… um, is holding their child. Moonshine: I-- I didn't want to need you, dad, but… now that you're here… it-- it's kinda nice.

Murph: Your father has given you... a strategy guide on how to beat him. Caldwell: I have to look away so that the tears don't ruin the pages.

Beverly: (tearful) I don't want to go. I don't want to go. But I have to. It's my duty. I have to do this. Moonshine: Okay, youngin, I want you to know. I will love you whatever you choose to do. But, here's my two cents: A child has a duty to his father, but a hero has a duty to the world. Now, I've got my opinion of which you are. But it's time for you to decide.

Bev Sr: Thanks, Bev. I always-- I knew I could make the deal, because I knew you'd stop me.

Moonshine: (tearful) I-- I've been wanting to tell you about this for so long, and I just didn't get a chance to. And I don't know if I will, so I just wanted to make sure I told you.

Moonshine, crying harder as she goes on: Paw Paw. You are… You are my best friend. And you are the best part of me. (sobs) And I am so grateful. For-- (sobs) the fact that so much of our lives have been braided together. But… where I'm going, next-- after we beat Thiala, which we will-- you can't come, mmkay? So I just need to make sure that you are taken care of, and I need to make sure that you take care of some people, okay?

Pendergreens: This time, you picked me up. And you were nice to me for no reason.

Pendergreens: If when you come back... if I'm different? Moonshine: Mhm? Pendergreens: Just, remember me as I am now. 'Cause I like who I am when I'm around you.

Death: I will take everything from you-- Hardwon: Quit pointing at people! Death: --until you come with me. Hardwon: Ok-- I'll go! I'll go. Beverly: Hardwon, no! Hardwon: Bring her back, and I'll come. Bring her back.

Lydia: All my life, people told me what I had to be. You don't have to be anything other than what you are.

Lydia: I think you should talk to your friends. Not because you owe them an explanation, but because you deserve to be heard.

Melora: Beverly. Beverly: Yes? Melora: I wish you could grow up in a normal world, but the Gods have not blessed you with a normal life. You are… afflicted with duty. Things thrust upon you far beyond your years.

Melora: The world should have protected you, but you have been asked to protect it. What an honor, what an injustice.

Moonshine: How long do Half-Elves live? Mee Maw: You talkin' bout Hardwon? Moonshine: I mean-- It's on my mind.

Moonshine: I guess, if I'm being honest, I don't know what it's gonna be like to know Bahumia without Hardwon Surefoot. (tearful) And there's a part of me that doesn't want to find out what that feels like.

Moonshine: There is something sour I probably need to swallow, though. It is-- There's people you meet that are once in a timeless body lifetime kinda people, right? Mee Maw: Oh, yeah. Moonshine: Okay. Mee Maw: And you keep 'em with ya. Moonshine: Okay.

Moonshine: (crying) It's okay, Balnor. Like all the most powerful things in this world, I knew I was only borrowing you.

Hardwon: Moonshine, when-- When I left Irondeep, I-- I didn't know where I fit in. And then I met you, and you didn't just let me in. You brought me in, and you thought I was good.

Balnor: I hope that you all get to leave this world with the same comfort that I had: knowing that it's in good hands. I love you. Murph: "Your knight, Balnor."

[ouchthathurts]

❝ 𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐝𝐨 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟-𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. ❞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐬) ⋮ Daisuke x AFAB! Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⋮ 3.4k

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 ⋮ 1 | 2 |

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ⋮ Your best friend from high school is working at the same internship as you!

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⋮ Cross-Posted on AO3 | Second Person Point of View | Angst | References to sex | Series? | Marijuana Use | Alcohol Use

𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 ⋮ BINGO BANGO BABY!!!! I’ll be honest that I’m weighing on making this a series, I want o but I’m looking for the push

There’s a familiar warmness that breaks from the open window, you smack your lips as you feel your tongue roll against the roof of your mouth, the taste of fruity alcohol mixed with marijuana has nestled into your tastebuds.

You miss the tongue in your mouth that helped implant it, stirring around and you couldn’t be happier to have someone, you held in such high regard, mix with you. You clutch the blankets and pull them to your chest—

What is there left to hide from him?

You slowly pull yourself from under the blankets, your naked top now feels the sun beat onto your chest, you try to recollect last night and think about what your next actions should be. There’s familiarity in the room, the old scratched up records pinned to a wall with an acoustic guitar that was never played properly, work out bean bags, and a small round table with scratched up games' controllers on it. There’s a box of pizza, one slice left—

“You can have it, just heat it up in the morning.”

You don’t take it, no matter how much you feel the vibration in your stomach, you suck it up and began to collect your clothes scattered around the area. You see the familiar Sonic CD rug in the center of the room just before the bed, there you find your underwear, you see your shirt on top of the lava lamp next to his bed, and you find your bottoms next to your school bag.

Your shoes are downstairs, his parents always had slippers to offer at the door whenever you and/or his other friends would come over. It was the only thing they were really strict on when it came to him. You look inside your bag, nothing but schoolbooks and the binder you used for all your note taking, you throw it out the window and into one of the bushes in front of his house.

You look for your phone, on the dresser with some old DVDs of movies that his mother still had, none of them were really interesting except for this one you really enjoyed. ‘Your Name Engraved Herein’, it always made him cry, you had to comfort him after the movie but no matter how many times you tried to tell him that it’s okay, he just continued to bawl into your shoulder about how amazing this movie was.

Maybe it was because you didn’t pay attention to the movie, more focused on his expression as he experienced the movie, he’d tell you little tid bits and explained it to you afterwards when you told him you didn’t really understand. There was always commentary with him when it came to movies, you loved every second of his little movie watching sessions, friends would throw popcorn and hush him, but you eagerly leaned in to hear him whisper small facts about the movies he’d have you all watch.

Even when he finished explaining the movie you didn’t get it, but he told you: “I cried every time I’ve watched this movie without fail, ever since I was like in middle school, my mom would watch this movie, and it would be me and her crying our eyes out over it.”

You grabbed your phone, around the 20% mark it was mainly just texts from your mother about spending the night at his again, she would tell you that you were messing up the future she was perfectly crafting for you and that you needed to learn more discipline before college started. It was always grades, attendance, and extracurriculars with her.

You only did the bare minimum, average grades, average attendance, and chess club.

Your mother hated it.

“He's bringing you down! His parents don't even care about what he's up to! You think I'm gonna let you mess everything I have going for you for some low life boy who can't even follow something as simple as wearing a uniform to school?”

You defended him, like you always did, why wouldn't you? He was there for you when you were down, always there for you, like he was there for you this weekend. You kept scrolling through messages; besides your mother, it was only him who would text you daily.

You had people you studied with, your mother’s friends’ kids, and the family you were already distant with. You had to get home. You slid all your clothes on before you peeped your head through the door, the sound of the shower running and music coming from the speaker he took in the shower with him blaring through the empty house.

His father worked on weekends and his mother went grocery shopping Sunday, “Was it Sunday?” You thought out loud, you couldn’t think about the time you were last back at your house, you made your way down the stairs and towards the door when you found your shoes.

You slip them on and then make your way out; after closing the door you pick up the rock from the little pond, they had next his porch, you lock the door and place the key back where it belongs. You go through the bushes, searching for your bag and a huff out of frustration when you dust the dirt off of it.

There's another huff as you sling the bag over your shoulder and then silence, there's sounds of nature from his neighborhood and now her you were just walking down the street, hoping on the next bus and another back towards the apartment your mother and you shared.

As you unlock the door your mother sits on the couch, she's watching her programs with the same 4 speakers on the different channels she's gone through in the past

“At his place again?” And the way she can't even say his name, it melts off her tongue like a slur and you can't help but bite back a response before she gets up. “Well, how was it? His family feed you?” You shook your head, “No, ma'am. His parents weren't home.”

Why would you say that?

You see the anger in her face, “Oh?” The woman makes her way over to you, there's no hesitation in your stature as it's a routine check. The way she pulls down the collar of your shirt leaves your breath to hitch, you try to snatch her wrist only for her long and jagged nails to scratch at the skin of your palm leaving you to hiss in pain.

There's no surprise with the number of dark marks that were collected by the boy, it was his first time as much as it was yours. You feel the warmness in your cheeks before your mother's eyes burn into you, her stare boiling you alive as you do nothing but just stare at the ground.

“Look at me when I talk to you,” Your name is a bark of a command, called out like a show dog to those she wants to impress then kicked at like a mutt the rest of the time. You pull your head up, you don't want anymore imprints in your cheeks, your acne already fucking up your face as is.

“What did you two do?” You roll your eyes, mumbling ‘Nothing.’ before she snatches up your jaw, those nails now cut up the pimples on your face to leave the pus to pop out You want to whine, cry like a child, ‘Mommy! Stop! You're hurting me!’ You, unfortunately, allow this with your eyes creasing and a small frown rugging on your lips that seems don't only make her madder.

“Your breath reeks of weed and alcohol. I can't believe you'd go and mess around with that boy, after everything I told you!” The woman lets out a pained sigh, as if her coming to spit in your face and yell at you was somehow your puppeteering her to do so. “What if he got you pregnant? How could you do something so dumb! It doesn't even surprise me, he probably talked you into it–Knowing his little delinquent self and his little gang he's probably riddled with some type of disease.”

You want to tell her off, he would never do something like that, all his friends are different from him, they're all a bunch of party goers that just want to do narcotics and fuck each other silly.

“He's not like that.” You strained out of your pursed lips, your mother's tongue smacks against the roof of her mouth, “The boy is nothing but spoiled. His parents just give, give, give, give, and give to some little freeloader who's going to do nothing for his life besides leaching off his parents' money.” You can't hear this anymore.

“He's actually trying to get a job!” Your mother cackles, “Oh yeah? He's getting a job?” “Yes!” “Well, why doesn't he already have one like you do? You got your own job at the library when you were 14, you were obedient then, before you met that little…” There's a seething rage in the woman, she's sucking at her teeth, and she'll be grinding them into a fine powder if she continues.

You bite your tongue, he had definitely had an impact on you, like he always has. You wanted to try and dye your hair one day with him, layer your outfits, be outside of the uniform, wear make up, dress up on those days where you were allowed casual dress, and take your time with life in general.

Those nights he'd stare at stars on the roof with you, he'd point up and explain how sometimes he felt so small in this world. “This is really the one way I can try and be in impact on such a big world!” He gestures to his brightly colored outfit; you find yourself lost in his expression as it's just a nice mix of brightly colored acrylics that melded with his tanned skin.

You admire him.

Even as spit hits your face you're left with the same rant over and over again, “I work hard at my job so you have all the tools not to end up like me, slaving away for some ungrateful brat of a child, instead never having kids and being happy you don't have to waste your money on some freeloader until it's too late.”

Your mother took responsibility to raise you, even after your father was distant to the idea, it be some apparent that these two were working in separate directions that only pulled you apart.

Honestly, if it wasn't for him, you'd be on the ground with a full bottle of pills being guzzled down your throat.

Your mother notices your expression and she huff, “Stop being around, hanging around him, being around him, he'll do nothing but drag you down and he won't be doing you any good in the future other than a book up for narcotics.” The woman gets all in your face, “You wanna end up like me? I only stopped doing all those things once I found out I was pregnant with you! Do you really want to end up like me?”

Strikes a nerve.

You never wanted to be like your mother, her sad life with a child who could only resent their mother, her boyfriend who abandoned her to go do more drugs, and no one to fall on. It's sad, you feel for her, you see where she's coming from you, and you sigh upon seeing her fall to her knees to grab at yours.

The woman sobs into your thighs, wincing at the familiar grip from the night before most definitely bruising them from such harsh treatment, “Pl-ease!” The squeak in her voice as she says your name, she is begging and all you can do is try to comfort a woman who has never taught you how to comfort someone. You rub her head, and she sighs, sniffling a bit before she continues, “I don't want you to end up like me! Don't love someone who's only going to bring you down! I know you can do better!”

Your mother wouldn't tell you it now, but you were now stuck with this. Your mother always knew if you were around him, she worked there as the librarian. You were called to stay later helping your mother, doing more on campus, and a demand for straight as after a C in an AP course came up.

It wasn't surprising since the both of you took the same class.

You couldn't let your mother win but here you were, letting her win, and you could do nothing as you found her beginning to bring the hammer down. “I can't let ever you make a mistake that big again.” You were tested for everything; she kept track of your periods and was around you whenever you had free time.

“You've been summoned to the library,” The dreaded phone call before you left class, it killed something in you when you and he could barely talk most days. You guys didn't really share class, even when he went out his way to take APs it became apparent to him how much harder it was for him to really keep up with you.

Those daily ‘Good morning!’ messages fell into weekly ‘Have a good week!” texts. Not because of him, but because of you. You couldn't even keep up with everything, once your mother pinpointed the college you needed to get into or she'd kick you out, simply if you applied yourself the way your mother wanted.

But it meant you'd have to leave him behind…

D-S ▼⁠・⁠ᴥ⁠・⁠▼

Hey! I know last night was a lot. I'm sorry if I messed up, I know I wasn't going to be the best but I’m sure you'll have other people do it way better than me!

1:30 PM 9/05

Good morning! Good morning! Good morning!

9:45 AM 9/06

When do you get off work today?

4:30 PM 9/06

I'm getting pizza, do you want me to get you a box???

2:49 PM 9/14

Y'know one for now, one for when you're depressed! I finally got the reference!

2:58 PM 9/14

Are you okay?

3:24 AM 9/30

Did I do something wrong?

3:25 AM 9/30

I'm sorry if I did anything wrong

3:29 AM 9/30

I mean that, I'm really sorry

3:33 AM 9/30

Can we talk?

3:34 AM 9/30

We haven't like sleep called in forever, and it would give us time to talk stuff out, whatever I did wrong you can tell me.

3:45 AM 9/30

Please?

3:48 AM 9/30

I didn't know you and Ange became friends I always thought you both hated each other.

12:39 PM 10/19

I didn't do our matching costumes it felt like a disservice if it wasn't with you.

4:29 PM 10/30

Dude, family's being weird, wish you were here!

7:38 PM 11/28

Happy Holidays, I got you something! Do you know when I can come over and give it to you?

11:29 AM 12/25

Hey, I'm having this new year party! Y'know like new year new me! I plan on trying out for stuff like sports and getting on my academics!

9:28 AM 12/31

I'm tryna get like you!

9:40 AM 12/31

My parents asked about you today, they were like ‘When are you coming over?’ and ‘What are you up to these days?’

10:02PM 1/17

Happy Valentine's Day, I know you got a lot of stuff cause you're just cool like that

10:38AM 2/14

Even I got you something!

10:38 AM 2/14

Lmk when I can give it to you!

10:38 AM 2/14

I'm sorry for being annoying this year, I really am sorry for anything I did to you. Have a good time in college!

11:00 AM 6/30

You began to avoid him, he'd go to the library to rent out a book and watch as you restock, he'd text you and you'd have the read receipt there just to think about responding to him only to put the phone down, you walk around campus without a care, cordial whenever faced with head on confrontation, and that's how it was until you graduated.

You went off, pursued your own interest in space your mother said it was your choice to study nut it needed to make enough money for you and her. Now you were just as excited to get on and do things outside of your mother now that you were finally free from the woman. You decided to take all your classes online, you'd had this internship lined up for you and nothing could bring you more joy than joining the manpower in space.

There's a big smile on your face as you meet your comrades, Curly, your pilot and Jimmy, the Co-Pilot, you'd be shadowing the two for tour duration of their trip on the Pony Express. Anya, the nurse, who would be the only woman on the ship, you loved to be around her and her little jokes. Then there was Swansea, he wouldn’t stop complaining about having some intern, “They better pull their weight.” The man grumbled out.

You weren’t shocked to find out you guys were waiting on another guy, the two of you added last minute on behalf of the Pony Express, finally a guy popped through the door, explaining that he was at a party the night before celebrating Earth before he had to leave. Your eyes crease as you examine the man’s features, ‘No fucking way.’

That lovingly sun kissed complexion that had the contrast of his brighter highlights against his already chestnut colored hair. There, on his face, stood the markers for where you kissed on him that night, a mole under his right eye and the left mole lower down his round cheeks.

The fact that he couldn't even wear the uniform alone almost made you fall before him, he hadn't changed in ways you thought he would, and it tore at your heartstrings to realize how much you missed him. The familiar sound of the two bangles on his wrist that contrasted the red wrist band he wore that you also had from the first party he took you to.

There's a plethora of excuses that rush out of his mouth, and you just listen to now his voice only be one softer to your ears. Earning its way into your eardrums to nestle in your memory in order to haunt you for the rest of your stay.

While the group continues to get everything on the ship there's a silence that falls between the two of you when his eyes finally land on you. Your friend was a day you could never forget, the morning after your happiest night alive, you'd coo into his ear that you loved him, and he'd do the same with a chaste kiss on your forehead.

Yet, here you were, reliving those memories and wondering how the fuck do you even start the conversation. You watch as he makes his way over, your rib cage encased around your organs before crushing them like a corset.

With each step your breath hitches, your eyes faltering between looking him in the eyes only for your nostrils to fill with disgustingly sweet peach cologne he had to have. Why wear something like that for all these years? You're grateful he would even wear something like this to this day.

There's a hand on front of you, wide open with some rings on his fingers, his fingers spread a bit and when you take one last inhale of his cologne you pull your head up to look him in the eyes. There's a warmness in his face, it hasn't worn down and has only brightened since you last saw him, you feel your heart clench as you hear his voice.

“Heya! I'm Daisuke, I’m psyched to be working with someone as new as me!”

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