#a spoiled little rich boy who hated his mom and had a like

[shaanks]

Night Wolf dir. Jonathan Glendening

[leaderwonim]

𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐘 — fourteen: because you tolerated me

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. lee heeseung x fem!reader, park sunghoon x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲. Y/N always knew that her high school was dominated by wealth and privilege. Upon having a one night stand with popular athlete Lee Heeseung, she uncovers that Heeseung's friend group controls not only social dynamics but also school policies and local affairs, revealing a hidden world of power and manipulation behind their so called perfectly polished exteriors

author’s note: wrote this at 11pm and just finished at 12:25am 😭 my roommate told me to head to bed but i haaaaad to update for you guys so!!! enjoy the lore, hopefully it’s not too confusing ??

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Hanni isn’t so sure what to do. On one hand, she thinks she hates your guts, but on the other, she knows that she really doesn’t.

In fact, Pham Hanni had lived across from you at the ripe age of three, your moms having shared the same apartment complex. Hanni hated everything about that place, it was poorly managed, and quite frankly, cheap.

“Nini!” Little you yelled, your chubby baby hands reaching out for the girl in front of you. “Nini!”

You never knew her actual name because you were so young, referring to her only as Nini.

Hanni loved playing with you, she would beg her mom to bring over some spoiled bread they had in the pantry to pretend to play tea party and eat.

By the time Hanni turned six, her father took custody of her. Her father worked under a man named Park Hyunwook, and that was where she met Park Seojun.

He was a fairly skinny boy, but he made himself look charming nonetheless. Seojun took Hanni under his wing whenever her dad was busy in his father’s company, and soon enough, the two of them became best friends.

They became close to the point where that he made sure his father secured a spot in Decelis for Hanni.

“I’ll quit football if you don’t do it,” he threatened, which earned him a painful slam into the door by his own father.

It worked, though.

Hanni met Jungwon in her sophomore year of high school. He was a cute, rather calm composed boy who reminded her so much of a cat. She swore she fell inlove in an instant.

They talked for quite a while, and eventually, Jungwon did ask Hanni to be his girlfriend.

He stumbled upon Seojun and her hugging after class, and even though Hanni swore to her heart that it was platonic, the younger boy wasn’t having any of it.

So she spilled it out. She told him why they were hugging—of course she did—she loved Jungwon, how could she let her relationship just go down the drain like that?

“My dad’s threatening to pull me out of Decelis if I don’t tell my mom to stop contacting him.” She explained, and Jungwon didn’t understand what Seojun had to do with it.

Turns out, Seojun’s father was the one paying the tuition. If she was pulled out of Decelis, she would never see any of her friends ever again.

“Well, I don’t care if you’re rich or not Han, I love you.”

Despite Yang Jungwon promising his love to her, all Seojun could think about was how scandalous it could be if word ever got out that his father was paying for Hanni’s spot when millions of scholarship kids were still waiting.

So he killed him. Pushed him off a cliff. Seojun wasn’t a monster—maybe he was an awful person—but that didn’t mean he hated Jungwon. He just couldn’t risk it. His reputation was far way more important than some guy his friend was dating.

Besides, Hanni was a pretty girl. She’d find loads of boyfriends by the time Jungwon was gone.

“Are you listening to me? Hello?”

Heeseung waves a hand in front of your face, a playful smile comes to his face when he sees you snap out of your daze.

“Sorry,” you say. “I was just…”

He looked over at your direction, sighing when he sees Sunghoon and Hanni all close to each other. “Looking at the newly inlove couple? Yeah, I know.”

“Inlove is a reach.”

Heeseung shrugs. “I just want class to end so I can take you out for dinner.”

You practically choke at his confident tone. “We made up literally a few days ago.”

“So? I mean it when I say you’re important to me, Y/N.”

Any girl in your spot would’ve dropped dead at Lee Heeseung practically melting in a puddle in your presence.

“You should smile more,” Sunghoon says from the table across yours, his hands coming under Hanni’s chin to smush her two cheeks together.

She slaps his arm away, annoyed. “You’re lucky Seojun didn’t kill you.”

Sunghoon grows tense at that, his eyebrows furrowed. “What did you say to me?”

“Nothing.”

Danielle grows uncomfortable in her seat, her eyes dashing around the room. “How’s home life Hanni?”

Hanni shrugs, stabbing her fork into the mushy mashed potatoes the school had served. “Nothing better than before.”

She wanted to cry so badly in her seat. But if anyone had caught onto the tears that were forming at the edge of her eyes, she would lose the reputation she so desperately worked hard to maintain.

“Excuse me.” She hurriedly rushed off. Sunghoon stands up after her, but Danielle places a hand in front of him.

“Just let her be Hoon.”

And who was Sunghoon to argue with Danielle?

She practically grows limp as she reaches the end of the empty corridor, far away from the cafeteria. Her mascara is probably smudged like crazy, and she doesn’t even want to think about how insane she might look to a passerby.

“Are you okay?” You don’t register the crying girl as Hanni at first. You had just bid goodbye to Heeseung and dropped him off at his business management class, so you were in a rush to get to your class before your teacher gave you detention.

“Just leave me alone.”

Your eyes widened. “Hanni?”

Hanni never felt more embarrassed in her entire life. She didn’t even know why she was crying so hard.

Sunghoon, despite always being around her, was never truly there for her.

Sure, he was there when she broke down in tears complaining about her dad, but he only used that as collateral against her when Seojun had threatened him after he too found out about how Seojun’s dad had been paying for Hanni’s tuition.

Hanni had opened up to him more than she knows she should’ve. She told him how much she hated her dad, how everytime she went home from Decelis, she couldn’t wait to go back because she couldn’t stand an day in that house, let alone an hour.

And what did Sunghoon do with that information? He used it against her.

Sunghoon wasn’t like Yang Jungwon. Seojun couldn’t just kill him off, he was an important asset to the Park Administration for the local politics, the same ones that Seojun’s father was running for.

Killing Sunghoon was too much of a big risk for everybody involved.

Sunghoon knew he had that power over Seojun. He knew Park Seojun couldn’t cry to his daddy about him and he knew that he could destroy Hanni’s whole life with a snap of his fingers.

But he didn’t. It wasn’t fun that way. Plus, like Seojun said, Hanni was a pretty girl. Much prettier than other girls at Decelis. Sunghoon actually liked her.

Heeseung just had to get in his way. The boy knew Hanni first, but Sunghoon managed to squeeze his way to the top within months of joining the friend group. He knew Lee Heeseung had too much of a weak stomach to keep secrets like this. Lee Heeseung was a coward, and would always be in Sunghoon’s eyes.

“Drop him.”

“What?”

“Are you deaf? I said drop him.”

Hanni didn’t want drop Heeseung. She just wanted to feel loved. Heeseung made her feel loved. Sure, she didn’t like him enough to actually pursue him—but she loved the attention and adoration he had for her despite seeing through all her faults. Lee Heeseung cared for her, she just didn’t have the energy to care for him back.

So she let herself reject Heeseung’s confession on the night of Seojun’s gala, she let Sunghoon humiliate him in front of their whole friend group, she agreed to become Sunghoon’s girlfriend.

Why? Because Pham Hanni’s reputation was too big for her to let a man destroy it.

“You can tell me what’s wrong, you know, I won’t judge.”

“God, I hate you.” She whispers, hands harshly rubbing away the tears.

“Why Hanni? What did I ever do to you?”

“Because you tolerated me.” She cries even more. “Because you never once called me out on my behavior, because despite me being a total bitch, you were always nice to me.”

You had no idea what to say, so you didn’t say anything. You just rubbed Hanni’s back, wondering why the hell you were actually feeling bad for the girl who made your life a living hell for weeks.

[agendabymooner]

dadventures with the schuminis: rock it, minnie! || ms47 scenario (1)

dad!mick schumacher (x ofc) centric

EXTENSION TO THE LITTLE SCHUMINIS

Summary: A series in which Mick Schumacher tackles the challenges and moments of being a father to his little carbon copies with his father Michael Schumacher (alongside his in-law Sebastian Vettel, who continues to deny that he was a grandfather while accepting his role as the Schumacher kids’ Opa).

Scenario summary: With Minna’s first birthday coming up, Mick struggles to find the perfect gift that she’ll learn to cherish forever. Thankfully, Michael still knows how to make Gina’s old rocking horse and Sebastian knew how to operate the electric sander. AND Michael and Sebastian are insufferable as in-laws.

Content warning: dad!Mick Schumacher, grandpa!Michael Schumacher and Sebastian Vettel being competitive as grandparents, Seb denying he’s a grandpa, terms of endearment, fluff, mentions of pregnancy, Mick making a dirty joke, brief German translations, mentions of grandma!OFC (Bel Vettel) spoiling Minna

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Mick Schumacher knew that his off days were numbered. He hated that he had to count his days and immediately head back to the road and race. 

But he did what he had to do for the sake of giving his daughter a better future— whether it had something to do with their financial situation (they were rich as hell) or her desire to follow Mick’s footsteps to become a racer (Mick was praying to god she didn’t want to be a racer), he persisted on staying and racing for the season for the sake of his family. 

Regardless of his limited days off, he did what he could do and participated in the event planning for his firstborn's first birthday celebration. His wife, Barbie, insisted that she and Gina were handling it well, but he wanted to do something special alongside them. 

And so Barbie and Gina assigned him to find his daughter a special gift for the celebration. “Something that would mean to her in the long run,” his sister said. 

His face paled a little when she said that. It was so cryptic and vague. It was just vague. 

He thought about the theme of the party at first. Minna Elisa’s first birthday party was running with the farm theme.

When it was first suggested by Gina, Mick almost snorted to ridicule the thought. “We already grew up around them,” he said, “I don’t think Minna would appreciate that. Why can’t it be just horses?” 

Then Barbie and Mick’s mother Corinna agreed to Gina’s idea. After all, Minnie was already showing a great interest in animals! Specifically horses.

Horses. 

RIGHT! Mick almost yelled and stood up, looking for his old photo albums. He skimmed through the pages and wondered what his and Gina’s rooms looked like before in Texas. The Schumacher siblings loved their home in Texas— especially their rooms. Mick’s room was converted to be Kimi and Stefan Vettel’s guest rooms but they remained with the same theme of western style and horses. 

Then, just as he browsed through his pictures with Gina in her bedroom, his eyes immediately zeroed in on the pink and blue wooden rocking horse that his baby self sat on while Gina stood next to the boy. 

He knew what he wanted to get his little girl now.

And so the first thing he did was phone his parents. He called Corinna’s phone, but it was Michael who had answered the call.

“Mick?” 

“Oh, hey Dad, is mom there?” Mick nearly facepalmed. This was literally Corinna’s phone he had called.

“Am I that boring to you, Mickie?” Michael scoffed, making Mick roll his eyes. “I can hear your eyes rolling from here. Seriously, is there anything I can help with? Your mom is out at the back right now.”

“Yes, actually,” Mick cleared his throat and stared at the picture of him and Gina as he continued, “I saw this photo of me and Gina in the ranch— her room actually. Gina had this wooden rocking horse and I’m wondering if we still have it there. I’m hoping to ask Gina if I can get it and restore it as a gift for Minnie’s birthday?” 

“Oh. That pink and blue one?”

“Yup, that one.”

“Gina broke it when she was five and we had it thrown out,” Michael almost sighed at the memory.

Mick winced when he learned the news. “Why- ugh Gina.”

“We told her that she can’t ride it anymore but she was persistent,” Michael chuckled. “Why would you restore it when you can just buy one?”

“Because it would mean a lot more if Minna got the same one her Aunt Gina has,” Mick murmured. “She’ll see it in the pictures and be like ‘Wow this was my Auntie G’s!” 

“Huh,” Michael let out a hum. “That’s… that’s very thoughtful, Mick. But sadly we don’t have it in Texas, anymore.” 

Mick let out a sigh of defeat. He could just always get Minna a new one, but it would mean a lot if his daughter got something from their childhood that she would enjoy as well. 

Michael had a different thought, however. 

The 7-time world champion had spoken up again after hearing absolutely nothing from his son, “It was something that I made from scratch, Mick.” 

Mick’s eyes quirked at the sound of this as he asked, “You made it?” 

“Ralf and I did,” Michael replied, referring to Mick’s uncle as Michael continued, “I still remember what it looks like and if you’d like, we can make it. Though I doubt that you’d have time to—“

“NO, NO, NO!” Mick panicked, wincing at the volume of his voice as he looked back at the entryway of the living room. Barbie would kill him if his tone woke the baby up. Then he began speaking as quietly as possible, “I’m not busy on my next off— surely it won’t take us long to make it right?”

“You have to rest for the—“

“—Dad, I’m begging you right now please help me,” Mick pleaded desperately. “I have a doubleheader after my next off and I wouldn’t have time in the future like Dad please.”

Michael immediately interrupted Mick, “Mick for the love of god, stop freaking out—“

“—Sorry,” Mick muttered. “Didn’t mean to freak out. ‘S just… I haven’t done anything for Minnie’s birthday and this is her first birthday. My first kid’s first birthday. I’m already missing out on most of her life and I can’t even do anything for her first birthday? What kind of a father would I be?”

Michael understood. He understood fully what Mick felt and he wouldn’t deny that. He was a father as well, and he rarely saw Gina and Mick during the season— he had often labelled himself as a shitty father for it. It was only fair that Michael understood how Mick felt now that he, too, was a father. 

But instead of expressing his empathy outright, Michael only sighed and spoke, “Lassen Sie uns morgen mit klaren Köpfen beginnen.” Let’s start with clear minds tomorrow.

“Was meinst du, Dad?” What do you mean, Dad? Mick asked. 

“We’ll plan out what to do in two weeks then start,” Michael told his son through the phone and instructed, “It’ll take us a while to figure it out so I need you to clear your brain and sleep it off. Don’t get too stressed, Mickie. ‘s not good for you— Minnie’s a baby but she can feel stress when it’s nearby.” 

“Okay,” Mick cleared his throat, now determined to stay sane for a little while. “I’ll do that.”

“Don’t get too antsy about not being able to do anything,” Michael reassured him. “Everyone around you already knows you’re doing more than you think.” 

“Alright,” Mick murmured softly, “th- thanks dad. Say hi to mom for me, yeah?”

“You guys~” Barbie had walked into the deck of their home, her face offering her husband Mick and father-in-law Michael a puzzled look. 

“You two have been here for hours,” Barbie told them as if she was worried. She had been hearing some strange noise at the deck earlier today alongside the murmuring. Knowing Mick and Michael, she assumed that they were just relaxing at the back. 

Yet here she was, looking at them with a baffled look as she watched Mick’s hand pull away from the half-cut lumber and electric saw.

“No we’re not,” Michael quipped, “we’ve been here for two.” 

“Hours,” Barbie emphasized. “Minna just—“ 

“Da! Da!” Corinna had followed suit and walked out with eleven-month-old Minna in her arms, grinning as the baby continued to babble happily.

“Yeah, what Minna said,” Barbie murmured, stepping back as she said, “she just woke up from her nap.”

“Aw, is that right, meine kleine Minnie?” My little Minnie. Michael cooed, arms extending to reach for his granddaughter as he carried Minna in his arms. He grinned heavily as he began to move around with the little girl. “Did you have a good nap, liebe?”

“Pip!” Minna shrieked, only knowing that word alongside ‘Ma’ and ‘Da.’ “Pip!”

“Is that a yes or a no?” Michael hummed before pressing a kiss on the little one’s chubby cheek. “I assume it’s a yes.”

“Oh definitely a yes,” Barbie chuckled, “I know what Mick looks like waking up from a nap— she's definitely a Schumacher who had a good nap.” 

Mick groaned playfully, earning a giggle from Barbie. 

“By the way,” Barbie brought up, “Seb is coming over with Kimi and Stefan.” 

“Oh great, look, Dad, Seb’s helping us,” Mick looked at Michael. 

“What’re you two doing anyways?” Corinna asked, her eyes looking at the scattered tools and piled-up lumber. Barbie found herself looking as well, curious eyes now trained at the cans of paint as she looked back at the father-son duo. 

“Stuff,” Mick shrugged nonchalantly.

“Wow aren’t you specific,” Corinna muttered.

“It’s for Minnie’s birthday,” Michael waved off the two women, “don’t worry about it. It’ll be done by the end of the day.”

“Minnie’s birthday is in four weeks,” Mick continued, “I wanted to make something for her so… yeah.”

“You don’t even know how to make something wood-related, Mick,” Barbie replied with a raised brow.

Mick then murmured, “I’ll show you something wood-related— ow, Mom!” Corinna smacked Mick on the back of his head and glared at him, gesturing back to Minna. 

Michael snorted aloud, making Minna laugh at the sound. 

“That’s your child in front of you, Mick,” Barbie warned with a cheeky grin. “Careful with your words now, yeah?” 

Mick only rolled his eyes. It wasn’t as if Minna could understand that easily. 

“Besides,” Barbie continued, “shouldn’t you be talking to Seb about… lumber stuff? He’s made an impressive apiary before.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Michael scoffed and waved off the offer, “I’ve made this before. It’s nothing I can’t do. Sebastian’s never done this— he wouldn’t be that good without any instruction.”

Corinna and Barbie traded looks. If there was something that the Schumachers and Vettels knew, it was that Sebastian was good at a lot of things— so the fact that Michael was underestimating his woodworking skills? That definitely wouldn’t sit right with Seb especially if he’s heard of it.

Sebastian Vettel wasn’t usually like this, but when Corinna brought up Michael’s comments about his skills the 4-time world champion couldn’t help but lean against the deck railing with a smirk. In his hand was a bottle of beer, watching the Schumacher men struggle with sanding the wood surfaces that they’ve cut. Or rather, they didn’t know how to operate the electric sander. 

Mick groaned, “Seb— some help please?” He turned to look at the driver, who kept leaning against the railing with a cheeky smile.

“I would but Michael said I can’t be good without ins—“

“Oh come on, have a laugh, Seb,” Michael looked at Sebastian in annoyance, making the man finally cave in and laugh. “Just come help— this is your granddaughter’s gift too—“

“No, don’t call Minnie that,” Sebastian interrupted Michael and shook his head. “Don’t call her my granddaughter.”

“Is she not?” Mick raised a brow. He was merely teasing. After all, Sebastian proudly called himself Barbie’s (foster) father — therefore he was a proud Opa to the little Minna Schumacher. 

Seb just refused to be called a grandfather. He wasn’t that old yet. Fernando Alonso was literally older than him! He sometimes denied that he was a grandfather— but he wouldn’t ever deny Minnie the right to call him Opa.

“Step away,” Sebastian said, now handling the sander as he started it. “You should’ve called me earlier today— I would’ve gone and done all of this.”

“Dad said he could do it, that's why I thought we didn’t need some help,” Mick reasoned.

Sebastian gave his mentor Michael a look and said, “Minna’s not just your granddaughter, Michael. Learn to share responsibilities. I have to spoil her too.”

Michael rolled his eyes, “Just sand the whole thing so we can paint it.”

Minna Schumacher’s first birthday party was anything but simple. The little one had charmed people with her signature Schumacher grin and had giggled at almost anything. 

But it wasn’t just her adorable and charming being that turned the environment of the party up a notch. Her little heart-studded cowboy boots gathered the attention of most guests as she slowly walked and stomped around the venue, smiling up at whoever she came across as her mother Barbie assisted her. 

“Oh my, is that my Minnie baby?” Barbie grinned at her mother Bel Vettel as the little one excitedly stomped her feet down. Minna immediately sped up her steps and leaned forward to be reached by Bel. 

The older woman, despite not looking the part, took Minna in her arms and hoisted the baby up with a light grunt. Bel grinned and squealed at Minna, “You are such a big girl now, Minnie! Whatever will Oma do about it?!” 

“Oma,” Minna babbled repeatedly before putting her little hands over Bel’s cheeks. The baby continued to babble as Bel nodded along. 

Bel then looked over at her daughter and smiled, “And you? I’ve heard you’re feeling sick lately.” 

Barbie rolled her eyes playfully, “It’s hard to keep things a secret in this family, huh?” 

Bel chuckled, “You know that we’re only worried. Are you okay though, Barbie? Corinna said—“

“Nina!” Bel and Barbie chuckled at Minna’s excited expression. 

Bel then continued, “She said that you’re feeling ill— or at least Mick’s been telling her.”

“Mm, yeah,” Barbie hummed, reaching to fix Minna’s pigtails as she continued, “I’ve been throwing up and all that… I think I know—“

“—I knew it,” Bel squealed, bouncing Minna in joy as she cooed at the baby, “Minna’s gonna be a big sis huh? Are you?” 

Barbie chuckled happily, “I have a hunch. Let’s just not tell Mick or the others yet, if that’s okay. I don’t want them to get their hopes up.”

“Yeah, of course,” Bel grinned, pressing kisses on Minna’s face. “I’ve got more babies to spoil— and I thought Stefan and Kimi’s gonna be the only kids I’ll be able to spoil!” 

“I still can’t believe you got her a bag,” Barbie rolled her eyes, making Bel giggle as Barbie continued, “She won’t be able to use that for a while, Bel. She's only a year old.”

“Yeah, but she’s my Minnie baby,” Bel pouted dramatically. “You know I wouldn’t pass up the chance to spoil my little Minnie, no, Bebe?” Bel grinned at the toddler as Minna replied with a laugh.

“Bel,” Barbie sighed, “you got her a Hermes.”

“Only the best from Oma Bel,” the older woman grinned, making Barbie sigh again.

Barbie then said, “Only the best for Minna— I feel like I’ve heard everyone say that.” 

“Of course,” Bel quipped, “everyone wants to be Minna’s favourite. But it seems like her Da and Pippa will win that title sometime soon.” 

They both looked over where the wooden rocking horse was. It was majestic— the handiwork that Mick and Michael made for the little girl. 

It was similar to the one that Mick showed Barbie. But instead of the pastel blue and pink, the rocking horse was painted with the colours of Michael Schumacher’s racing suit back when he won his first world championship— the Benetton blue and yellow accentuated in the wooden horse while his driver number was painted on the sides of the horse.

Barbie chuckled softly, “Don’t say that out loud— Seb might hear. You know that he wants to be Minna’s favourite grandpa no matter how much he refuses to get called one.” 

On the other side of the room, the birthday girl’s dad Mick, and her grandfathers Michael and Sebastian (who still called himself ‘Opa’ rather than ‘Grandpa’) stood as they looked over where the wooden horse was. 

“I’m surprised that it turned out well,” Mick mumbled. Sebastian and Michael hummed in agreement. “Minnie wouldn’t stop going to it since she found it.”

“Well that’s good,” Michael joked, “otherwise I wasted hours of my time for nothing.”

“This was an eye-opener for me, you know?” Mick told the two, making the older men shoot him a puzzled look as he continued with a grin, “Who would’ve thought that it’ll take being Minnie’s grandpa for you to fight over the little things?” 

Sebastian scoffed and Michael rolled his eyes.

Sebastian then grinned, “Had I known that Michael was going to be this insufferable as an in-law, I simply wouldn’t have let you date Barbie—“

Michael’s eyes widened and he looked at Sebastian with a baffled look, making Sebastian and Mick laugh aloud. 

“Oh you two,” Michael muttered. “It’s no wonder why I’m Minna’s favourite.”

“Yeah, yeah, keep lying to yourself, Michael.”

“Yeah, whatever, Dad.”

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @topguncultleader

[nokonomi]

CreepyPasta OC. Yes guys I know I know I know I KNOW ANOTHER ONE WHY?!

So uh, meet Louise/Luise, and SHE IS NOT EMO GUYS TRUST ME! (She is emo lol)

Okay so Uhm she basically grew up in a part of a rich neighborhood honestly to say, spoiled kid, but she didn’t like the attention she was receiving. Her parents always abused her to be “pretty” her mother had said to her that “beauty matters, nothing else!”

I So she was basically ripped of her childhood and instead forced to be a child diva which she didn’t want to be. What did she want to be? All she wanted to be was a lawyer or medical surgeon. Her father passed away and it was just her and her mother, which her mother was very abusive and always despised her, shrugging off that her supposed “depressive state” is caused by her lack of confidence and beauty.

is beauty all that matters though? She doesn’t know. Know hated and bullied, she constantly roams through the hallways of her school, being shoved for who she is now. She had to take pills at the age of 13 for some disorders she had before (which I will name later) when her mother found out she had disorders, her mother basically said she was a nobody. Instead of listening to her, Luise fought back and tackled her mom, got spanked a few times, and showed her the pain she grew up with being pressured to be pretty. She doesn’t care about being pretty. All she wanted was to have loving parents who could eventually tell her that they loved her for who she is. But she never got that. Murdered her mom and escaped the house into the woods, leaving a trail of her mom’s blood. There she met the strange faceless figure of the man who had been haunting her. The Operator/The Slenderman.

“Louise. You do not have to live in constant pain of being pressured to be pretty. Come and live with us, and you shall be free.”

Louise was horrified, but had the horrible decision to either go back or stay with this monster. She obviously panicked and over thought, and ended up passing out. Slenderman took that as a yes and took her in to the mansion, where she met the rest of the residents. From 17 to 23 now. Been at the mansion for 5 years. Now a proxy that works for Slenderman.

now for some facts! who does she target? well she targets cruel and abusive parents who force their kids to be pretty. She calls it “freedom”

why did she do this? To escape the torture of being pressured and abused to be pretty. When she had pimples, her mom basically tried giving her surgery by her own hand. Which meant she gave her surgery without any doctors or anything. It didn’t disfigure her skin but it did leave a gash she hides on her left eye.

what’s one of her disorders? PTSD, and Dissociative Amnesia Disorder. She cannot remember her past anymore, but for some reason when someone calls her “pretty” it causes her to go into a panicked state. Maybe because of her ruined childhood, that is. So avoid calling her pretty. so she won’t suffer.

is she Emo? YES SHE IS EMO. well she’s planning on dying her to hair to a more 2000s style but I LITERALLY CANNOT FIND A HAIR COLOR TO GO WITH BLACK RAAA. BE FAIR GREEN OR PURPLE? what an Emo girl. so Kawaii.

who does she get along with most? Honestly she gets along with people who make sure to give her a safe distance. She doesn’t really talk to anybody except for Liam/Cody (X-Virus) She warms up to the guy. (HE’s MY FAVORITE) Cody and her talk about trauma they had, so they both traumadump onto each other. For right now she is not ready for a relationship until further notice, but she still has a little (BIG) crush on him. Toby? He’s fine. Jeff? she doesn’t like him. but she still talks to him. just doesn’t like his behavior or anything at all. hates whenever he tries to bring up “OMG YOU ARE SO PRETTY!”

sexuality? she’s dated a few girls and boys back to back in Highschool, maybe if they weren’t such bitches she wouldn’t have ended up like this in the first place. Considering dating Liam/Cody maybe? but her sexuality is bisexual/straight. she had a little crush on Nina but realized she was probably taken by Kate so yeah no.

Ooooo! she looks up to Liu as a father figure since he is much older than her. he’s like the father she’s never had before. begs for him to make her cereal in the morning but her lazy ass is too lazy.

[hyperfixated-gvf]

Make a Rich Woman Beg

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Reader

Warnings: Language, smut, hate sex, degradation, name-calling, slow burnish, power play/dynamics, boss/employee themes even if reader isn't technically Sam's boss, teasing, denial, tit-fucking, oral sex, fingering, some dom/sub themes if you wanted to read it that way

Words: 12.2k

Rating: Explicit

Summary: As the heiress of an exclusive country club, perhaps you were spoiled, and maybe you had a superiority complex, but so what? Everyone has their flaws. But your most recent flaw? The fact that some playboy pool boy refusing to worship the ground you walk on shouldn't bother you as much as it does and, unfortunately for him, you aren't one to accept anything other than exactly what you want.

18+ / MINORS DNI

(A.N.: Looking at the greta van fleet smut tag, Sam girls -- how does it feel to have three fics published in the past two days after being neglected for so long? There's too much twins, not enough rhythm section in my opinion, so I'm working on filling that gap when I can.)

~~~

“Do you think he does it on purpose?” Tara asked, dark sunglasses not giving away where she was looking, but her words pointedly specific.

Although, glasses or none, it didn’t take a genius to know who she was talking about. Amongst the long-legged, model-esque women lounging in sun chairs around the pool, there was another long-legged, model-esque person flaunting their youth and beauty. But that person was a he and he was not a rich loafer.

Oh no. He was the pool boy.

And everything he did certainly had a purpose, down to the way he brushed what you were sure were strategic wisps of hairs left out of his bun from his face. The way he wiped away the sweat from his throat by baring it unnecessarily long to show off his slender lines and sharp jaw. The way he leaned against the doorframe to the pool house as he observed all the beautiful women and loaded men like some 90’s flick love interest. The way he let his eyes droop and linger when some unfortunate soul caught them and gave that smug little smirk that you knew drove all the women here wild.

You snorted, flipping through your phone as a slight breeze caught your skin and pebbled it with goosebumps. There was enough of you on display that anything other than the sun gave you a chill, but you didn’t care. You’d grown up with most of the girls at the country club, the tennis moms all knew your parents’ names, and the gentlemen knew to keep their thoughts to themselves  – the club was exclusive enough, but if there was anyone outside the reach of outward judgment or pious scorn of the others, it would be you, heir to everything in its entirety because your parents owned the place.

You were in your element here – untouchable until you wanted to be touched, and then you had your pick of the litter, the latter something this man seemed to experience on the daily, as well. 

But that was no concern of yours. You were more dedicated to getting to your spa appointments on time than you were keeping up with who was fucking the pool boy that particular night. 

You didn’t look up from the article you were reading. “Of course he knows what he’s doing; he’s a little peacock,” you sighed, unaware that the reason she’d asked was because the man himself was coming around to your spot with a fresh pile of towels to deposit at the pickup station nearby. 

And even if you had noticed Tara’s emphasized cough, or her muttered, “Y/N,” you weren’t sure if you’d care enough to halt the blissfully casual in the way you talked about Sam. You knew his name, not because you’d ever had a full conversation with him, but because enough of the other women at the club could be overheard telling others about their nights moaning it that you knew it well enough by now. It was just one of the reasons you felt justified for the impression you had of him. 

Anyways, you weren’t exactly known for holding your tongue around these premises, so even if you’d known that Sam was within earshot, your acute observation wouldn’t have been any less true, and therefore, any less worthy to be said aloud. “He’s an attention-loving whore like every other pool boy has been in the history of this establishment. I don’t know where Rico finds them, honestly.”

“Y/N,” Tara hissed again, louder this time and followed by an embarrassed giggle, before pointing subtly to where Sam was fixing the last towel on the stack with a small shake to his head and a crook to his lips that was less than warm.

His brows picked up when he turned your way and saw you looking back to see what Tara had been pointing at, but you didn’t flinch at his wordless challenge to blush and splutter out an apology in an attempt to not look like the heartless, rich bitch stereotype that came free with a membership at this club.

Call you haughty, but you didn’t see yourself as those things. Sure, you knew what you wanted, and you knew what you had – humility just wasn’t one of those things, and you saw no wrong in knowing where you stood in a space. But pride? Pride surely was one of the things you knew you had, which was why the only answer Sam got to his cocky little power trip was a returned silent challenge: what are you gonna do about it?

His expression didn’t change, but there was an intentional hold of brazenness in his attitude as he swaggered up behind your chairs. “Good afternoon, ladies. I couldn’t help but overhear a conversation about little ol’ me. I didn’t catch it all, unfortunately,” he tsk-ed, patronizingly. His next words were directed at you, darkened slightly in an attempt to intimidate you. “Care to repeat it?”

Ah. A wordless challenge to a blatant one. “Let’s see,” you murmured back, unfazed by his imposition but not wanting to disrupt any of the other pool-goers with your tense little exchange. Not only were you unfazed, but you felt yourself become strangely excited at the potential confrontation. It was your fatal flaw – you could never just step away from a fight coming your way; you liked being right, and the sweet taste of victory was just as addictive on your tongue as money in the back of some people’s pockets was, as the filthy, secret orgies that the rich and famous partook in because they could. It made you feel powerful. “I believe I called you a peacock, and then an attention-loving whore just like all the other shirtless pool boys that come and go.”

Sam puckered out his bottom lip and simpered at you. “Oh, well isn’t that just cruel,” he bemoaned. Turning to Tara, his long middle finger just barely grazed her bare shoulder, and he leaned in, voice lowering to wring every last drop of pity from her in any way he could. “Is she mean to all the staff? Or is it just me?”

Tara huffed out a laugh, gaze trapped in the siren song of Sam’s. “Um…no, I think just you. But she’s not being mean on purpose, that’s just–”

“How you know she has a little crush?” Sam finished for her, regardless of what she was actually going to say. 

Tara looked a little put out, because it was obvious Sam was only toying with her as a means to whatever end he had in mind. It made you scoff scorchingly, turning back to your phone to signal that the time Sam had to waste from your day of wasting time had expired. “Don’t waste what little brainpower you have left in that skull – if I had a crush, you’d know it. Now, don’t you have a chair to wipe down?” you asked dismissively. “Maybe a mistress to tend to?”

Tara kept out of the conversation this time, not wanting to be brushed off again; this was clearly between you and Sam, and your indifference had quickly shifted to dislike once he put up a fight that had an edge, that wasn’t just the silly product of flirty banter.

“Nothing pressing,” Sam responded, deliberately refusing your expulsion. “I’ll leave, but I have to know something, first. I might be a peacock, sure.” His admittance held no shame; in fact, he seemed proud, almost, of his status. “My cocking around certainly hasn’t been a problem for most women; frankly, I don’t care what you think about my rotating door. But surely,” he murmured, leaning in closer under the guise of getting up, “there’s something that sets me apart from all the other attention-loving whores around here.”

Your throat burned with a reply, scathing and with salt to back up the wound you so sorely wanted to make, but Sam had taken a coward’s retreat, leaving you no time to reply with dignity as he ambled away. His face was smoothed back into that serene arrogance as he made his way back around the pool, winking at a few loungers as if he owned the place instead of worked for it. 

“Little fucker,” you sighed, reigning your spite back in. “Only small-dicked assholes leave an argument as unfinished as their women.” The pout was clear in your tone - you didn't like it when people ignored you when you didn't want them to.

Tara snorted, but shook her head. “He’s too hot for his own good, and you’re too stubborn. It would never work.”

Never work? What, an argument? You shot an arched brow towards your friend. “It doesn’t matter how hot he is, I’d dominate him in a debate.”

You were bluffing – it was obvious that the man had some wit to him, as much as the admission made your lips pucker in distaste. But you were still fairly certain that you’d come out on top if you ever had a verbal spar that he couldn’t run away from. 

Obviously, that wasn’t the answer Tara had been looking for, because she sighed as she laid back into the sun, soaking up the warmth. “Not in a debate, Y/N. Romantically. Carnally,” she teased, a small smile on her face as she knew you’d look over in offense at the prospect that you’d ever give the pool boy, who’d been around the block a few times, a pass to your bed. 

“Oh god,” you scoffed, “you can have him. Please. Just keep him far away from me.”

…

Seeing as the pool made you unreasonably grumpy for the next couple of days, you spent your time doing other things. Yoga, pottery, cooking lessons, the dog run – they were all just as satisfying as laying by the pool was. Plus, it meant you didn’t have to see Sam, who you’d been content to forget about until Tara showed up at your room one day for lunch looking disheveled. 

You didn’t pry, per se, but you made it clearly known that you wanted to know why she was in such a state, and eventually she’d come clean about having spent the night with the very man you claimed not to care about in a negative nor a positive way – he wasn’t worth it, after all.

But as she’d laid on your bed, recounting how many times he’d made her come, how he’d cleaned her up and taken a shower with her afterwards, how he’d invited her to spend the night with him instead of kicking her out of his quarters – a knot grew in the pit of your stomach, something ugly at the center of it.

Far from wanting to make her experience about you, you didn’t say anything at the time, only humming and interjecting with appropriate phrases every now and then. But you couldn’t help but think back to how he’d used Tara at the pool to get to you, and wonder if this was the same. Wondered if he knew she’d come and tell you everything in hopes you’d hear.

Now that, perhaps, was a more fitting behavior of the self-centeredness most expected from women of your status and inherited wealth. The narcissism. After all, Sam was a known player in a game you weren’t keen on participating in and, at the end of the day, the small tiff you’d had by the pool was the longest conversation you’d ever had with him. 

Perhaps he’d forgotten about you by the time he locked the pool gates that night, and perhaps his tryst with Tara so soon after was coincidence, or because her name was the next on his list. But you supposed being around it all your life tuned you into the intentional behavior of others  – your own mother was the one who’d told you, at the ripe age of 12, that sharks were still invisible to other sharks in the water, and that you always needed to keep your head swiveling. 

“All I can say is that…” she glanced over, knowing that you were gritting your teeth and bearing it for her benefit, but still finishing her thought anyways, “He definitely doesn’t leave his women unfinished.”

Your lips quirked up at Tara’s statement, and even though you had living evidence that he didn’t, still found every cell in your body unable to admit that perhaps Sam wasn’t as incapable as you wanted him to be. Not as much a bimbo, not as much a careless pretty-boy as he seemed.

You weren’t used to not getting what you wanted, but that was the problem with people, wasn’t it? Factors out of your control and reach.

“Well…” You chewed on your words for a moment, not wanting to spit them out without proper filtering. “I’m glad you got what you wanted, even if your partner was a bit…inferior.” Tara raised her brows, shocked at your blatant classism, but you just smiled. “Intellectually, of course.”

Him being the pool boy had nothing to do with your spite. Not really.

Well...if in part, only because you were used to being waiting on, hand and foot, and Sam’s disregard for the people who paid his bills spoke of an arrogance you couldn’t stand. But god, did you sound like a bitch, no matter which way you put it.

…

As fate would have it (and a bottle of wine, as well), you found yourself out walking later that night, down towards the pool in an unconscious search to finish your argument from days before. If you were bold and brash sober, with a little alcohol in you, it was only exacerbated.

Your path wasn’t a beeline to the pool; it was unconscious, after all, but after meandering the grounds for a while, you’d found yourself staring at the locked gate, so deep into a mental debate with a made-up Sam who was a stuttering mess of a douchebag that you didn’t hear the rustle of someone coming down the path until you were faced with the real Sam, who seared you with an unimpressed stare as you each waited for the other to speak. 

Finally, Sam broke the silence. “Is there something I can help you with or should I leave you to fantasize about me outside my place of work? How often do you do this?” he asked condescendingly, taking a key from his pocket and walking right past you.

While he words technically rang true, you certainly weren't fantasizing about him in any normal regard, at all. “The only thing I fantasize about when it comes to you is watching as security escorts you off the property.”

Sam whistled, appraising you again with that god-awful, lazy look. “That’s a bit of a leap from the last time we spoke. All because I peacock around the pool that I work at?” 

No. No, actually – it was because he was disrupting your flow, and you didn’t know why you were letting him. By all means, you should care much less than you really did about Sam’s presence. His very existence. But something about him wriggled under your skin and locked onto a part of your brain that only bled disdain and a poorly-managed superiority complex. 

“Peacock all you want, pool boy,” you said, shaking yourself out of your daze. “It makes no difference to me. I’m here because…I left something. My watch.”

You didn’t wear a watch. They were too clunky, no matter how expensive they were, and if you did have one, the pool would be the last place you would wear it. Why would you want a wrist-strap tan line?

Sam apparently didn’t pick up on it, though, because he sighed and motioned you in. The deck was dark save a couple of lamps that served as security, and Sam took another key and unlocked the office door. “Any other night, you’d have been waiting until the sun came up again,” he warned, shuffling a few things around on the desk until he pocketed a slip of plastic. “You’re lucky I left my meal card here. Lost and found is in the bottom drawer.”

You eyed him, and he nodded to the door by his shins, making no move to open it. He did, however, stare at you as you leaned down to get your hand on the handle, tugging before you felt the resistance of a lock. You huffed, righting yourself and glaring at the man. “It’s locked.”

He nodded. “I know. I was the one who locked it.”

“Then why did you tell me to open it if you knew it was locked?” Everything he did seemed to have the sole intention to get you to act as he wanted you to, and you hated being played. This whole situation was stupid, and you would consider asking your parents to send you somewhere else for a few weeks to right yourself where Sam had lopped off your ability to be level-headed if that wouldn’t imply that Sam had run you off of your own pitch.

Sam crossed his arms and took a step forward, but you didn’t let him push you around this time, so you were stuck staring him down as he got closer. “Because I know you didn’t leave your made-up watch here.” Shit. He had noticed. “Why were you really here, Y/N? It’s just you and me here,” he cooed, eyes alight with mischief. “Tell me. Why do you hate me so much? What is it about me that makes you squirm?”

God, you wished you could tell him, but you didn’t know the answer. Perhaps if you looked deep enough, you could find it, but that wasn’t on your bucket list. The way he seemed so cock-sure of himself and what he mistook as a raging playground crush really ground your gears, and you pushed him away a bit with a finger on his bony chest. “Please,” you murmured, keeping your eyes firmly locked on his, “I have more important things to do than the trampy pool boy. Don’t flatter yourself.” The denial of the accusation was weak, at best. For all that you’d told Tara that you’d best Sam, you seemed to have lost your words now that you were alone.

Sam searched your face for any tell of a lie, and when he found none, he pulled back, smooth façade back into place. “I don’t think you know why you're here.” 

Bullseye, and you hated it.

“Oh, I do," you disagreed, contrary to you own inner confusion. "It's because I know you think that I’m a rich, spoiled, Daddy's girl,” you said, keeping his attention and prompting him to shrug in agreement. “I know you think we’re all just wastes of space in society. I see the way you use and discard the women here, and I'm here because I don’t want to be one of them.”

Sam’s face twisted into something unpleasant. “Then don’t be. I don’t force anyone to sleep with me, god–”

You cut him off with a hand. “I know,” you said, quieter. “I just hate that part of me is still interested.”

The confession discredited everything you'd just said, and you stopped in your tracks, horrified and entirely surprised that those words had come from your lips.

Once he knew he wasn’t being accused of anything nonconsensual, Sam relaxed again, rolling his tongue in his mouth as if your semi-admittance of wanting him was a 5-star meal, and he leaned against the sliver of wall between the doorframe and the desk. “I won’t tell,” he smirked, whispering conspiratorially.

“No.” You shut down the prospect immediately. You didn’t know where your little confession had come from, or why you were telling Sam, who happened to be the object of your ‘should I, shant I.’ Deeply in denial, you wish the little sprout of truth would just bury itself in the ground again, but it had already been seen. “I’m not one of your games.”

Sam let a small, smug smirk crawl up the corners of his mouth. “The women here like games. Tennis, BINGO, mini golf, poker – you name it. And they like it when I play with them, too.” He fixed you with a steady gaze, challenging you to argue what he was about to say next. “And you are exactly like all the other women here.

Your chest tightened, and you got a sick sense of arousal from the casual way he spoke about the women you regularly dined with, the ones you knew by name. What was wrong with you? Just a few days ago, you’d wanted nothing but to get Sam alone so that you could give him a piece of your mind, and now you were letting him stand on his self-appointed pedestal and look down on you like he had since he acknowledged you existence.

You wondered if he knew who you were, but you figured that would reveal itself in time, when you eventually did slip it into conversation. If he fixed up that problem of an attitude, all would be righted. If he didn't, then you didn't know what you'd do. That would be a brand-new scenario for you.

“Did you sleep with Tara to make a point?" you asked instead, not intending to drop that bomb yet. "Was her piece in your game intentional or just another coincidental pawn?”

With a quirk of his brows, Sam scoffed. “Everything’s always about you, isn’t it?”

You shook your head, running your tongue across your teeth. “Not everything," you denied. Just most things. Around here, at least, they could be. "But I think you’re selfish, and petty, and egotistic enough to make an exception when it comes to women who don’t fall at your feet just to get a taste of something different from their usual menu.”

Sam toed the door open further from where it had crept in with a draft. “What was it that you said,” he asked, mulling it over facetiously. “Oh, right. Don’t flatter yourself. Your friend came to my door. She knocked last night because she’d asked someone for my room number, and then she told me that she wanted me to fuck her, so I did,” he told you simply. “It had nothing to do with you. You were never a thought in the room.”

Again, hearing about his conquest of yet another woman at the club, your stomach clenched, and a deeply repressed part of your brain wanted to play into the hot pool boy, rich employer trope, even if you weren’t technically his employer. Not yet, at least. Soon, though, you intended to become more active in shadowing your parents. Perhaps you could start by fixing this staffing issue.

“That’s not how she told it.”

“Of course that’s not how she told it,” he scoffed, lips curling. “Why would she tell you about how she begged for it? About how she showered me with compliments and pulled my hair and about how wet she was when I fingered the fuck out of her or about how she told me how well my cock filled her up–”

“Shut up,” you snapped, face reddening. “Stop trying to make this about something it’s not. If you want to recount everything that happened, invest in a diary.”

You weren't jealous. That wasn't it, if that was the angle he was playing.

But Sam wouldn’t stop, and with each act he let out of his mouth, he took a step towards you. “Why would she tell that to someone as judgemental, snobby, and condescending as you–”

But hell no. Absolutely not. In no world would Sam the pool boy get away with calling anyone condescending with the medals he held for pretentious behavior displayed towards others. “Fuck you, calling the kettle black,” you spat, temper flaring.

But Sam met you halfway, pointing an accusing finger in your direction, “It takes one to know one, so don’t even try to go there.” 

He was insufferable. Everything about him made you want to rip your hair out and swan dive into the shallow end of the pool, but you simultaneously wanted to fuck him, and it was tearing you in two and giving you indigestion.

“How anyone can stand you is a mystery to me,” you huffed, patting your pockets to make sure you had everything, even though you’d never put anything down in the first place, and fully intended on stalking out, away from Sam, who was still lingering unnecessarily close.

He scoffed. “You’re the one who came here without knowing why. Freud, anyone?” 

“Don’t throw Freud in my face.” You needed to leave. Needed to gain a little clarity, to ruminate on these new discoveries about yourself. Or, at least address it without the scent of sunscreen and saltwater in your nose and an unbuttoned shirt staring you in the face. “I think we’re done here.”

“I’m not sure why we were here in the first place.”

He watched with guarded eyes as your gaze flitted towards the open door, and then they dipped further down your face when you hesitated, body turned towards him but every line still aggressive and confrontational. “Then you won’t mind locking up after you leave after me.”

“Fine. That’s my job.”

“Fine. Good. I’m glad you know your place.” 

“The only place I have is inside every little friend you have here that isn’t as much of a stuck up bitch as you are.” 

Nearly sharing breath at this point, your chest heaved slightly as you tried to take in more air, convinced that he would kiss you right then and fuck you like he had the others without you having to admit that you wanted him to at all. But your tongue was still sharp, even if your senses had been dulled until Sam was the laser focus of them all. “That’s none of my business; I hope you have fun being the neighborhood bicycle.”

“I will,” he said with a patronizing smile, even if it didn’t match the way he leaned in even closer. “I always do.” With a tensed jaw and a grind of his teeth, Sam squeezed his eyes shut and let out a rough breath that fanned across your face. You shifted on your feet, and your thigh grazed the front of his shorts.

He was hard, but you didn’t say anything about it. You couldn’t say anything at all, at the moment, too close to something to want to ruin it. Everything about his body communicated that the tension between the two of you would be resolved.

The next step between the two of you was teetering on the edge of realization, but Sam met your eyes, pupils blown out and lids hooded, but shook his head. “No.”

His denial of the unspoken twisted your gut and, too proud to give him what he wanted, you shrugged as if it was no skin off your nose and breezed out of the office without another word. 

You knew getting the last word was not always the way to win an argument, so you let his petty rejection stretch out behind you and dissipate into the darkening sky, beautiful in the sunset. Not that you noticed. Needing something – anything, to get your mind off of Sam and the embarrassing presence of wetness being your legs, you stopped a little further down the path, right near where it split to go towards the stables, and tipped your head back to the sky, letting out a big sigh filled by, “Fuck.”

You couldn’t deny it anymore – you wanted him. You wanted him, and you knew what he wanted. He wanted you to beg. To breakdown and ask. But you very rarely had to ask for what you wanted around here, and you weren’t going to start now for an asshat like Sam.

That’s what you told yourself as you met your parents for a late dinner. 

That’s what you told yourself as you wound down with a personal masseuse. 

That’s what you told yourself as your fingers crept down your body as you soaked in your bathtub, and it’s what you told yourself even after you accidentally splashed an armful of water onto the tile with how hard you came thinking about him. And after you grew frustrated when your orgasm didn’t satisfy the throb in your center. 

But it certainly wasn’t what you told yourself when you found your way to the front desk and begrudgingly asked for Sam’s room number, not an eyebrow raised your way because of your status. Had it been any other woman, more care would be taken in who that information was dealt out to, but not for you.

However, even when you had the information, you found yourself hesitating outside his door, stuck in a loop of want and pride. It took all of one very small thump as you rested your forehead on the wood to decide that one night was not worth your dignity. In fact, you’d been about to turn and leave when the door opened on its own and Sam stood in the frame, shirtless, hands braced on either post, and fixed you with a smug expression that ticked his features up.

Before he could get a word out, you spit, “I was just leaving.”

“After standing outside my door for the past 5 minutes?” Dammit – just what didn’t this man know? “You seem to end up in my space more than what one can call coincidentally.” When you didn’t leave, nor did you speak. Because he was right. Perhaps Freud did have a place in the conversation. Sam crooked a brow. “Well…if you’re gonna stand there and just…not leave, come in, I guess.”

There was no internal debate this time and, silently, you stepped into his room. You realized after seeing his pajama pants and a towel laid out on his bed that he must have been about to shower, and that was further cemented when he shucked his pants off, leaving only his boxers, and then grabbed everything from his bed, casting an amused glance in your direction. “I’m not stopping for you,” he said flippantly before heading to the bathroom and leaving the door open.

Perhaps you shouldn’t have been surprised at his bold behavior anymore, but you still instinctively looked away when his pants came off. You weren’t sure if either of you really knew what you were doing or what was happening but, the door seemed like an invitation and though you didn’t plan on taking another shower today, it beckoned you towards the bathroom.

The small room was quickly filling with steam and, through the mirror, you caught Sam’s bare ass as he climbed into the shower cubicle, the glass around it steamed just so that you could only make out the blurry outline of the naked man. 

You were a voyeur here, not having asked to watch, but having been invited, and you took the opportunity to receive anything that Sam gave up without you having to say one word to him. If you opened up your lips, you weren’t sure if what came out would properly keep your reputation, and you’d be damned before the pool boy gained one inch in this war you were waging.

But oh, you were sorely tempted to when his reflection in the mirror lifted a hand and intentionally wiped away a spot near his hips, so that there was a clear view to how he reached between his legs and sucked in a breath, hand wrapped around his cock as the other planted itself on the wall. 

Without consciously telling your body to, you moved further into the room, around to a small bit of space that separated the toilet and the sink, where you dug your nails in and watched as Sam’s elbow moved back and forth, deep breaths filled with steam barely audible over the sound of running water. 

The head of his cock peeked out from his fist every time he squeezed down at the base, and he grunted when he brushed his thumb over the tip on the way up, feet shifting as his hips bucked into the sensation. “Jesus,” he grunted, head hanging lower than his braced arm, looking directly where he was touching himself. Or, perhaps he was stealing side-eyed glances at you which, after hearing him groan high in his throat with a murmured, “Oh, god…shit,” escaping from his lips, was likely the more probable answer. Although with his own narcissistic habits, perhaps he liked the view. Auto-eroticism or something.

Regardless, your own hand had snuck down again, and you were helpless in your search for the same pleasure Sam was giving himself, dragging the pads of your fingers through the slick mess down there, clit singing with pleasure as you circled it until you felt like your knees were going to give out.

Just a few minutes later, Sam gasped and moved his hand faster, fist flying across his dick as he tilted his head back. “Holy shit – holy fuck, ah– ahh,” he moaned, a hard ‘guh’ sound finishing out his syllables as he sucked in air. He tugged at his cock sporadically, and you could only imagine the spurts of come he stroked out of himself hitting the wet tile and washing down the drain immediately, all evidence washed away. 

The high whimper that escaped your throat as you came as well, clutching the edge of the sink and rubbing furiously at the little bundle of nerves under your fingers while you wished you had something to clench around as your walls contracted, seemed loud in the silence that followed Sam’s orgasm, and he groaned a bit as he listened.

Without washing his hair or soaping his body, Sam shut the water off and squeezed the excess out of his hair quickly, sliding the door open and locking eyes with you as he closed in. You were backed against the unforgiving line of the counter, your hand still tucked into the waistband of your pants as you came down, but as Sam closed the space between you at a lightning pace, you jerked it out.

That one small movement brought the skin of your knuckles scraping against his cock due to how close he was, and he gritted out a strangled sound at the overstimulation, the product of his own action. “You drive me absolutely insane,” he huffed into your face. He didn’t specify if it was in a good way or in a bad one.

“Ditto,” you breathed. The fingertips that had just been tucked in the warmth of your cunt grazed his stomach until he grabbed your wrist and lifted those digits to his mouth, staring you down as he flattened his tongue, dragged it up, and then encased the entirety of your middle and ring fingers in his mouth, suctioning and letting his tongue dance around each knuckle.

When he popped them out of his mouth, he said, “Say it.” He knew you were aware of what he wanted, so there was no need to waste words on asking you specifically to lower yourself down to where he wanted you and beg him to fuck you.

You shook your head.

“You have to ask for anything you get from me,” he said in response, shaking his head. “You get everything for free, but not from me.”

Since he had no qualms in taking what he wanted, though, he flexed his hips and ground his quickly-recovering dick across the fabric of the sweats you’d thrown on for the walk over. Perhaps it felt better than he’d anticipated, or maybe he really was just some hyper-sexual young adult, but as he continued his slow thrusts against you, he readjusted and seemed to lose himself in the feeling, eyes fluttering when you pushed your thigh forward for him to grind against harder.

This was fine. You didn’t mind having the control.

“Come on, Sam,” you murmured, pressing your palm into the small of his back to scoot him closer. “You know I won’t ask you. But you can hump my leg like a bitch in heat however long you want.”

He let out a shuddery breath and his dick jumped at your words, but he pulled away quickly regardless, still unwilling to take your shit. “Just because it seems like you want that too – no thanks.” And then he turned, newly hard and seeking touch, and grabbed his pajamas from where they were laid on the closed toilet seat. 

You took a deep, frustrated breath in, but followed him out into the main room again, crossing your arms and pouting when you saw he’d already gotten the material up his body - even if it tented out - and was settling into the mattress on top of the blankets. You were sick and tired of waiting for him to give you what you wanted, so you didn’t stop following him at the edge of the bed, and instead climbed on and then up his body.

Now, technically, you were on your knees but, since Sam was on his back, you counted the positions as canceled out when it came to power dynamics, and that was something you were very aware of here, in Sam’s space.

In this position, it would have been easy to make a connection where you both wanted it, but Sam didn’t let your hips lower enough to create any friction for you or for him. “Stubborn,” he muttered.

“Bull-headed,” you replied, and then slithered out of his grasp. He let you, and propped himself up on an arm to watch as came face-to-face with his covered erection. Knowing that he wouldn’t let you touch him directly, you pushed your luck and instead raked your nails down his stomach and across his happy trail, veering off afterwards to sink them into the meat of his thighs.

His abdomen tensed and flexed as you looked up at him from under your lashes, but still, he didn’t give in to your silent question and said, “Use your words. Ask me so that I can hear you say, ‘Sam, please let me suck your cock’ and you can give me all the head you want.” 

“That’s a little backwards,” you remarked, fingers still crawling across his legs. “I’ve got dildos I can suck on if I wanted something in my mouth. You don’t have anything I don’t already own.”

Sam’s eyes darkened as he gazed down at you, flicking a strand of hair away from your forehead. “You’d just love to own me, wouldn’t you? Then you wouldn’t have to ask to use your toys, hmm?”

His words sent a lightning bolt of arousal through you, and your hips chased friction without your say-so, but the mattress was too flat to give you any relief. “One of these days I’ll own this place, then what?” you asked breathlessly. Obviously, you didn’t mean a single word of what you said – you weren’t into illegal business or gross misconduct between an employer and employee, but he’d opened a Pandora’s Box you weren’t even aware you housed in your body.

“I’ll find another hoity-toity club to fuck my way through. Got a job here, it was easy enough.”

At the mention of his activities, you squeezed his hips, hard. You hoped you’d leave bruises, but Sam didn’t react other than a flex of his ass, just out of reach. “Oh please,” you mocked, darting down to steal a lap of your tongue against his skin, “everyone knows you and the golf caddy get high on the greens every night. What is he, your best friend? He’s been around longer than you, I know that. He got you this job, didn’t he?”

Sam blinked down at you, taken aback for a moment. Ha. Finally, a leg to play up. “Shut up,” he spit, very little heat behind the words. You wouldn’t expect anything else – you don’t know if you’d go through with this if the two of you didn’t still fight just for the sake of the adrenaline and excitement that came with it. “You don’t know shit about me.”

“Uh oh,” you clucked, resting your chin on his belly button, just so that your throat would be pressed against his cock. You felt every twitch and jump, as well as his initial bump up into you, and hoped that he felt the vibration of every word that came from your mouth. “It seems like someone doesn’t like it when his women aren’t as vapid as they let on.” 

What could you say – you took an interest in psychology when your parents began forming you into their perfect successor, and Daddy had immediately hired a private tutor for you some years ago so that you could study it alongside business. And Sam was an open textbook – he was just like you: intelligent, privileged, perfectly satisfied with being handed things on a silver platter but never able to turn away from a challenge. You might as well have been reading words straight off of the page. 

“Just because you looked at my file doesn’t mean you aren’t the same dumb bitch you were before.”

His words stung, but in the best way. In a way that stoked the fire of your temper. Angry sex was superior, and you could feel all your emotions growing hotter, more volatile, until they were simmering just below boiling point. “Maybe I shoulda fucked him instead. Daddy always did say he liked the curly-haired caddy. Can’t see why he’d waste his time on someone like you.”

“Danny wouldn’t glance in your direction, Y/N. He’s too good for you. I wouldn’t let him.” 

It was the first time your name had painted his lips, and you smiled at the use. So he did know who you were all this time. “And you aren’t?”

Sam cocked his head. “Why do you think I haven’t touched that soaked pussy that I know you’re dying to get your fingers on again? Tell me,” he asked, eyes burrowing into you, “was that the first time you’ve played with yourself thinking about me?” You didn’t hesitate giving a small, coy shake of your head. “Have you fucked yourself with that dildo you say you own wishing it were mine?”

This time you shrugged. “Maybe. I’m about to go get it, though, since you’re the worst guy I’ve ever been in bed with. Hell, maybe I’ll just knock on one of your neighbors’ doors, see if they think they’re too good for me or not.” To really hammer your point home, you stretched back into a downward dog pose, letting your face gently drag across his cock, and then lifted onto your knees, not touching him at all. “I’ll let them fuck me. I’ll beg them to. I’ll gag on their cock, and I’ll let them put their tongue anywhere they want to. I’ll take off my shirt,” you said breathily, grabbing one breast in your hand and moaning when you gently pinched your nipple through your shirt, “and maybe, if they beg me extra pretty, I’ll get down on my knees and put their dick between my tits. Fuck, Sam – you can imagine how hot that’ll be, right? How much your neighbors will like that?”

Sam looked up at you as he reached down to palm himself through his pants, trying not to look as affected as you knew he was. “You haven’t seen anything yet,” he promised, but he didn’t make any effort to move. You knew he wouldn’t be able to end the night without some sort of closure., though. “And if you leave right now, you never will.”

A promise and a threat, all wrapped up in one package that was still being withheld from you.

“Well, I’d make sure you heard, so at least you’d have that,” you simpered, shooting and exaggerated frown his way and swallowing harshly. “All alone in your room, listening to some other staff member get a tit-job because you were too dumb to know what I wanted. That’s a sad reality.” 

Sam’s breath quickened and he took his hand away from his cock in a show of great restraint, instead sitting up so that his head was level with your chest. His big brown eyes looked up at you sweetly, if analytically, and you were suspicious of his change in attitude. “You’re really not gonna ask on your own?” 

Without a word, you shook your head. No. You weren’t. 

He seemed to mull things over in his head before taking in a deep, defeated breath. “Then I guess…I surrender,” he sighed, pressing a kiss to your clavicle. “I can’t take it anymore, Y/N, you win just…touch me, and let me touch you. I’m too hard to fight you right now.”

His words were muffled in your skin, and you placed your hand on the back of his head, the damp strands tangling between your fingers. You didn’t trust him, but the relief was too great to push him away.

He sucked his way up your throat, pressing a kiss to your fluttering pulse before coming to rest nose-to-nose. “I don’t think you’ve given up at all,” you said, running a finger underneath his waistband. “I’m onto you.”

“That’s right,” Sam nodded, nudging your face with his. “I want you on me. Just for tonight, just so that we can both get what we want, and then we can go back to hating each other.” He closed the gap, and finally, after waiting for longer than you were used to, kissed you.

You noticed his redirection and deflection straight away, but the taste of his tongue was a more pressing matter at hand, so you let him pull you in closer, taking kiss after desperate kiss, and paw you with his big hands. It was all pouring in, everything you wanted, and insofar, you hadn’t had to ask for it, so you let him continue.

Your shirt came off, and Sam groaned when saw your bare breasts, unhindered by a bra. Immediately, he got to worshiping them, holding them up to his mouth so that he could ravenously suck on them, letting your nipples pass through his lips before gathering them in his mouth again, one after the other, until he pressed your tits together and buried his face in them. “Will you still let me fuck them, Y/N? Please?” he begged, dragging his tongue up your chest. “God, you made me so hard talking about it. I didn’t want to come, but I was so close and you weren’t even touching me.”

He sounded so desperate. So genuine, that you figured you’d still have the power over his pleasure and gave in, saying, “Yeah. You can fuck my tits, Sam, since you asked so nicely.”

Because the floor was uncomfortable, you just lowered yourself, letting your chin catch on his skin as you descended, and he groaned at the visual, immediately backing off when you gathered his wrists in your hands and pushed them away as he tried to take his pants off himself. Instead, you insisted on being the one to hook your fingers into the plaid and tug until it pooled at his feet, and then surprised him by dipping down and taking his tip in your mouth, holding it on your tongue as you suckled lightly.

“Oh fuck!” he cried out, hand flying to the back of your head. “Shit, Y/N, you can’t do that to me. I have a reputation to maintain.”

You let him slip out of your mouth and smiled sweetly. “You didn’t seem to care about my reputation when you asked me to beg for what I wanted.”

Sam licked his lips and swallowed. “And I’m regretting that now,” he assured you.

Humming in satisfaction, you gave him one more lick, then retrieved the lube from where Sam directed you, clicking the cap open before letting Sam watch as you drizzled it between your breasts, his Adam’s apple bobbing and eyes never blinking. “Come here, Sam,” you instructed, manhandling him by his thighs forward. The mattress gave under his feet, and you felt the flex of his legs to keep himself upright. “Now, say please.”

You thought that he might say no for a second, but he just rolled his shoulders and put his bottom lip out. “Please?” he inquired. He couldn’t contain the rock forward into friction as soon as you laid his dick against your sternum, gently cupping your breasts and pushing them together around it and giving him a nod to signal that he was okay to start moving.

Since you were too far away to hold onto at any point on your body other than your head, as he began thrusting into the pillowy weight of your tits, he made do, even bending at the knees to get a better angle and a more anchored hold.

“Feel good, Sammy?” you asked quietly. You weren’t getting any stimulation from this, but watching the expressions of pleasure washing across Sam’s face as he tried to keep the wanton noises in was enough for now. Power. You were getting your pleasure from power.

He nodded, trying to wet his dry lips as his hips moved on their own accord, the unstable footing he had on the mattress throwing off any rhythm he established. Still, his face screwed up as he pitched up, breath uneven. “Yeah, I– it’s so good, Y/N,” he whined, a whole different person than the one who refused to give into you just a little bit ago. He let out a breathy chuckle. “They’re obviously not just for show. And I’ve watched you show them off, every fucking day you’re laid out in that little swimsuit of yours.”

It gave you an inordinate amount of pleasure to know that he’d noticed you and that he wasn’t as impervious to your presence as he’d been leading you to believe. As a reward for his little slip of honesty, you ducked and stuck out your tongue, the tip of his cock hitting the slick muscle each time it peeked out from in-between the tops of your breasts. And Sam faltered, staying buried in the warm cocoon of skin as he shifted forward and tried to get more of your tongue on his dick. 

It was obvious he was getting close with the small shake of his legs, trying to hold Sam’s tall figure up on shaky ground while he was chasing pleasure, so you let go of your tits, freeing his cock, and Sam protested. “Wait, just– just a little more, please,” he asked, gently guiding you onto your back before stripping off the rest of your clothes and taking your hands to resume the position laying down. “Like this,” he said before he straddled your chest and guided his dick back to the warm, slick channel it made, eyes closing and mouth falling open as he rode you. “Good god, save me,” he pled, back where he wanted to be. “Just like this.”

From here, you had a better view of the faces he made, and the ripple of subtle muscle under tanned skin as he moved his body. He lifted his hands to grasp the top of the headboard, using it to steady himself as he put more force into the punch of his hips, at the mercy your control over how tightly you pressed your breasts together. You could give him a nice, tight grip, or you could tease him, relaxing your hands and watching as he chased a barely-there friction. God, you felt drunk off of it. 

The drag of his balls against the top of your stomach along with the sensation of each ridge on his cock against your skin made you squirm, and you were ready to move on, having sufficiently allowed Sam to fulfill his little fantasy that you’d put in his head. 

Even though he made a weak objection when you let your breasts go slack and fall away with gravity, he didn’t fight you when you pushed his hips away so that you were eye-to-eye once more. However, he also didn’t let you get a word in before he resumed his writhe, his cock brushing against your pubic hair until he readjusted so that he was in-between your thighs, and increased the pressure of his grind until he was able to nestle himself against your soft, warm, wet core, your lips cradling him as he collected dewey slick with each thrust. 

Now that he was catching your clit with each shift, you craved him more than ever. He was so close, and if he pulled back just a bit, and angled himself just so, he could slip inside your body and show you what the fuss was about.

But first, you needed to get him in a condom. In fact, you probably shouldn’t have let him near you without one, knowing how many women he’d fucked over the course of his employment. “Condom, Sam. Who knows if I’m the first girl you’ve fucked even today, little slut.”

Sam let out a displeased whine, but he held you tighter, and you knew he was still getting off on the animosity. He pulled away, though, knowing you were right, and went right back to what he’d been doing once any excess lube had been wiped away and the latex had been rolled on. Lips at your neck, he licked and sucked a mark into you, grunting as he worked up to your lips again. “Let me taste you,” he pleaded. “I know you’ve been so worked up today. I’ll make you come, princess, I promise.”

You fisted his hair and he gasped out a curse, lashes fluttering. “Show me what that tongue of yours can do besides nettle the hell out of people, then.”

Sam groaned at your acquiescence and immediately trekked down your body, pausing to suck each tit into his mouth as if in thanks for providing a soft place to land for a while, and then continued down, physically wrapping your thighs around his ears so that there was no space left for him to breath.

“Sam,” you chuckled, genuinely amused. “We’re not gonna fuck if you suffocate yourself.”

As if it was the most irritating thing in the world, Sam groaned and reluctantly let you spread your legs wider so that he could reach his final destination. “Mmmm,” he hummed, flicking his tongue out to catch the crease where your thigh met your pelvis. With a deep breath in through his nose, he kissed your lips softly, bringing his gaze to look up at you. “You smell delicious. Let’s see how wet you really are.”

Watching as he spread you apart and never breaking eye contact until he dipped below the line of your stomach, the tip of his tongue running from your entrance to your clit and then down again, tracing a map of each nerve that lit you up and made your legs twitch. “Oh god,” you gasped, relishing in the feeling. You could tell he was just warming up.

Once he was more familiar with what made you tick, he gave you everything, fitting his top lip against the very top of your cleft and letting it rest there as he settled in for the long run, tongue laving hot pressure against your clit, softer than your fingers, more human than a vibrator.

He flicked and soothed, drew and stayed still for you to grind against his tongue, and at times he brought his teeth and lips up, chin grazing the wet skin below as he rapidly used his whole to complete a lick, suck, teeth, lip combo, each round allowing explicit noises to escape, from his own grunts and gasps to the suction and wet connection between your cunt and his mouth. And when he added his fingers, pressing one in but immediately following it with another, your stomach clenched and your back had arched up a bit, a curse and a multitude of other noises leaving the barrier of your lips to let Sam know that what he was doing was working. “That’s it, Sam,” you nodded as he curved his calloused fingers up. “Good. Right there. Shit, yes,” you sighed, sinking into the pleasure. 

With his mouth dutifully attached to your clit, he was in no state to speak, and when he disconnected from you, he followed it up with a series of kisses and undulations that let you feel a spectrum of pleasure only your toys gave you.

Seeing as you’d already come two times prior, you didn’t know how tired your body would be after your next, so you gave him a short tug on his locks and watched as his hips twitched in time with it. “Alright, enough.”

Sam looked up, mouth wet as he ran his tongue around the perimeter of it. “Already?” he grinned.

You rolled your eyes but gave him a small smile, pulling him up and allowing him to replace his mouth with his cock, sighing in relief when he resumed the position he’d been in before his meal, all of him pressed against all of you with a small rock to stave off the edge of desperation.

“Come on, you said I hadn’t seen anything yet. Where’s the bravado? Where’s the bedroom master that I’ve been hearing about?” you taunted in his ear, your words offset by the way you swiveled your hips and attempted to get him where you needed him to be. “Or was that it?”

He didn’t answer you, only reached down and grasped his cock, positioning himself at your entrance so that all he had to do was push.

But he didn’t.

The lips against your throat shifted into a grin that you couldn’t see, but could feel, and you groaned instantly, knowing that you’d been lulled into a false sense of security. You knew he'd been up to something. “Oh, you conniving little–”

Sam took your lip between his teeth and bit down. No blood was drawn, but the force was enough to make it swell and indent the shape of his front two teeth. It was effective in making the insult shrivel up and die, and Sam used his hand to run his tip up and down your pussy, never giving you anything more. “We’re playing chess, darling,” he murmured in your ear. “You said it yourself – you didn’t trust me. Were my pawns that convincing?”

Yes, they were. His desperation, his compliance, his constant feed into your power complex. But you’d played chess before – it wasn’t your favorite game, but you could hold your own. Your mother was a chess champion, though, and she’d always told you the same thing–

Never take your eyes off the Queen.

Sam paused altogether, not inside of you, but pushing so that you could feel the resistance. “We’re gonna stay here for as long as it takes for you to make a decision,” he whispered in your ear, gloating, but calm at the same time. He was back in the driver's seat of his own actions, and he was trying to reach over to commandeer the wheel of yours, as well. “Say stop, and I’ll get off. You can leave.”

“Don’t tell me there’s only one other option,” you said, your bad feeling that there was unfortunately just one way to proceed only complemented by Sam’s dark chuckle. 

“You’re really not that dumb. All the time, at least,” he scorned. “The only option to get what you want is to ask for it. And, since you wanted to lord yourself over me so badly earlier, let me return the favor: you’ll have to ask for it, and don’t forget to say please.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, already dreading what was coming. But there was no way you were going to tell him to stop – not with his dick poised so intimately against you. “Sam,” you said, and he gazed down at you, raised eyebrows as if he was interested and curious about what you had to say. “Sam. I want you to fuck me.” He said nothing, only looked at you expectantly. “Please,” you tacked on, teeth clenched and nose wrinkling at the word.

“But I already did, Y/N,” he tsk-ed. “I finger fucked you, I fucked you with my tongue – you really are just a spoiled heiress, aren’t you? You have so much, you’ll have to be more specific.”

You pinched him, and for your efforts, he reared back and gripped each wrist in his fingers, away from his body and against the bed. You had no other option now than to finally give in. To lose the ground you’d so staunchly defended up until now. “Fucker,” you hissed. “God, I hate you so much. I want you to fuck me, Sam. What else do you want?” you asked, temper tantrum rising up in this rare occasion that you had to do something you didn’t want to. “I want your cock, okay? I wanna feel you for days, and I want you to be so fucking deep inside me that you think about how well you fucked the owners’ daughter everytime you even so much as look in the direction of another woman for the next week.”

Sam seemed to be savoring the satisfaction of your words, but he still looked at you with a cheeky grin. “And?”

“Fuck you,” you said venomously. “Please.”

“Good answer,” he grinned, letting go of your wrists and gathering your knees in the crook of his elbows. 

After that, he let go of his restraint and stopped playing a role, sucking in breath and letting it out on a grunt as he slid home, low mutterings seeping from his lips as he knee-walked forward and bent you back until the backs of your thighs were skin-to-skin with the front of his. Only then did he pull his hips back and jackhammer them back in, giving you time to adjust before he reached in further with his fingers and pressed them into your inner thighs. 

With his proximity, there was a small slap when his hips met yours, but the soundtrack of the evening otherwise was made up of slick, wet noises and the posts of his bed knocking against the wall every so often.

And the steady back and forth stream of curses and unintelligible noises from you both. Not to forget those.

He kept pummeling into you, watching you bare your teeth, feral with the ecstasy of resolution after such a long build-up. You were glad you hated him. Glad he hated you. It all made this so much better, and Sam seemed hell-bent on keeping the curses to his name (and now his dick) spewing from your mouth.

“That’s it, princess, tell me how much you hate me. How much you hate the fact that I’m the best lay at this godforsaken club.”

“No,” you gasped. “You still aren’t shit, pool boy.”

He let go of one of your legs, roughly turning you on your side and straddling one leg, slotting himself between like a tetris puzzle piece. “God, I love it when you talk dirty to me,” he huffed. “Bitch.”

“Bastard.”

He groaned, your cunt tightening around him and making him stutter. “You’re lucky you're the daughter of people who actually did something with their money,” he seethed, not actually angry but his hips colliding with yours as if he was. “I’d love to see you somewhere where no one gave a fuck about who you were. See how you do in the real world.”

Again, Sam flipped you over, his thrust of re-entry pushing your face into the pillows. “Complaining as a grown-ass man who cleans a pool for a living and gets paid generously for it is– oh fuck, oh god–” you gasped, orgasm building as Sam’s fingers sloppily rubbed fast, tight circles around your clit, “-bad taste,” you finished.

Sam hitched your hips up more, trying to get even closer to you than what was physically possible, already buried balls-deep inside you. “For once in your life, maybe you’re right,” he grunted, pressing his palm into your back and arching it until you moaned, the tip of his cock catching your g-spot. He held you down in that position and gripped a handful of your hair as you’d done to him. “I do love my job.” He punctuated his words with a harsh stroke that bumped somewhere deep inside you that you hadn’t even touched doing your own exploration.

“Sleeping through the clientele wasn’t in your job description. Being a whore just seems to be your favorite hobby.” With each slowing thrust, Sam kept his depth but was losing his speed and his coordination. He had to be close, but he stopped once more to turn you around and push back onto the mattress. “Jesus christ, do you rotate every girl you fuck like a gas station hot dog?” you asked, dropping the act for a second as a smile threatened to break out. Sam’s eyes widened, once again visible since you were on your back after changing positions for the third time within a few minutes.

“...Sorry.”

You shook your head, a bit of mirth still lingering in your tone. “S’fine. Just keep going this time, I was close.”

Sam nodded, restarting with something a little slower, a little less intense than the rest of your coupling had been. It was just as good, though, and you closed your eyes as your high began building again. Since his hands were busy holding himself up as he undulated and kept the roll of his hips going, Sam paused and took your hand, bringing your fingers to his lips for the second time that night. He wet them in his mouth and guided them to where he was still buried in the sweet heat of your body. “Touch yourself for me, princess,” he rasped, voice low and rough.

Lost in his own arousal, his edges dulled, and you watched the unfettered desire take over him as he watched you do as he asked without a fight, for once. 

He really was entirely too good-looking for his own good. All of the features you spent days building up a disdain for, for reasons that didn’t reveal themselves until you stuck in his web lost the veil of contempt that sullied them, were on display and for the first time, you admired Sam without feeling the need to punish yourself afterwards for thinking such thoughts. 

The steady push, pull, fill, drag of Sam’s thrusts into you finally pushed you over the edge with the help of your experienced fingers, and you threw your head back in ecstasy, gasping out Sam’s name as small noises crawled their way out of your chest and left it heaving.

Sam followed you off the edge, enticed by the flutter of your walls around him and the sound of his name on your lips. He echoed you with a low, drawn-out groan, pausing when he was as deep inside of you as he could be. “That’s it,” he breathed, lowering himself to his elbow as his other hand smoothed up and down your side, one of the first gentle interactions between the two of you.

You couldn't keep the jab in, this time - not with how much you found yourself liking the new, softer atmosphere. “You’re not falling in love with me, are you, Sam?” you jested softly as he kept his hands roaming your skin. But you kept your voice low, and your leg wrapped around his hip, keeping him lodged in your warmth so you didn't have much ground of defense if he turned your argument against you. “After all that effort acting like you wanted to eat the rich…”

“Shh,” he hushed, pressing a kiss to the hollow of your throat. “Like I said, we can go back to acting like we hate each other tomorrow but, for now, we can pretend to like each other. Also,” he said, finally withdrawing and discarding the condom before wrapping his arms around you from the back, “I definitely did eat the rich.”

You let out a half-hum, half-chuckle, and laced your fingers over the backs of his, snuggling closer to him and enjoying the butterfly kisses he was slowly placing across the nape of your neck, nose barely brushing your earlobe. “I suppose you did.”

With both of you basking in the after-effects of your orgasms, it was a while before you got up to pee and clean up the mess between your legs – or, let Sam do it in the shower.

Part of you thought back to how Tara described him doing the same for her, so you didn’t allow yourself to think much of it. But you still spent the night wrapped in his arms, and when you woke up, his soft snores muffled by your skin, you counted yourself lucky that you found it rather difficult to fall in love with people. There were many women at the resort that couldn’t say the same, and you wondered just how long the trail of broken hearts that Sam left in his wake was.

Finally, you were too restless to remain in bed, and you managed to wriggle out of Sam’s grasp to collect your things, throwing your outfit on from the previous night and thanking the universe for being an early riser. The sun hadn’t yet risen, and you could make the walk back to your room in peace without running into anyone who might want to stop and talk.

“It’s not time to wake up,” Sam mumbled sleepily, rubbing his eyes and yawning from the bed. “You don’t have to sneak out,” he said with a frown when he registered that you were making to leave.

“I know,” you assured him. With a small half-smile, you said, “I do own the place, after all.”

Sam got up when it was clear you weren’t going to come back to his bed and walked you to the door, leaning on the frame in that annoyingly attractive way of his when you stepped into the hall. “So...come by the office and maybe I can give you the ‘pool boy special’ sometime,” he said, and you softly flicked him on his bare chest.

“And watch you offer the same ‘pool boy special’ to every other woman there? Yeah, no thanks,” you refused, under no pretense that Sam would stop being Sam just because he slept with you. “But I do appreciate the reminder as to why I don’t like you.”

Sam hummed, tilting your head up by your chin to languidly press a kiss to your lips. “And why is that, again?”

It was a nice distraction, sure, but the pride you held to be able to say that you could see through the water, no matter how murky it was, kept you focused on the conversation. “Whore,” you scoffed, both in insult and in explanation, and Sam smiled down at you, almost affectionately. 

“You’ll take every opportunity to call me a whore, won’t you?”

You were about to confirm Sam's suspicions when the door across from you opened and a very tired looking man stepped out, looking surprised to see you. Dark, curly hair, a pressed polo, lightweight, quality trousers, and a belt that matched his shoes – the golf caddy. “Oh! Uh…good morning, Miss–”

“She doesn’t need the ego boost of an honorific, Daniel, please.” Sam smirked at you as you narrowed your eyes.

You ignored Sam’s words, instead sauntering over to a wide-eyed Daniel, smoothing a finger over a flip in his collar. “I appreciate the respect, Daniel. Sam needs to learn a little more of it. You’re the head golf caddy, aren’t you?” Daniel stuttered out an affirmation, and you smiled warmly at him, feeling Sam’s eyes on you from behind. “That’s impressive. So young, and my father talks very highly of you. It’s quite difficult to earn his approval, but you’ve managed to do it. Perhaps I’ll stop by for a private lesson one of these days; you’ll have a spot for me in your schedule, won’t you?”

It was a shameless power play, and a gross misuse of your status, but that familiar wave of satisfaction when Daniel didn’t even check before he said you could come anytime and he’d be available sent your brain whirring with pleasure. A different kind than you got from your spars with Sam or the physical kind you experienced the night before, but you liked the feeling, so you had no plans on denying yourself of it.

Turning smugly back to Sam, just so that he could see that you still held the power he wanted to fuck out of you, you shot him the bird. “Well, invigorating conversation, Sam, but I still think you’re a lazy asshole and a shameless, attention-seeking–”

“Whore,” he finished for you. “I know.”

As you walked away, you heard the muted slap of an impacted hand, and Danny hissed, barely audible, “Goddammit– are you kidding me, Sam? The one person I told you that you didn’t want to piss off and–”

“Chill out, Daniel – that was flirting, not fighting.”

~~~

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~~~

Feel free to talk to me in the comments or my ask inbox!

[meteor752]

Curious of what a modern au with the kids would look like…

Oh Anon don’t make me go there

(I am going there)

Not making designs for them (at the moment >:)) but I will give you some headcanons

Liana

Home girl is on her way to take over the fucking world

Comes from an extremely confusing home life, with her dads splitting up and getting together over and over again, both of them having had other partners during the breakup periods that never really last

In the present she has two dads and an additional step dad. She doesn’t like him that much, but her dads relationship seem more stable with him so she bears with it

Liana lost her leg just as she did in canon, due to frostbite. She got lost in the woods during winter for almost a week, and lost one of her shoes in a hole. She likes to dramatize the story though, to seem cooler

Started her own company at eighteen, and it grew into a multimillion corporation after only two years

She dabbles in a lot of things with her company, everything from movie production to train travel, tech to food items, theme parks to merch, and everything in between. Liana doesn’t calm down until she has control over every major industry in the world

Evil capitalist? Yes but consider this: Sexy evil capitalist lesbian. It makes up for it

She does own a lot of charities too, the majority of which being somewhat bird related, like the preservation of endangered birds, or rehabilitation of birds that have been abused by their owners. She likes birds

Still married to Jassy, her childhood best friend. She spoils her wife absolutely rotten (mostly with anime merch and manga’s), and would give up her entire company for her

Buuuuuut, Jassy hasn’t asked that of her yet, so Double Co. will keep on growing

Wes

Even without the imp genes, he’s still a big fricking boy

I mentioned multiple times that BDubs and Impulse were a bit like beauty pageant moms with Wes. Well…yeah

BDubs and Impulse wasn’t full beauty pageant moms (like those fuckers who like, perform surgeries on their four year olds so they will have fuller lips and shit), but beauty pageants was a huge part of my boy’s childhood, which wasn’t the best thing since he hates the spotlight and when people have their eyes on him. His dads would have stopped signing him up for them if he asked, but he was too nervous to do so, so yeah

But hey, at least my man can play the cello like a champ as an adult, since that was his talent.

He’s studying geology because rocks are cool :)

As an adult is relationship with his dads is…a bit strained, but he’s working through it in therapy

Engaged to his fiancé Jekiv, and has been so for many years now. Both of them are still studying, and even though his best friend (and stepsister’s) rich af wife has offered to handle the budget for the wedding, they want to wait until they can afford it themselves

Still has OCD and a lot of Anxiety, but now there’s at least medicine!

Gertrude

Golden retriever personified

She works out everyday just so she can lift and hug every dog she meets

One of her dads cheated on her other dad when she was little, so she grew up in separate homes. It was alright though, Big B would always bake with her and take her to the dog park, while Ren would tell fantastical stories and play as much dress up as she wanted

So yeah, Gertrude is actually pretty aight in this universe

I imagine Renchanting is some shop her dad owns, maybe either like a bisexual crystal shop or like a costume place, but she probably works part time there

Volunteers at a lot of dog rescue shelters, and has adopted many of them

Is studying to become a vet, but is also practicing writing on the side. She wants to write children’s fantasy novels, about princesses and magic

Is dating Novo, and has been waiting for him to propose for almost six years. She gonna keep on waiting

Johnny

Man is half British half Arizonan, still somehow speaks with a country accent. Only god knows where he got it from, and I don’t even think he does

Apart from more humane features, nothing about Johnny changes. Still an Aromantic icon, still a sweetie, still a rancher at heart, and he can still absolutely shred it on the Banjo

Suffers from mild anemia and asthma. He sometimes struggles to keep up with his friends, especially when they were children, but he always found ways to keep their pace, even if that means he sometimes had to be carried

He absolutely has one of those trucks that he treats as his baby. He’s worked on it for years, he has a name for it (It’s Butternut), he will cry if it’s even slightly scratched, it’s his child and he loves it very much.

Gertrude probably taught him some mechanics to take care of Butternut

Dreams of one day owning a ranch, but that’s a bit away

He probably volunteers and helps out at a lot of stables and riding schools, wrangling horses and whatnot. He’s got a natural talent, what can I say?

Jassy

She still styles her hair in all of those ridiculous anime styles, but now it takes a considerable amount of more hairspray and time

The way she bonded with her dads as a kid was through their favorite medias, so with Etho they would always talk Naruto and anime while with Joel she would always talk Shrek and Harry Potter

Has taken Ninjitsu and parkour classes since she learned how to walk

The only dyed part of her hair is the green streak. She has incredibly pale blonde hair

Married to one of the most successful entrepreneurs ever, and she pulled that bitch by being a fucking weeb

Is extremely into Cosplay, and has a Naruto OC that is Kakashi’s super cool powerful daughter

Has a job in a book store, mostly because she enjoys having something to do during the days. Is a bad employe tho, spends most of the time reading manga or mystery novels

Collects knives and daggers as a hobby because she’s just that bitch

Jekiv

Imagining Jekiv as not a Zombie is actually very difficult

In canon Martyn just kinda dipped, but imma say he stuck around here, so yeah Jekiv grew up with both of his parents. Separated of course, but they were both present

Still, he’s got a lot better relationship with his mom than his dad. They’re more alike

Suffers from Hyperthyroidism, which is the reason behind his skinny figure, his patchy hair, his weak muscles, and his bulging eyes. He’s had it since he was a tween, and he tries to not let it bother him

He gets sunburnt really easily so he rarely goes outside when the sun is shining. He’s pale af

Is studying forensic pathology, and works part time at a morgue. He’s always had a weird fascination with dead bodies, but hey at least he isn’t a serial killer

Would absolutely be a serial killer if he had the skills and strength to do so

Owns over twenty breeds of frog, two of which is poisonous

Has a resting bitch face, but he also is just a straight up bitch sometimes

Novo

Mans still a lil freak

Has Stahl’s ear syndrome and thinks it’s cool as fuck. Usually has his hair tied up to show it off

Bleaches and dyes his hair a new color every month. His hair is permanently damaged because of it, but he’s mostly fine with it

While his parents are on non speaking terms, they’re a lot more healthy than in canon. Novo is well raised and loved, he’s just Like That

Has a freakish resistance to the cold, like, Canadian level resistance, so mans will just lay in in a t-shirt and skirt in the snow while taking a nap

Picks up a new instrument every few weeks. He can’t play any of them, but he likes to find ways to annoy his friends with them

Is studying law, actually. He may not look or act it, but he’s freakishly smart, and he wants to become a prosecutor

Is dating Gertrude, and has been waiting for her to propose for almost six years. He’s gonna keep on waiting

[bella-goths-wife]

I'm loving your lost boy Hc's! If possible can you write about what the boys might do for the adopted readers birthday?

What the lost boys would do for adopted readers birthday

Dwayne

Dwayne hates when your birthday comes around

It’s just a reminder that his little kid is growing up and he can’t do anything to stop it without it turning you insane

He’s definitely the one who does the most for your birthday

He’ll go out and steal (or even, god forbid, buy) you a lavish cake, the type you would see at a wedding

He’ll want to have a party for you but only in the cave and only if star isn’t there

The idea is shut down by David and Dwayne comprises that you should have a “small get together” in the cave instead

It doesn’t stay small as he goes all out on the party and uses his vampiric powers to decorate the cave top to toe

He will definitely be like a rich PTA mom on your birthday with the way he spoils you

All he asks in return is to have a daddy daughter dance with you to one of his favourite rock songs

Paul

He forgets

As I’ve said in my other posts Paul is a absent dad

He loves you more than anything in the world, your his baby

He just loves partying more than you, he’d never say it to anyone though

He’s the type to go and get a last minute card from the store and sign it “love dad” and not adding anything other than that

He’ll try and make it up to you during your party by playing with your and flying you to the top of the cave and chasing you

It gets a bit awkward when you open your card and its the wrong one for the occasion

“Daddy, why does my card say ‘my condolences?”

“Oh uh it’s because of the fact it’s killing me that your, Um, growing up so fast?”

The boys will definitely not be happy with him.

Marko

Will buy you very personal gifts

If you ever mention liking something throughout the year he will steal it for you

He’s definitely in charge of wrapping because no one else wanted to do it and he’ll add a little bow on it for you

Wakes you up by giving your pancakes for your birthday

Is the most angry at Paul for forgetting but has already stolen a present, wrapped it and signed it ‘from Paul’

David

He’s had so many birthdays over the years that he doesn’t really see yours as a big deal

He’ll tell you that he’s happy your getting older because the sooner you reach 21, he’ll be able to turn you and you won’t be “so needy anymore”

That’s a lie though

He hates seeing you grow up

The more you grow he notices you looking at him less with admiration as if he’s some kind of god

The more you grow, the more he sees a curious fire in your eyes, as if you are building yourself up for something, he just doesn’t know what

It terrifies him because he believes that the more you grow, the closer you get to finding out the truth about what happened to your mother.

In a sick way, he wants you to be dependent on the boys, so that he can control what you find out about them

He wants you to remain young because the more you age, the more you realise that the boys behaviour isn’t normal like other dads and that the things they say and do aren’t acceptable

He wants to keep you a kid forever but he’ll never tell you, you’ll get soft

Star

She loves your birthdays because she gets to treat you

Usually the boys treat star just as a babysitter, someone who’s temporarily in your life

But star knows that she’s your mother, and she knows you do as well

She knows this because of how you come to her at night if you have a nightmare and how you secretly call her mama when your alone

On your birthday she gets time with you where your not being monitored by the boys

She can be your mother and you can be her daughter without worrying about the boys hearing and scolding you or possibly killing star

She takes you for a special day on the boardwalk and uses the money david gave her to treat you on the rides (even if the boys tell her that they’re unsafe, she doesn’t care as long as you have that joyful little smile on your face)

You’ll giggle with glee on the rollercoasters and hold onto her for dear life

She’ll take your for a meal and over food you’ll talk about all the things you can’t with the boys, about David’s mean words or Paul’s absence or Dwayne and marko’s constant defending of the other’s actions

In other words you can rant and star will be there for you

So out of everyone star is the one who enjoys your birthday

Especially when she hides the leftover money and thinks of places the two of you could run away to when she has enough

[obigem]

"I know you're worried about that dinner." She started right in. "I get it. On paper, Mom's not exactly impressive next to a doctor and engineer."

"When you say it like that, it makes it seem like I'm ashamed of her or something."

"I know you're not, but I also know that look you get when people ask about our family. We live in Oasis Springs. Most of the people here make what we see in a year in less than 3 months. It's hard when you're the kid who doesn't have all the new flashy clothes or devices."

"I'll never forget the look you got when I took you and DeShawn to daycare for the first time and all the kids teased you because you said you were D's uncle. You were too young to experience what it means to be different. To have a family a little more colorful than others."

"But I always say our colorful family is a great way of weeding out those who aren't worth our time. If those Fletchers judge you, then they don't deserve to have a boy with a heart as big as yours dating their daughter."

"Ri," Jai sighed. "How could they not judge?"

"Isn't it human nature to feel sorry for those who have less than you?" Then in a lowered voice. "Way less than you."

"Only if they're shallow. How much a person has isn't limited to material things. You're not dating a rich, spoiled girl, are you?"

"Cordie? No way."

"She's amazing. She's kind, and genuine, compassionate, loyal—"

"And cute, right?"

"Oh, well," Jai got flustered.

"I can tell she is. She's that little girl you'd always have over and stay smiling at, isn't she? Always knew you were sweet on her." Ri giggled.

"If that's the one, what do you have to be worried over?"

"I...don't want her to look at me any differently. If she learns about Mom and Kade, how we live, what we don't have."

"If she is who I think she is, she won't. If she truly likes you, none of that will matter."

When her plea to reason with him didn't seem to be moving him much, Ri offered something more.

"Would it help if I came too? That way when Kade inevitably fumbles, I can distract with all my glowing achievments."

"You have to work that night."

"I can call out."

"No. Don't. Not on my account. I'm sure you're right. It'll be fine."

"Are you sure? I'm serious. I can find someone to cover for me."

"I'm sure." Ri stood, and then pulled her baby brother to her.

"It'll work out Jairo. You know I hate to see you worry."

Jairo melted in Adriana's arms. She was like a second mother to him. Growing up, she would help care for him alongside DeShawn like he was her own despite being her baby brother. In moments like this, he could allow himself to just be a kid who needed comfort.

Before fully pulling away from him, she rested her hands on his shoulders.

"Do me a favor and just trust in yourself, Jairo. We may not be rich, but you're rich is so many other things, like your incredible spirit and determination. Do you hear me, Jairo James?"

Jai silently nodded his head.

"Not good enough. I wanna hear you."

"I hear you. I do."

"Good. Now believe it. Because it's true. Chin up, OK?"

"I know, Ri. I will."

"Now, come here. Give your big sister a kiss goodnight."

"Ri!" Jai tried to swat her off.

"Don't you dare! I don't care how old you get, you're still my baby brother." She said with a smile as she planted a kiss on his cheek.

"OK, OK, fine!" He gave in and kissed her back.

The Talk with Ri happened to be just what he needed.

He was still unsure about how the dinner would go, and still had a lot of worries about it. But just maybe the positive things he had to offer would be enough to carry him through.

[jewbeloved]

can you write about Main 4+ Butter with a Rich s/o

Main 4 + Butters with a Rich! s/o💵💵💰💓💓

Warnings: None

Gender: Neutral

🫐 Stan Marsh 💙

Let's imagine that you were a really popular student in the school.

Everyone is fonding over you and always wanting your autograph.

You were also indeed very rich, you also just sometimes feel like these people just only like you for your looks and money.

But you knew you already had the looks for a certain boy you took interest, Stan Marsh.

Stan is most definitely in utterly disbelief that you would choose him out of everybody in this school.

He didn't really care about how somebody looks or If they're rich or not. He mostly goes for their personality.

You explained to him that you choose him because he didn't take interest in your looks or your money and you were glad about that.

But people would stare straight at you both if you are walking the hallways to class.

Some even gave him death glares.

You gave those people a death glare back If they ever stared at Stan.

It's their lost.💙💙💙💙💙

💚 Kyle Broflovski ☘️

Omigod

When you saw Kyle, you just saw this as a win-win.

Even thought people are always following you where ever you go, you always kept your eyes on Kyle and nobody else.

You tend to make him fluster all the time and sometimes spoil him a little.

He does appreciate it, but he declines your gifts because you didn't need to spend all of that money to get him that, you could say all he want is your affection towards him <3.

Your house is a literally luxury mansion, that Kyle almost mistaken you for living in a castle-

He is amazed by how unique your house is thought!

Same with Stan, people do get jealous when they see you holding hands with Kyle.

Sometimes he even ends up receiving letters in his locker threatening to beat him up.

He shrugged it off because it was probably written by somebody who has no bitches or is a desperate loser.

If the person does try to hurt Kyle, you immediately blocked the person's way with a angry look on your face.

The person then ran away and you embraced Kyle into your arms while placing a kiss on his lips.

He felt so loved that you were doing all of this for him.

You love him for the way he is, and he loves you the same. The moments between you never ends💚💚💚💚

❤️ Eric Cartman 🍒

His mom spoils him all the damn time, so you spoiling him is like playing with matches ;-;

He likes that you spoil him, but he also still doesn't give a shit about how rich you are. He still sometimes make fun of you just like everyone else but he doesn't be too mean about it.

Cuddles with him is still always the best! But he prefers to cuddle on the couch then in bed because your bed is literally huge and he gets sunk into it like he's in quicksand-

He hates to admit it, but he likes it whenever you are the big spoon when cuddling. He likes the feelings of your arms around him holding him close to you like you never want to let him go.

Cartman is an evil asshole, but he still has feelings you know?❤️❤️❤️❤️

🧡 Kenny Mccormick 🍊

You felt bad when you found out that Kenny was the poorest kid in south park and you were the richest (including Token).

Every night, you sneak out of your house with a basket full of food and drinks and left it at the Mccormick's doorstep.

You knocked on the door and ran away back to your house.

Karen was the one to open the door, she found a basket with a little note attached to it on the doorstep.

Kenny came out behind her and saw what she was looking at.

They both looked at each other for a sec before picking up the basket together and took it inside.

The note on the basket was written: "Hey, it really does make me sad when I see that you guys are poor and have no food to eat so I asked my mom to prepare a meal for you guys and put it in the basket to take to your doorstep for you". - signed by Y/n.

Kenny was surprised and his face lit up in flusterness until he saw that you written more on the back of the note.

"Oh and by the way, that confession letter you putted in my locker. I accept! I would love to be your girlfriend/boyfriend <3".

Kenny immediately fainted onto the floor with a big smile on his face, even if its covered by his parka.🧡🧡🧡🧡

💛 Butters Scotch 🧈

Please, you spoiled this boy to the maximum!

Same like Kyle, Butters also declined your gifts as well, he didn't want you to spend a whole a lot of money to get him a sample gift you know?

But also at the same time, he loves the affection you give him!

It makes him feel all happy inside <3

Butters grandma doesn't like you both being together so she demands you both to break up.

Butters didn't know what to do and feared that his grandma will beat him up again if he doesn't break up with you, but at the same time he loves you too much to even want to break up.

Let's just say that you had a real talk with his grandma and his parents for quite a couple of hours.

After you were finished Butters grandma had a worried look on her face.

"Woah, y/n..what did you do to my grandma and parents?", "Don't worry about that Butters we just only had a little talk that's all".

At the end of the day, Butters is really glad to have you by his side. He was really wishing that he had this kind of affection with his family, but since it's with you he doesn't mind it.💛💛💛💛

Request completed✅✅✅✅

[thenovelartist]

Boys as Dads - Tears of Themis Headcanons

I've been sitting on this for days, writing it after @luke-appreciator mentioned the boys as dads and henceforth planting the idea in my mind.

Luke

LOOK! Luke is living past his three year “time limit” goshdarnit! He gets to see his kids grow up!

And he has several of them with his MC (I’m thinking four or five.)

They were all mostly planned. (They were just rolling with however many they were blessed with until they decided to stop.)

When his first child was born, he cried. He didn’t think he’d get this opportunity, but now he’s a dad and feels overwhelmed by the blessing.

He is as involved in his kids’ lives as he possibly can be.

He’s the dad that will teach his kids how to fix everything.

Totally the hands-on dad of wrestling and headlocks and ruffling their hair.

Yes, even his girls, but in a slightly different context. Uses those moments to teach them self-defense. (Yes, he’ll do that to his boys, but he’s more concerned about his girls.)

That said, he’s very protective of his kids and wants to give them all the knowledge he can to make sure they can keep themselves safe.

Will try to get his kids into Sherlock Holmes.

One of his kids is named John after John Watson. It was actually MC’s idea, much to Luke’s surprise and delight.

When he’s away on mission (which already makes him sad because he doesn’t like being away from his precious family), he hates it when he has to go full dark mode. Because he’d at least like to call them and tell them good night if he can’t be there.

The king of pictures.

There are cameras scattered throughout the house so he can easily steal a picture whenever he wants to.

Will put together scrapbooks upon scrapbooks of photographs for all kinds of events. The kids get in on these activities, and it has become a bit of a family event to arrange the pages together.

Not a day goes by he takes for granted. Does not matter if he’s cleaning up diapers or one of his kids is sick or he’s having to do damage control when something gets out of hand. He cherishes all of it.

Vyn

I see Vyn having one or two. Both were totally planned.

Mostly, he just sees children as patients, but now, he’s got two children he actually raises.

And the moment his first child is placed into his arms, he realizes with sickening clarity that his actions have a direct impact on their lives.

While he knew that beforehand, there was a moment it clicked, and Vyn felt himself change that day.

He strives to be the best father he can, minding everything he does to lead by example.

He didn’t have the greatest childhood, meaning he does everything he can to make sure his kids never have to experience the things he wished never happened to him.

He’s a bit of a helicopter parent despite knowing he needs to not be. All he wants to do is protect his kids, is that so wrong?

However, because of that, he happens to understand and sympathize with parents more now. His kids wrecked him in ways he didn’t think possible.

It’s a bit of a learning experience for him to allow his kids to learn on their own. He knows so much and wants to just tell them everything they need to know, but realizes that he can’t do that. He has to let them learn and grow in their own ways.

He wants to give his kids the best, from quality schooling to extracurricular activities. But he’s also is more than happy to teach them their way around the kitchen and garden as well as play games and do puzzles with them.

Also really enjoys reading them books at bedtime. A habit that will linger around for surprisingly long while.

He’s the dad that is glad to help with homework whenever they need it.

Always offers to listen to them and talk them through things. It would be pretty shameful if the psychiatrist couldn’t help guide his own kids through their own mental hurdles.

And he knows he did something right because his kids are comfortable talking with him about a lot of things, even in their teenage and young adult years.

Ends up the dad who has the best life advice that his kids eventually learn to always listen to even if they don’t appreciate it when they’re younger.

Artem

Ends up with a large family, both adopting and raising his own.

Probably two of their own, and two or three (or four… maybe five) adopted.

The kids they had were planned; the ones they adopted… not always. It tended to be a “this one grew on you unexpectedly” situation.

Loves all his kids equally, whether they’re his own or adopted.

Super supportive dad. Probably spoils his kids in praise and hugs.

That being said, he won’t coddle them. He’s all for supporting them, but knows when to allow his kids face the negative consequences of their actions. He’s an attorney, after all. This is his “justice” side showing.

But he’s fair. He will guide them the best he can but will let experience be the teacher if he needs to. And if experience is the cruel teacher of the day, he’ll be there, whether to pick them up, dust them off, and offer hugs or to talk them through how to best navigate the consequences and avoid the situation next time.

His schedule revolves around any and all events in his kids’ lives. Which, considering the size of his family, is a balancing act.

Days off are sacred. That is his time to spend with his family.

Nightly family dinners are a big thing in the Wing household. Game nights on weekends are even bigger. And louder.

He’s the dad that can go from tutus and tea parties to action figures and lego sets. Whatever his kids are up for, he’ll gladly participate.

Every year, for each kid’s birthday, will spend one-on-one time with them and do whatever they want to do for an entire day. With a big family, especially with the adopted ones, he knows it might be easy to feel lost in the crowd and doesn’t want any of his kids thinking that.

Once a year, they go on a week-long vacation somewhere in nature. No phones, no technology; this is family bonding time and time for kids to just run around and be kids.

All in all, grade A dad.

Marius

Ends up with two or three.

The first one was a surprise, and likely one more after that was not planned, either.

But the moment he holds his first child, a switch goes off in his mind and Marius matures, knowing he’s got not only his girl to protect and keep safe but now a helpless little one who’s wholly dependent upon him.

He’s probably the second most hover-y of the boys behind Vyn. And that’s less because he’s a helicopter parent and more because he knows he’s a target for people and is very concerned for his kids’ safety. So he’s hypervigilant of everything, including what school they go to, who they’re friends with, where they go, etc.

Their house… oh my…

He’s an artist, and he will inspire that in his kids. There’s paint, stickers, crayons, and markers freaking everywhere.

Oh, and art taped to practically every wall. And a few in his office.

Marks every major event down on a calendar. His assistant knows there will be hell to pay if there’s a scheduling mishap.

Never let him help with homework (unless it’s art). Because he’s the guy who will teach his kids the smartass answers to some questions, even if it gets his kids in trouble.

(Spoiler: his kids never mind and instead pick up his bad habits.)

(Much to MC’s chagrin. Will make Marius go sit in the corner, much to his children’s delight.)

Will put his kids into any extracurricular activities they want growing up.

Totally spoils them in that way.

But the minute they turn into little shits about their wealth? Say good bye to your technology for the next few days. Marius is all about spoiling his kids, but not rotten. Even he hates snotty rich people he has to deal with, and he’s not gonna let his kids be like that.

Loves spending time doing things with his kids. Up for anything from the midday ice creams when mom told them no to spontaneous adventures. Oh yeah, he’s that dad.

[sophie-i-guess13]

Bob Sheldon x Reader

I am physically incapable of writing something short I am so sorry. BUT! This is a request I got from the wonderful @ksuwoxb about a bob Sheldon x Mathews sister :) hope you enjoy!

When I was little, I had a dream of being a cheerleader. I was a rowdy thirteen-year-old the first time I saw those cheerleaders on television, with their fancy uniforms and million-dollar smiles on the field beside the Dallas Cowboys. I did as many cartwheels and somersaults I could manage on the front lawn without giving Mom a heart attack, but it was pretty obvious I’d need a lot more practice to be anything like the girls on the screen.

One summer, after Darry Curtis took a class at the college, he taught me and the rest of the boys in his gang how to do a few flips and things. I enjoyed it at the moment, but that changed when I actually got to high school and realized all the things I’d need and didn’t have. Like money for the uniform, sneakers that weren’t my big brother’s for years, and a way onto the squad after all the places had been snatched up by pretty and popular Soc girls.

“Hey, Mathews, have you heard anything I just said?”

My locker creeps open stiffly, the sound lost amid the shuffle of students around us as I slide my backpack off my shoulders. “No, Bob. If I’ve learned anything in Mr. Syme’s class, it’s how to ignore you.”

I realized pretty early on I wouldn’t be able to bother Mom for a uniform or brand new shoes – no matter how hard she worked or how tempted Keith – Two-Bit – was to steal them for me. So, I did the next best thing I could think of and studied. It was more affordable than being a cheerleader and would help me out in the long run, anyway. So far, all that studying has done is made me and Bob Sheldon compete for the highest grade in our eleventh-grade English class.

And let me tell you, for a kid who’s used to everything being handed to him on a silver platter, he hasn’t given up – even this far into the semester.

I have no choice but to look at him when he leans against my locker with enough force to send the whole row trembling. I’m not scared of him, though, I’ve never been.

He’s a little bit taller than me with brown hair, though it ain’t as dark as his eyes. He walks around town like he owns the joint, usually with more of his Soc buddies like Randy Anderson and Sherri ‘Cherry’ Valance. But, now that I come to think of it, I haven’t seen her around too much. “No one’s gonna kill you if you don’t get first place, you know.”

I’ve gotta give it to him; for such a spoiled asshole, Bob sure does a good job and acting indifferent. Mr. Syme had let us all go five minutes early at the end of class, the last period of the day so we could hurry home and start our essays on Shakespeare's “Othello”. He’d even gone as far as to say the three kids with the best essay on his use of symbolism would get it published in the paper.

Getting mentioned in the paper for an essay would mean the chance at a scholarship and proud parents.

And Bob Sheldon wanted it just as much as I did.

“Really,” he drawls again, picking at his nails as I rearrange my textbooks for the weekend, “why don’t you just take it slow this time around, go out with some friends maybe?”

I force a smile so sweet, I can already feel my teeth rotting as I look at him. He’s a rich, pompous Soc, but I hate to admit he ain’t bad to look at. “Well, ain’t that just sweet? You’re worried about me?” My fingers brush against my skirt as I talk, absent-mindedly tracing the dried ketchup stain above my right knee. “I’m sure a guy like you’s got a million different parties to attend this weekend, why don’t you just forget about the essay?”

He pushes away from the lockers, squaring his shoulders before wiping grime off his jacket. “And let you get ahead of me? Not a chance, Mathews.”

I was used to our bickering back and forth by now, but this had started to get annoying. It was nearing three o’clock on a Friday afternoon and all I wanted to do was go home. Not stand here wth my locker hanging open, and a flimsy book bag hanging off my shoulder while he stood in front of me, looking as polished as the marble statues we were learning about in history.

“Why don’t we both take the weekend off? The essay isn’t due for another week and a half, anyway.”

I liked the sound of that. Not only would I be able to take a weekend to myself stress-free, I could use that time to visit the Curtis boys with my brother while Mom was at work. They’d been taking it pretty hard since their parents died a month back, Pony and Sodapop ain’t even back in school yet. And then, I’d still be able to write up an essay brilliant enough to knock Bob back into second place.

“You were right, surprisingly,” he chuckled, “Randy’s folks are outta town and he’s throwing a bash tonight at his place. I’m on the list, so I really can’t work on that essay tonight, anyway-”

After years of being in school together, I still can barely stand this kid. All I want to do is go home, but he’s still here, yacking on and on worse than our teacher!

“-So, what do you say?”

I bring back the sickly sweet smile as my fingers curl around my locker door, aching to slam it shut. “Yeah, sounds like a plan.”

Bob tilts his chin a little higher and pops his collar, a smirk pulling at his lips as he turns on his heel and begins to walk away. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”

[br-disaster]

Nie Huaisang’s outfits appreciation post

After the terrible loss of our second best dressed cultivator and fashion icon Nie Mingjue, the cultivation world now lacks one of it’s pillars. But little did they know, our fashion king had a disciple, someone capable of honoring his legacy in many ways.

While we all grief, a new icon rises.

And I’m here to prove that Nie Huaisang deserves his late brother’s title not only because Mingjue’s no longer serving looks -may his fashionable soul rest in peace-, but because Huaisang has always been a stylish icon on his own.

I mean, this look right here is enough proof:

 Huaisang has quite a lot of robes, and they are all so different, I decided to compile them chronologically:

1. the “assigned fashionable at birth”one

Look at this small bean with his cream-colored robes. Whoever chose this color for him did a great job, though it’s a bit weird that they looked at baby Mingjue and went “all you’ll wear is dark gray from now on” and then Huaisang was born and “cream it is!” And we don’t really see anybody else from the Nie sect wearing this color, I wonder if it has anything to do with Huaisang’s mom, or if it’s just for the dark\light color contrast,  the two young masters can’t possibly wear the same colors, it would ruin the aesthetic.

 It looks just like his main-possibly-stay-at-home-robes, like he just really loved this especific set and had a lot of other robes that looked just the same growing up.

Really small, really cute, makes you want to carry him around saying: look at my baby, he’s so stylish!

2. the “good old Gusu days” one

This is like a uniform, there’s nothing really special about it. But I’d like to point out two things:

One: the silver embroidery on the shoulders and the silver on his waist belt matches the pristine white of his robes really well.

Two: look how wide his shouders look, there you go, Huaisang, keeping the Nie shoulder game strong!

3. The “it’s called fashion, dage” one

Cream-colored again! It embodies teen!Huaisang’s aesthetic perfectly: it’s expensive, it’s pretty, it looks comfortable, but it’s minimalistic.

I mean, I have no idea if it is actually expensive, but it surely looks expensive.

It has no discernable patterns, but the fabric just looks so good, look at the texture. It looks warm and heavy (rip Ji Li). And it’s pleated, look at him! Everything about this one screams rich-carefree-spoiled-delicate-pretty-gongzi.

And well, we see him strolling around and getting in trouble instead of going straight home in this robes, then on Fatal Journey we see him painting landscapes instead of practicing and claiming he doesn’t want to become the Nie sect leader in this very set of robes. Maybe he has indeed been wearing similar robes since his childhood and wants to, you know, go back to when things were as simple as taking the long way home coming back from Gusu.

4. the “didn’t really engage on the war but needed to look good regardless” one

This one is so pretty, y’all. It’s silver and white and gray, the brothers  are matching with their disciples’ robes, you won’t find a Sect with a superior fashion sense.

I can totally understand why he didn’t change to some post-Sunshot robes. Imagine looking this good at home, with none of your friends or disciples or brother to see you. Nope. This robes belong to a banquet, even one as unpleasing and akward as this one.

(They technically saw him, since he wore the same robes while they were planning the whole Sunshot thing, but no one was paying attention to it, right? And you can’t let such a nice look go to waste)

One of my favorites, for sure. It even matches his fan. It’s peak aesthetic.

5. the “I’m only here for the food and the drama” one

I didn’t really like this one at first. It looked kinda futuristic in my head, you know? It’s probably just the really structured fabric and the color, but It was a bit too much.

But now, looking at it as I take screenshots, I like them. It’s bold and fierce and remember the shoulder accessories being a code for battle? Well, I doubt Huaisang shot a single arrow that day, but he was supposed to be competing, so it makes a lot of sense that he’s dressed like this while his brother is wearing his pretty, dark yet lighter civillian robes to watch him.

He’s even wearing epaulettes (well, I trust that that’s the name) that matches the ones Mingjue wore with his Sunshot robes! Are they the same pair? Did he borrow it? Or do they secretly comission the same robes and accessories  and wear them on alternate occasions?

These are the most battle-coded (and at the same time is not battle-coded at all, it’s too ostentatious) robes we see him wearing until now, and he is representing his sect at the hunt, he has to look like a proper heir that is capable of fighting, whether he likes it or not - and judging by how unenthusiastic he was during the opening shoot-the-wen-prisioners ceremony, I’d say he was not enjoying it at all-.

But it’s such a cool look, I really like it now.

6. the “he will throw hands with a non-corporeal entity while giving his big brother all the love and understanding he deserves” one

 This may look like the same robes we usually wears at home, but they lack the pleated part and I don’t think his long sleeves would fit inside his wirst thingy, which I now know it’s called a vambrace or a bracer,  they were quite wide sleeves.

Anyway, we again have his minimalistic aesthetic. No patterns, the only addition being the outer robe that realy looks like the one Mingjue wears with his stay-at-home robes, except with no sleeves; and the bracers\vambraces.

But look how different this looks in comparison with the previous one; he wasn’t fighting shit in those pompous silver robes, but he was so determined here, ready to face anything. This is the difference between a battle-coded look and a battle-codded Huaisang.

It’s practical, it’s pretty, looks comfortable and it’s perfect for scolding your older brother then comforting him because he gets emotional when people argue with him, ok?

Huaisang is the best younger brother, fight me

8.the “sad, sad” one

I’ll just say that the inner robes are really similar to the one Mingjue wears with his stay-at-home robes, though they are not the same. Perhaps my theory that they did comission a lot of similar itens is correct after all.

I don’t think this look is particularly good, and the context surely doesn’t help at all, but it’s interesting to see him in gray and black.

 Overall, I hate it here.

9. the “somehow even worse” one

Look, if I had to compile all his outfits, I had to include this one. But there’s nothing to say about it except just looking at him wearing it makes me sad.

10. the “you didn’t see that coming, did you?” one

This one here is a trick, ok? At this point of the story we have no idea of what’s going on and if this misterious person is important or not; all we know is that he is quite fond of patterns and dark clothing. And that he has some money.

But damn, once we find out who this is, it instantly becomes something else entirely. 

It’s so fucking DARK!! It’s Wei Wuxian’s kind of dark, it’s crazy to think our boy Huaisang, who’s been wearing light grays, white and cream all his life would come up with something like that. It doesn’t even look Nie, and that’s probably what he was going for, y’know, so no one could recognize him and all of that.

But jesus, this look is just wow.  It’s perfect for a scheming mastermind, even though we don’t really know about it yet. The scales pattern is really nice and I love when he wears this sort of robe, with the fitted sleeves and the extra fabric at the shoulders. The flame (I think) pattern is nice too, though it’s a bit too much here, just a bit. But he seems to like this pattern a lot, so let him have it

And the craziest part is: we know these robes. And i’ve seen a couple of posts about them, it’s the same inner robe he wore at the Phoenix Mountain night hunt competition, almost 16 years ago. 

Like what are these robes made of??

11. the “sneaky, sneaky” one

The famous Nie pattern, am I right?

I love all theories about this one and as I took the screenshots, I noticed how his inner robe is the same as robe number 8. Huaisang says no to excessive buying, please reuse your clothes!

I’m particularly fond of the theory that Nie Mingjue comissioned robes for both his didi and his boyfriend Xichen, but I can accept that Huaisang just inherited his brother’s robes, though the flame pattern (once again proving we won’t guess Huaisang is behind everything not even after seeing him wearing the same patterns as in episode one twice) at the bottom is definetly a Huaisang thing.

I really like how heavy it looks, and the black thin stripe.We know it’s the same pattern as Xichen’s robe but seeing it combined with the back and light gray of the Nies really gives it a distinct identity.

12. the “and the oscar goes to...” one

Look at him, all innocent-looking placing all the chess pieces on their right places. Gotta love director Nie.  And it makes so much sense that he would wear something as light as this robes for this moment. He wore light colors for most of his youth, when he was carefree and naive and harmless; he cultivated a reputation of being dependent, fearful and stupid even. In this moment, more than ever, he needs people to believe this is exactly who he is, and what’s the best way of doing it?

Yes, reminding them of your old self. All he does is pretend and lie while he cries and faints.  A director and an actor too!

Throw yourself at your brother’s sworn brothers trying to look harmless while annoying the hell out of them? check.

Faint conveniently as your brother’s murderer lies at your face about killing said brother because even you have limits and you can’t watch that fuckery and not want to murder him right there? check.

Pretend to be stupid while conducting the protagonist and pretty much everybody else to ask the right questions and therefore unmask the terrible things your nemesis did?  also check.

And the robes are really pretty, look at the texture at the bottom right!! Silver and white go really well together. Wide, wide sleeves and this heavy-looking fabric. Superb, really, one of my favorites again.

And look at him carrying his saber (which he  probably left at Pier Lotus later)!

13. the “...and cut!” one

Look at these robes and tell me they don’t absolutely look like something Nie Mingjue would wear. You know he would. 

And it’s such a contrast to his previous robes. The white and silver one for looking innocent and lost and funny; the dark gray to look like a serious sect leader who will endorse the accusations against his enemy (Ok, he did act confused and lost and innocent in these robes, but he also showed real shock and grief and sadness, he did show his true feelings too)

He’s honoring his brother here, he did it, he brought justice to him, he defeated his brother’s murderer.  He spent years wanting and waiting for this moment, it’s only fair he would do so while looking so much like his beloved older brother.

I love everything about this look. The color palette is almost the same as the one robe his brother wore to the post-Sunshot campaign banquet. The dark,shining gray, the black, the thin bronze\golden stripe at the collar. Even that extra overlaid fabric at the bottom front of his robes is the same as Mingjue used to wear. Beautiful, really.

He would be really proud of you, I hope you know that, Huaisang.

14. the “I may or may not steal your chief cultivator status, watch out Wangji” one

I know he would never steal Wangji’s post, cql!NHS doesn’t even want it; but like, we deserved Chief cultivator!Huaisang, right? So it was worth the joke, I think.

The inner light gray robe yet AGAIN, I suspect this is his favorite inner robe.

We have some bold patterns here, so elegant. I really like when he wears this kind of outer robe, accentuating his shoulders, suits him really well, And this is such a Nie color palette, just like the previous one. In fact, Huaisang wears way more dark colors than we give him credit for. Especially after becoming sect leader. 

Sleeve game on point too, really long. And it matches his fan as well.

Lovely look, I wish we could have seen more.

In conclusion: 

King of versatility, resusing 16 year-old robes AND looking damn good while doing it! He looks good scheming, he looks good lying, he looks good fainting, he even looks good tricking people into stabbing other people!

 Name a more iconic king, I’ll wait.

[axwalker]

Creep 2: I don’t care if it hurts

HIGH SCHOOL AU

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC  (Lexie O’Brien) Book TRR

MASTERLIST HERE

Synopsis: Drake and Lexie are star-crossed lovers. Her father hates him and forces Lexie to stop any contact with Drake. Lost and heartbroken, he “bullies” her for two years until he discovers the truth of Lexie’s behavior.

A/N 1 This came up to me after I got an ask from @nestledonthaveone​ to write a fic based on the song CREEP.

I used to hear this song when I was a teenager, so when I read this ask, I immediately wanted to write something angsty but situated in high school.

A/N 2: Because they’re younger than usual, I decided to change my  FC. 

Words: 4,110 

WARNINGS: Parental abuse, domestic violence, toxic love.

THIS IS NOT YOUR USUAL MARSHMALLOW DRAKE. He was abandoned as a boy, he’s tortured and he doesn’t know how to express his love. His behavior is not excusable.

This is a dark love story. If you’re not comfortable with it, PLEASE do not read it.  

ALL MY FICS ARE 18+

TAGS ON THE COMMENTS

As this is darker than usual; I’m only tagging the people who commented in the previous chapter. If you want to get on or off the list for this fic, please do not hesitate to ask!! 

DRAKE

Even if she never looks at me or speaks to me again, she’s mine. Even if I’ve been a horrible jerk to her for two years and she pales every time I pull into the parking lot on my motorcycle, she is mine. Just seeing her with him enrages me, so I walk straight toward my usual seat, directly behind Lexie, and slam my textbook down onto the desk.

Startled, Rys looks up at me, “Hey, Walker. What’s up?” 

It’s not the first time he tries to make a move on Lexie. Last time –two years ago, we almost killed each other. Pretty boy might be an entitled ass, but he knows how to fight. Maybe he thinks Lexie is game again after all this time. He couldn’t be more wrong. 

 “Don’t you have a class this period?” I ask him. Liam cocks his left eyebrow, adjusting the straps of his backpack. 

“I fail to see why that concerns you, Creep.”  

My smile is murderous. “Get the fuck out of here before I break your face, pretty boy.”

I think he has a death wish because he looks at Lexie when he talks, “See you after class, Alexis, when your watchdog will be busy mowing my lawn.” Finally, he just shakes his head and gets out of the classroom. I resume my daily routine. Staring at the back of Lexie’s head, tracing the curve of her perfect neck, my cock getting hard over her perfect cherry scent. 

“So that’s what you like,” I say, leaning forward to speak an inch from her ears. “You like them with blond hair and pink polo shirts. Prospects for Cambridge or shit. A huge trust fund. Don’t you? A brat like you needs someone who can spoil her. I bet you’d introduce him to daddy, wouldn’t you?” 

She doesn’t respond. She never does. Her eyes stay stubbornly on the front of the class where the teacher has started writing today’s lesson on the board—my hands fist in desperation. I’m dying for her to talk to me. To look at me. Anything. “Too bad, Lexie. I’ll scare every single one of those fucking entitled boys off. You’re going to sit alone in your house on prom night, crying into your designer sheets like a baby. And I’m going to enjoy it.” 

The only sign that she hears me at all is the quickening rise and fall of her shoulders. Even that tiny display that I’ve upset her is agonizing, floods me with self-loathing, but I can never stop. She ripped out my fucking heart, and I can’t deal with the consequences of that alone. I can’t let her go. I’ll never let her go. This toxic feeling is the only thing left between us. My hands shake with the urge to take her in my arms, to stop the trembling I caused. To protect her from everything. Even myself. I’d love to move my fingers up into the silky, brown hair that reaches the middle of her graceful neck. I don’t have a lot of money; most of the cash I earn as a handyman goes to food and fixing my dad’s cabin, but I’d give every last cent for her to turn and lock those soft brown eyes on me, just one last time. Sometimes when I jerk off, all it takes is fantasizing about Lexie looking at me, giving me one of those shy smiles, and I lose it. One stroke. Maybe two. Done. I can’t breathe without having her close. And I can’t breathe with her close. It’s a strange condition, this obsession, but she’s an addiction that I just can’t give up. 

How could I? She’s intelligent, strong, and so damned gorgeous. Once upon a time, I thought she had a good heart too. But that was before she broke my pathetic heart only because I’m poor. I’ve been hurting since then, and I need her to hurt too. To know what it feels.

“Do you actually think that dumb rich boy would be a good choice for your first time, Lexie?” I grip my desk so tight it nearly breaks down, just thinking about her being kissed –touched by someone else. “At least that’s one thing us poor motherfuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck. If you went out with Rys for a while, you’d eventually give in and come slumming it one night, wouldn’t you? Knock on my rundown cabin door, begging me to fuck you as we both know you’d like.”

A pretty blush is starting to climb her neck. I have to take a deep breath to keep from kiss her pink cheeks. But I think if I got to touch her skin, my wall of bullshit would crumble. I’ve only fucked one girl. Since seeing Lexie for the first time freshman year, there’s been no one but her. I want no one else. She owns my cock as sure as she owns my heart. How easily she’s forgotten about both leaving me in agony. 

“Stop,” she breathes. I freeze. Did she just speak to me? It’s the first time in two years that she’s even remotely acknowledged my existence. 

“Lexie,” I managed to say. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. That’s all it took. One pleading word out of her mouth, and I’m done. 

“Just stop,” she says again, turning her head slightly. “Please.” 

I fall back in my chair, my heart thundering on my chest. If we weren’t in the middle of class, if I didn’t feel like a monster, I would pull her into my arms right now. I’d hug her until she stopped struggling, then beg her to hit me, bruise me, make me pay for every shitty thing I’ve ever said to her. But before long, the class is over, and she’s leaving the classroom to get out of here. To put distance between us as quickly as possible—and I have no choice but to watch her because I feel physically ill. Still, I manage to get out into the student-packed hallway, my plan to apologize for being crude and a jerk and torturing her for so long. 

My head is telling me not to apologize, though. It’s telling me she deserved it for being such a snob, for breaking me, for valuing money and status like everyone else. My damned heart is telling an entirely different story. It’s insisting there is an explanation for her behavior. Am I going to apologize or not? The decision is taken out of my hands when Lexie opens her locker, and the little gift I left before class falls down. It’s a picture I cut out from our last yearbook. In the photo is a gorgeous smiling Lexie above the caption Most Likely to Succeed. Except I’ve crossed out the caption and added my own. Most Likely to Be a Trophy Wife. Watching her read it, I almost get sick right there in the hallway. Usually, she’s perfectly composed, not betraying a trace of emotion where I’m concerned—a real Ice queen. I’ve always thought she honestly didn’t care. Today, though… she’s not pulling it off. Something is not okay with her, and I don’t like it. She has to bite down on her bottom lip to stop it from quivering as she puts the photo back into her locker, out of sight, her bright eyes finding me briefly, massacring me where I stand. Betraying with one single look how much she has been affected by my actions. Christ. She hasn’t been indifferent at all.

Before I can react, before I can call her name, she’s gone, vanished into the crowd of wild students excited to be leaving for the day. And I know what I have to do. I have to see her. To apologize. To get an explanation for everything. Tonight. I’ll return to her house for the first time in two years.

LEXIE

I’ve known this was coming all day. Sitting on the couch in my living room, trying to make myself as small as possible, I watch my father pace. He rants, gesticulating noisily. This isn’t new, my father’s rage threatening me. But it’s going to be worse than usual. Business has declined for him and it’s put his temper on a trigger. Dad’s new wife, Nancy, hates to be on a budget, and she’s been spending his money like crazy all over Paris --where she’s now. When dad gets home from the office, he’s rarely in anything but a horrible mood. A tornado eating up everything in its path. Completely terrifying. At least dad’s temper makes me forget what Drake told me today, the ugly words he said to me, the boiling anger in his eyes when he looks at me. 

“Are you even listening?” The slap across the face comes as a shock because I’d momentarily disappeared into my thoughts, but the sting quickly brings me back to reality. 

“Yes, sir,” I say, my ears ringing. “I’m listening.” 

“This C on your algebra test is going to drag your whole average down.” He’s waving the test in my face. “What a disappointment you are, Alexis. Your teacher shared my disgust.” I nod solemnly, but I’m listening for the rain outside. “I guess you’re your daughter’s mother after all. A poor Mexican girl who could barely count.” It’s not true. My mom learned English and Greek by herself, and she was a great Spanish teacher in Portavira, but my father would rather die than acknowledge how smart she was. 

“Don’t talk like that about her,” I retort.

My father snorts. “I beg your pardon?” He takes a step towards me, and I can see the threat in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” I hate to be such a coward, but I know what he can do to me.” I’ll do extra credit. Something to bring my grade back up to an A.” I wet my lips. “Even if I can’t manage to raise the grade, it’s not going to show up on the college transcripts I sent off with my applications.” That’s the reason I let my focus slip a little in algebra. The finish line is in sight for everyone, and we’re just waiting to find out where we’ll be accepted for college. It’s a wonder I’ve been able to maintain my focus this long in any class, considering Walker sits behind me in every period, brooding making me feel … something. At the reminder of him, I want to close my eyes and dream about him. I replay that night in my garden when he kissed me two years ago, so tenderly and passionately, when he spoke to me so sweetly and honestly before he became the second villain in my story. Someone I dread, as much as I crave the sight of him.  

At least that’s one thing us poor motherfuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck. If you went out with that punk for a while, you’d eventually give in and come slumming it one night, wouldn’t you? Knock on my trailer door, begging me to ride you right. 

Should I be ashamed of the way my body reacted to those words? I grew uncomfortably damp in the hard plastic chair, the center of my body clenching, seeming to beat like a heart. His breath on my neck made me shiver, head to toe. Even the way he scared off Liam Rys did something to me. Aroused me. Deeply. It got so bad that I broke the rules and asked him to stop. I can still hear him saying my name in that tortured way after. That shocked, uneven sound. Lexie. And whether I’m ashamed of myself for it or not, I know I’ll think of it when I touch myself tonight. His voice, his hands, his eyes obsess me. 

“College?” My father snorts, tearing the test in half. “You’re not going to college.” 

This grabs my attention. A horrible feeling is making me cold. “I’m…what? What do you mean? I applied to nine different schools. I have a four-point five GPA.” 

For the first time, I notice his red face is about more than just rage. There’s…humiliation. I’ve never seen him display that emotion. 

“None of the American colleges that accepted you offered scholarships.” 

“I’ve been accepted?” I gasp, sitting forward, heart pounding in my chest. “Where? I didn’t see the letters—” 

“All the mail in this house goes through me, Alexis. I read them. And you failed to get academic scholarships. You failed. Not that I’m surprised.”

 I don’t point out that his refusal to let me participate in any extracurricular activities is more than likely to blame for that. I’m too worried about what he’s saying, what this means. The blood is draining from my head, making the room spin around me. 

“Okay, I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry. But…we have money. We can pay tuition, can’t we? Or colleges in Cordonia are almost for free. I can go to any of them; I don’t have to go to NYU.” I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here. This is my way out. College is the escape route. I counted on going back to New York, but I can stay here and go to college in Cordonia City. 

“Listen to you, so quick to spend my hard-earned money—spoiled brat. And of course, you can’t go to college in Cordonia. What for? To end up being a schoolteacher like your mom? A housewife as Nancy?” He laughs bitterly. “No, you’ll stay here, and I’ll help you find someone suitable to marry.” 

I shake my head. “There’s financial aid, then. Loans or I can get a job and go to college in Portavira…” 

“You want to leave, just like her, don’t you? You’re all the same.”

 I don’t even flinch when he yanks me to my feet, shoving me into the wall. In fact, for the first time, I took him right into his eyes. And I can see the violence burning on them has nothing to do with me. It never had anything to do with how I behave, my choices, how hard I worked in school. How welcome I made Nancy feel or cooked a roast. It’s about him and his self-loathing. It’s his sickness. Not mine. I can also see that he was never going to send me to college. Because he wouldn’t be able to control me from a distance or stop me from sharing what I’ve been subjected to since my mother died. Not like he does now. He wasn’t physically abusive all the time. Especially not when his new wife is around. But she traveled often, and then he’d push me. Shove me. Slapped me several times. I’ll graduate at the top of my class for nothing. He knew I would all along. 

That’s when I realize I’m free. I don’t have money, but college is free in Cordonia. I can work, save a little and go to college in one or two years. I’ll be a writer; it’ll just take more time than I thought. “Go to hell,” I whisper. 

He steps back, giving me the momentary satisfaction of his shock. “What did you say?”

Liberated, I scream it this time. “Go to hell!” From the moment I sat down to have this conversation, I knew tonight would be worse than usual, but I’ve just bought myself a ticket to hell. Usually, I can retreat to the untouchable place inside of me as he unleashes his rage, but not tonight. He doesn’t stop at one or two slaps. He punches and kicks, and I’m present for every punch and kick. Every yelled insult. Finally, I start to get scared. I’m crawling across the carpet on my hands and knees, searching for a weapon I can use in my defense when I glance out the window and see Drake staring back at me, his face a mask of horror.

 Drake

 What I’m seeing just isn’t possible. It can’t be real. My head won’t accept it. Not until her terror-filled eyes meet mine through the window and the truth pounds on my chest, leaves no doubt that this is real life. Lexie’s father is beating her. Her mouth is bloody, one of her eyes beginning to swell, arms and legs visibly weakened. I can barely fucking process it before my body is springing into action, desperate to protect her. To put a stop to the worst thing I have ever seen. What the fuck. Scorching hot rage takes over. I kick in the front door and throw myself between Lexie and her father. His fist is raised, but it pauses when he sees me, his momentary confusion giving me the time I need to knock him out cold. It only takes one right uppercut from someone his own size, and he goes down, his blank, glassy eyes staring at nothing, mouth opened. It’s not satisfying enough.

Nothing will ever be satisfying enough. I want to kill him, destroy him, but my Lexie is struggling for breath behind me, and she’s all I can think about. Turning, I approach her, my heart threatening to jump off my chest. As gently as I can, I catalog all of the cuts and purpling skin. No. No. Who could do this to her? Who could lay a finger on her in anything but reverence? Get her out of here. Calling her name, I reach down to pick her up, but she flinches and hurries back, bringing her body up against the wall. 

“Don’t touch me!” Those words filled with fear rip the soul clean out of my body. My hands drop limply to my sides and two years come rushing back, hitting me in the chest like a hammer. Every word, every action. Everything I did to make her life harder when this is what she’s been dealing with at home? Fuck me. 

“Lexie…” My voice is as kind as I can. I feel broken. “I’m sorry. I came here to apologize. For everything.” 

She puffs a humorless laugh, testing her cut lip with the tip of her tongue. “Bet you weren’t expecting to see this.” 

“If I knew this was happening, I would have been here a long time ago. I would have stopped it. I swear Lex.” 

Her expression can only be described as stunned. Maybe even a little pissed. “You are not my savior, Drake. You are my enemy. You’ve been for two years, and I want nothing else from you now.”

 “I am not your enemy.” Those words barely make it out of me, my chest hurts so fucking bad. “Don’t say that.” 

Unsteadily, she uses the wall to try and stand. I try to help her, but she recoils, and it’s a dagger straight into the center of my throat. Nothing less than I deserve, though, isn’t it? Her distrust of me is entirely my fault. I’ve made her hate me. There has to be some way to fix what I’ve done. Please God, let there be away. But right now, my main concern is her physical safety. Knowing she’s been in danger all along is unbearable. I only decided to come here tonight a few hours ago. What if I didn’t? What if I arrived an hour later? The possibilities are going to haunt me for the rest of my life. From the floor, her father groans, shifting slightly. 

“We need to get you out of here,” I say, anxious to get her free of this place. “Now, Lexie. I need to get you somewhere safe.” 

She’s standing now. Leaning against the wall and cradling one arm to her stomach, regarding me warily. “How do I know I’m safe with you?” It’s so much worse that her question is honest. Not meant to hurt me. She honestly doesn’t know if I pose a threat. It guts me where I stand. 

“You are the safest with me,” I say thickly, cursing myself. Wanting to erase the last two years so badly, my hands shake. “Please believe me. I’d die before hurting you. I’d never, Lexie. I’d never do something like that.” 

Her father rolls over onto his back and slurs a few words before losing consciousness again. Still, the sound of the older man’s voice seems to scare Lexie, “I…maybe you can just give me a ride to…a motel maybe?” She pushes off the wall, her step uneven as she walks toward the stairs. “I need some things from my room.” 

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her we don’t have time, but I’m just grateful she’s trusting me enough to leave with me, so I don’t argue. I just wait until she’s halfway up the stairs, then tie her father’s hands behind his back with my belt in case he wakes up before we leave. I have no problem knocking him out a second time, but Lexie has seen enough violence for one night. Cautiously, I walk up the stairs toward the light coming from a room halfway down the hall. This place is a far cry from my home. It’s elegant and clean, and tasteful, but it lacks any warmth whatsoever. It’s cold, like a museum. Turning the corner into Lexie’s room, it’s time to hate myself all over again. There is nothing on the walls, none of the expensive furnishings. Just four white walls, a bed, and a dresser that doubles as a desk. Several textbooks. She looks back at me over her shoulder as if judging my reaction, and I keep my features impassive, though I’m dying on the inside. 

“What can I do?” I ask. 

“How long do we have?” 

“As long as you need.” It’s physically painful not to pull her into my arms when I’m standing this close, and she’s hurt. Sad. Yet full of more inner strength than I’ve ever witnessed in another human being. I’m lucky just to be in her presence. I fucked up royally. And if she allows me back in, I’ll never do it again. It’s probably, definitely, too much to hope for. Being allowed back in. She doesn’t even look sure about having me in her room. Let alone her heart. I was trying to protect my own heart, but I lost it instead. 

 “Um…” She closes her eyes to focus, a familiar trait I’ve seen in class countless times. “There is a black bag in the hallway closet. Can you just stuff anything into it from the bathroom that looks useful?” 

Ask me to bring you a unicorn. I’ll find a way to do it. “Sure.” We work in silence, Lexie taking things out of drawers and adding them to the bag, which I’ve left open on the floor. I add toiletries from the bathroom, and once it’s zipped, I wait, watching her hesitate in the doorway. 

“Lexie?” Conflicted chocolate eyes meet mine. 

“I can’t just leave, can I?” 

“You’re not safe here, baby,” I say softly, trying to keep the residual rage at bay because it’s the last thing she needs. Not to mention she’s had her fill with negativity from me. No more. “How long…how long?” 

She shrugs, the saddest expression in her eyes. “My mom died five years ago. Ever since then, it’s gotten worse and worse. Although I never had a chance to talk to anyone about what happened behind closed doors, you know? I don’t think a person can evolve into a monster. It’s inside him.”

 “I don’t know,” I say. “I became one, didn’t I?” 

That gives her pause, forms a line between her delicate brows. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” 

She starts to walk past me, stops, standing close enough to fill my nose with cherry. “He told me if I ever spoke to you ever again, he would hurt me. Ruin you, have you evicted. Make sure you never got hired again. I didn’t mean to…hurt you. Or hurt your feelings, if that’s what happened.” 

That revelation destroys me, sets me on fire. “Jesus, Lexie. You were protecting me? And I…I tortured you for it?” I twist the neck of my T-shirt, trying to calm down, but it doesn’t work. I’ll never be calm again “I’m so fucking sorry.” 

She glances at the doorway, then back at me, eyes closed again in that way that says she’s thinking. “All I want from you now is a ride out of here, okay? And on Monday morning, you’ll stop.” She opens her shining eyes again. “No more bullying, Drake. If you’re really sorry, you’ll do that for me.” 

Fuck. I couldn’t say one more single shitty thing to her if my life depended on it. Put me at gunpoint, and I’d rather get shot at than torture this girl for one more second. But I’m highly, painfully aware that with an end to the bullying comes an end to the possessiveness. No more scaring off guys who show interest in her. No more getting close enough in class to count the hairs on her head, to smell her sweet fragrance. And to tell the truth, I’m pretty fucking worried I don’t know how to give those things up completely. I don’t think I can physically do it. This addiction with Lexie isn’t something I can cut off. A leg would be easier to sever. But my hesitation is causing her eyes to worry. If I don’t agree to, essentially, let her go… she’s not going anywhere with me. And that means her safety won’t be guaranteed. I need it to be. More than anything. 

“No more bullying,” I say, finally. A moment later, I follow her out of the room and down the stairs, trying desperately to count the hairs on her head before I no longer have the chance.

[99liners]

Since we got the Tatemae's men as father, how about Tatemae's OC as mothers? How would that go down?

ahahahaha i knew this would be the next question. i saw it coming 🤭

jeon aeira: the MILF 🤣🤣 i said what i said. she's the soccer mom but less competitive and more "i just want my babies to have fun." they are like her sweet haven ❤️. she would be a cool mom, would drive them around from sports/music practice. the babies' friends would all hit on her lol and then jk appears in the frame behind her,,, wearing a black half sleeve t-shirt,,, all his tattoos on display, the eyebrow with the piercing is perched up as he stares down at the scrawny little kid who is tryna hit on his wife and the kid runs for dear life lol after remembering that jk is a cop, he can and will hand his ass back to him. basically jeon boy has to be the subject of every "your mom" joke and its the only time he considers calling up his dad to genuinely come and beat up his friends.

kim tanaz: the kids are her anti-kth squad 😂 she is the cautious mom, always tryna make sure her baby is healthy. she is cool with everything as long her baby is safe and healthy and is living their best life. gets into fights with kth with how much he spoils them. hates when the baby catches that kth and her are fighting, always tries her best to make them understand that it's not a big deal and that everything is alright. she puts a lot of emphasis on the baby's mental health and would legit physically fight people if she has to in case someone hurts her baby in any way. she absolutely adores her baby(s). rolls eyes when kth's parents gush about how the baby resembles kth. scolds bestie aeira when she feeds their respective kids (who are besties) too much fast food lol.

park rei: i think rei would be the youngest mom in the tatemae universe. she'd be the nervous mom tbh, still learning the ropes. would legit start crying if she can't make her baby stop crying and pjm is all "doll, what happened?" and she looks at him crying, "i don't know what else to do! the baby won't stop crying. i fed them, burped them, walked around with them. did everything by the book but they won't stop crying. i don't know how to fix it" pjm basically would have two crying babies to soothe. rei would struggle a lot initially but once the baby starts growing up, she would be like their best friend. baby park might even call her "bro" lol and pjm is all "did you just call your mom bro???" although she's fine with it but won't tolerate it if the kid talks maybe disrespectfully to pjm "talk to your dad like that again and i am kicking you out." also none of the kid's friends believe that rei is their mom. "nah bruh, you tweaking. that ain't your mom." talk about adding on to pjm's insecurities.

kim aria: moon and aria are literally best friends, bruh. yes, aria had a hard time accepting reality when she was pregnant but from the moment moon was born and the obstetrician put the baby on her chest for the first time and aria saw her beautiful daughter, moon became her whole world. she is the calm and sweet mom. she is very mindful of moon's curiosity and always tries to keep it alive. she wants moon to be her own person, doesn't really care if she goes into STEM or not. loves reading shakespeare to her and they even enact short scenes from 'the merchant of venice' because of the sheer amount of times they have read the story. lol imagine, moon and aria going around the house, speaking dialogues in Elizabethan English verbatim, just laughing and playing around. oh, joon's heart swells up tenfolds at the sight. she would also have fights with joon when he would put moon in all the AP classes but would also pull up all-nighters with moon to finish all her homework/projects.

jung dany: she is the rich™ mom. all the other kids' moms are so jealous of her. she would be both hyuk's best friend and the strict mom. extremely dislikes it when the jung family calls up hyuk to spend time with them. makes it a habit to always accompany him to the villa cause deep down she's always scared that the family will take her baby boy away from her. would openly detest any sorts of traditions expected of hyuk. always making excuses for him to her in-laws, "he has extra classes today, he can't come." "he's spending chuseok with his friends this year." also, hyuk and her always be bitching together about the jung family 😂 imagine hoseok walking in and the mother-son duo stop laughing at once. hoseok is all "what's so funny guys?" and hyuk makes up some story from school which is obviously beyond hoseok's sense of humour. the moment hoseok walks away from hearing range, they start bitching and laughing again lol.

min shiza: she would be the most regular and normal mom but would also end up spoiling her child owing to the fact that she literally has no one else. her pregnancy period went smoothly enough and she was probably the happiest on the birth of her child than she has been in the longest time. she would be the type who constantly talk to their babies irrespective if the baby can understand or speak. she would love talking to her baby, telling them stories and sometimes even talking in that sing-songy voice. weirdly enough, she would also try for yoongi to have more interactions with the baby. sneaky yoongo thinks shiza does not see it when he is alone with the baby and spending quality time but shiza knows and it makes her happy. sometimes, she can become a bit too protective, would not allow the kid to get too close to juyun or the driver or anyone who directly works for yoongi but would love to host the girls over so the baby can make friends. she is very chill otherwise, no bars on going out and stuff as long as the kid returns by curfew.

kim inaya:

[faerienextdoor]

general relationship hcs with (some) pastas

Fair warning, I'm using and hinting at mine and my friends’ writing for these creeps :) enjoy  also as soon as i figure out how to open an ask box, I’ll be accepting requests

Brian:

- oh where to start with this absolute himbo

- he melts around you. like he's your bitch, and you're his.

- he's the type of boyfriend that takes you out in the snow and shoves a handful down the back of your jacket, and laughs until you shove snow in his face

- it is snow war

- it ends with you cuddling him, wrapped in a blanket and content in front of the burning fire he got started just for you <3

- but he also has some weird... habits.

- drinks pickle juice.

- gets his hand stuck in the jar.

- looks at you like 🥺 until you sigh and help him. for the fifteenth time.

- he can cook some basic breakfast foods, and happily breaks out a cookbook to prepare you something as a surprise or to learn something with you!!

- baking with him would be a mess. he forgets flour goes everywhere and now you both look like you took a bath in cocaine

- but the cupcakes are mediocre at best. they aren't absolute garbage, so... cupcake points!

- he worries about how hoodie treats you. he doesn't remember anything when he regains control, but you've reassured him hoodie is just fine.

- and he is

(hoodie)

- hoodie is like a rottweiler or a doberman.

- protective. intimidating. energetic.

- but also a giant fucking baby.

- this large ass man lumbers over and drops to his knees. places his chin on your lap and stares at you from the fabric of his mask until you stop what you're doing and stroke his head awkwardly

- you could swear he does those happy grumbled a rottie does.

- hoodie is silent but shows he loves you just as much as brian does. He strokes your hair silently, even places a kiss to the crown of your head as you sink into his beefy arms.

- he smells nice too. surprisingly.

- but that raises the question: if hoodie showers, does he shower with that damn thing on?

- you won't get an answer if you were to ask.

- brian introduces you to his grandma julia. and she dotes on you.

- the immortal old lady remarks that you’re the best s/o brian has brought to her yet.

Tim:

- a lumberjack man with biceps like a fucking tree trunk

- how'd you land him? give me your secrets (/j)

- he's such a love bug. a tired stressed love bug.

- he finds /every/ excuse to have physical contact with you. it's like a little touch from you reassures him that you're real. you're like a dream to him.

- he's the best for cuddles. He holds you to his chest

- and you get special access to his moobs

- and he gently strokes your head, traces shapes into your back, etc. it's a special intimate moment each time.

- my man's is italian-american but can't cook to save his fucken life

- he always gets your favorite microwave meals though!! he never forgets.

- not feeling good? dw baby he's making it for you <33 shitty low tier bean and cheese burrito coming up

- slowly he learns the basics and surprises you with lunch or even dinner if you're lucky!!

- he loves you so much. and wants you to feel it and know it. all the time.

(masky)

- god where to start with this bitch

- he's not jeff levels of bad ofc, but he's silent and... weird. creepy, some may say. he doesn't mean to be.

- and he's a hard ass. far more strict than tim.

- he follows you around like a giant fucken puppy and will spook you by grabbing you abruptly and holding you tightly

- you can't escape him. he really utilizes his physical strength

- he loves lifting you up and just... holding you. or carrying you off.

- protective and overbearing.

- but tim keeps him under control.

(angst)

- he wouldn't want to lose you like he lost his last wife.

- you find pictures of a woman laying around and a small girl that bears a striking resemblance to her and tim.

- tim goes quiet and questioned but eventually caves and tells you about his family

- or what he used to have

- his wife died and his daughter disappeared.

- it broke him and you're all he has left now

- constantly needs your affection in return to his own

- pls love him

jeff:

- why the fuck would you date him

- he's the absolute worst in so many aspects. But he genuinely tries for you.

- even if his gifts are shitty, it's nice to know he thoughts of you, right? even if it's a half dead flower or a rib torn from a deer caraccas.

- but you get the butt end of his shithead antics. ranch bath, specifically. he smelt like spoiled milk for a week after and you had to cuddle that fucker.

- and don't get me started on mayo bath

- but he still loves finding himself in your arms. or finding you in his. he's demanding affection wise, and will yank you into him for some cuddles. whether you like it or not.

- he isn't one for a lot of pet names, but calls you curse words or "sweetheart" in polish.

- and you get to see the side of him that only shows when he breaks down.

(bit of angst)

- he misses his family and the life he used to have. he'll reminisce what it was like in poland with his mom and family with you, and you sometimes swear you can see his brown eyes gloss over at the memory of her.

- he never talks about his dad, you've noticed.

- don't ask.

- he brushes off heavy conversations with some dumb quip ("wanna see my renegade?")

- he sucks at cooking. god awful at it. but he really tries for you. manages a bowl of oat meal that's edible.

- but he overloads it with sugar and for some reason, salt.

- he's confused. he thinks that's normal (it isn't)

- his idea of a date is napping with you. or rather, forcing you into nap time.

- I mean it when I say this man is strong in a weird fucken way. latches onto you with that iron grip and you won't be able to leave for at least a few hours.

jane:

- ethereal wlw woman.

- could break you with her heels. or a flutter of what eyelashes she has.

- you're lucky to have her, and she's just as lucky to have you!

- she's sweet and charming. very smooth and takes good care of you.

- her love language is a mix of physical touch and acts of service.

- she'll cuddle you all night, and then make you breakfast in the morning.

- she loves showering with you when she's comfy enough around you! it's super intimate and she washes your hair.

- massages the soap into your hair, suds spilling down your neck and back as her fingers scrub circles into your scalp.

- it's heaven on earth. such a domestic life.

- it'll take a while for her to settle enough in the relationship for you to see her without her mask

- you make her feel so loved and wanted

- secure, even.

- she's protective but not controlling or overbearing. shes that type of girlfriend that's just a worrywart and relaxes as soon as you're curled up in her arms. you fit there perfectly, too. like you belong there.

- which you do. at least in her mind

- she has such a gentle touch and hold on you. like she's afraid you'll combust in her arms if she holds you too tightly.

- she loves stroking your hair and having you nap

- using her tiddies as a pillow 👌

(angst)

- she needs affirmation from you when it comes to her scars.

- she thinks that jeff ruined her. permanently marking her once spotless body.

- and she thinks you'll hate her or find her disgusting.

- that's why she freezes if/when you gently slip off her mask.

- she stares at you with those teary green eyes. then leans in and kisses you

- you make all of her worries disappear.

- she's also financially comfortable, but not really rich (on that topic: eat the rich)

- she spoils you every chance she gets. gifts, a nice dinner date, you name it

- she almost spoils you as much as she does her cat Emory

- little shit has the sparkliest fucken collar and acts like he's the shit

- he's your fur baby too now

Helen:

- oh my god this disaster of an art boi

- he's convinced he's the luckiest man in the world (and he might as well be!!)

- he obviously wouldn't have been the one to confess. but it was really obvious by how he painted and drew you constantly, that some feeling for you was lodged into his beating heart.

- he treats you like the finest china. with the most care a man can manage.

- he's the definition of clingy and affectionate from the very start.

- he curls around your sleeping form perfectly when y'all cuddle.

- his hand dances in your hair, soothing you into a dreamless sleep each night without fail.

- he has a magic touch and a gentle voice.

- and he cherishes you so fucken much. (like a simp /j)

- he shies away from kisses at first, but will hold your hand and melts if you hold his face in them!!!

- he's greek, and often speaks sweet things to you in it. he's so comfortable around you that he speaks in his native language to you. that's an accomplishment.

- he loves when you baby him. helen loves being cradled and loved.

- taking a nap with his head on your chest also hits different. he's so in love with you

(angst)

- he's afraid of losing you. who wouldn't be? you're amazing and you love /him/ of all people

- he thinks very negatively of himself. please scold him for self deprecating.

- he always worries he'll wake up and you'll be gone.

- so he holds you extra close at night. and follows you around when you leave for any reason. Trails behind you like a lost puppy in need of a gentle kiss.

- which, is what he essentially is

- and also: pls steal his sweater and wear it. he'll cry over how cute you are.

[moonlit-mizukage]

Chapter Fifteen: 1am Joyride

Summary: Y/l/n Y/n, a third year at Sakura High School, is just a girl with a bad attitude towards anyone outside her small circle. When y/n’s younger sister starts first year, she gains a lot of attention. Unfortunately for everyone in school, the Y/l/n household has one rule, No dating till y/n does. Some people become just desperate enough to pay the leader of the “Monsters”, the trouble making group on campus, to date y/n. What will happen when she finds out? (All characters aged up to third year unless otherwise stated)

TW: Swearing, mentions of violence, implied past abuse, parents not loving their children, abandonment, foster care, jail, death 

AN: THIS CHAP IS A BACK STORY SO IF YOU ARE UNCOMFY I WILL POST A SMALL LINE FROM THEN END OF THISON THE NEXT ONE AS WELL!!! Sorry as well for not updating lots. Yeah girl has been dissociating so much and losing days. I blinked and now its friday at almost 3am. My  even closes as well on the 21st so if you want to participate please check out this Prompt list!!

Word Count: 1.2K

________________________________________________________________

Y/N POV 

I heard the rev of Tendou’s motorbike outside my window. I grabbed my jacket and Climbed out my open window.  I took the lightest steps I could around and passed Mei’s window. I grabbed the tree and started to climb down. I walked up to Tendou. 

“You look hot when you are angry babe.” 

“Gross, let’s just get out of here.” I grabbed the helmet from his hands as I climbed on the back. 

We rode down the rural neighbourhoods of the city. I never felt more relaxed than I did in that moment, my arms wrapped around him, the wind blowing on my body  as we rode off. I wanted this moment to last. We soon stopped as Tendou reached for his helmet. 

“This is my thinking spot. It’s usually quiet this time of night.” I took my helmet off and stepped off the bike. 

“I didn’t expect you to be of all people to need a thinking spot. Though you just Monster listed them.” 

“Unfortunately there's things the Monsters can’t always help with.” The atmosphere around him seemed to change to somewhat of a depressing vibe. 

“I really liked being on the bike. I didn’t even notice we ended up going up a hill to this lookout point.” 

“I knew you’d be distracted once you got to touch me.” He said with a wink as he pulled me into his arms. Our lips almost touched as he whispered. “Everytime I see you, you get more beautiful.” 

“Gross.” I whispered back as we both went in for a kiss..

Tendou’s phone startled us as he pulled away.

“What is it?” He asked as he answered the phone. A few minutes of silence passed. 

“No, I am at the lookout point. Can’t he just lie like he always does?” A deep sigh came from him as he heard the response. 

“Just give him my special stash and tell him to give it to her only if she won't come back. Shes a fucking bitch anyways. No one is at a loss by this. What’s a few couple hundred to get a forever problem solved?” Tendou laughed at whoever was on the other side of the phone and hung up.

“Sorry Y/n. Monster shit never stops when Teru”s one time hook ups won’t stop coming back.” 

“I don’t understand why you covered his ass. He’s going to act like a pig. He should deal with it on his own.” I slapped a hand over my mouth “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” 

“I know you aren’t the only one who sees it that way but Teru and Mad have been here for me always. We used to be little brats back in our elementary days too. Teru was actually a Quiet little devil at first. I do admit we definitely have opposite opinions on girls' purpose. He did watch his mom go through boys every other day some new guy railing her in the kitchen when he got home from school. His mom told him if the sex isn’t an 10 then they are not worth it” 

“How would he even know what a 10 is?’’ 

“I think he just does it to feel some kind of connection to a girl. In hope’s to find ‘The one’, he just wants to be loved and accepted by someone. He knows he's got us but he’s never felt loved by his mom, doesn’t even know who his dad is.” 

“I had no idea, I feel terrible now” I said back to him. He pulled me closer to him again as he rested on the rail. 

“He’s honestly such a good guy. All four of them are. Mad gets in a lot of fights because that's all he knew his entire childhood from his 3 older brothers used to fight him. His dad was about the same in that sense too. The reason he always punches instead of thinks before he acts is that is what he's been taught. He moved out of his house at 16 after we got some income and met the other two. Started to raise some hell in our school you know?” 

“It makes sense why he always tries to fight everyone then.”I said back.

“Hanamaki though is a rich kid whose parents would rather pretend he doesn’t exist. He lived with his grandma on the other side of Tokyo till she passed away in the last year of middle school. Now they buy him whatever he wants while they live who knows where in the world. Him and Matsukawa have been friends since elementary though, Matsun even followed him to Highschool cause he got expelled the last day of school for setting a classroom on fire smoking too close to some curtains. Matsukawa though also didn’t have a good upbringing. His mom left him at 2 years old outside a random house with a note saying she never wanted him. It took 4 years for him to find his father, by then the kid already had some damage because of the system. His dad worked too much to see it for himself though. That just made his choice to move in with Maki much easier for him. That's how we all kinda met though, our broken homes.” Tendou finished, as he turned away and looked out at the view. 

“What’s your story Satori?” I asked him. 

“My father’s in jail, my mother is dead.” 

“Holy shit, I am so sorry Satori.” 

“I spent most of my childhood jumping from foster home to foster home. I was a demon spawn though. Always making sure they would move me around. Getting my nickname Guess Monster cause no one knew what I would do next. I live with my grandma now.” He said.

“I am sorry I always called you the second biggest asshole on earth. I had no idea.” He just laughed knowing I meant Oikawa as number one. 

 “And how about you y/n? What’s your story?”

“Um, my mom left us for a guy in Paris when I was young. I was basically raising Mei as my child, with my father being a doctor he's usually never home. Well till I started dipping on her for Oikawa. Now she hates my guts and my father spoils her so much cause he feels bad about missing out so much.” 

“Wait Oikawa? I thought you always hated him” He said. I began to explain to him the same story I had told Mei earlier the night. “I always knew he was a piece of shit.” 

“If only Mei did. That’s why we fought too.” Tendou pulled me in closer again. He smiled at me as he gave his signature smile. 

“It’s nice to have someone to trust outside of my circle again.” He pulled me into a passionate kiss….

The night continued for a bit longer as he brought me back home once again. I got off his bike and looked down at him as he took his helmet off and stood up. 

“Satori.” 

“Yes Y/n?”

“You were right, I did fall for you.” With that I placed a passionate kiss on his lips again. I pulled away and turned around to begin to climb back into my house...

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