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iwriteyanderes2023 · 10 months ago

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Yandere Socialite (Fem! Yandere x Fem! Reader)

Divider credits: @/anitalenia

Trigger warning: Violence, drama between friends, profanity usage, yandere themes, name-calling, sexual harassment, power abuse. Choking, pet play, humiliation, drugging, sexual scenes, bondage play, female on female

(8941 words)

You regretted agreeing to this.

Your friends were raving about this massive party, where all the hottest celebrities and the wealthy go to flaunt or make a fool out of themselves. Obviously, it was an exclusive event, no mere commoners could simply walk in. To enter, it's either paying an extravagant fee or be (in)famous enough. Which, you were neither.

They claimed to know how to sneak in, undetected by the burly bouncers that you would rather not be the receiving end of their anger. It made sense to have some tight security, it is taking place in someone's mansion; someone's home, after all.

You, being new in this city and desperate to make connections to you could advance your career, said yes. You stupidly said yes, put on your best clubbing outfit and makeup, and went through with your friend's plan to slip in through one of the back doors while the other distracted whoever was around to hinder the plans.

Which leads you to be lost in a seemingly unending maze of hallways, you don't know where the other girls went and you don't know where you are. There wasn't a single soul wandering around the carpeted floor and chandeliered ceilings. Elegant paintings of men and women in dignified poses seem to peer at you in disgust; a filthy commoner dressed like a tramp. You didn't belong here, and it's only a matter of time before you were thrown into jail thanks to the recorded footage from the surveillance cameras you're sure were pointed at you.

You covered your arms with your hands as you moved onward, cussing under your breath about how silly it was to wear a ridiculously tall heel. It's already giving you blisters, so you decide to take them off and walk barefoot; silently and dryly sobbing about how humiliating this feels.

You continued trundling on, periodically looking back and trying to see where the life of the party is at so you could at least witness how it's like. Perhaps make a few connections, but you think that's unlikely. Most of them are probably drunk out of their mind or high off coke to care.

Actually, what are you even doing here? You're supposed to be networking at a classy, evening soiree, not a rich boy's messy party!

Before you could sigh again, you were interrupted by the sounds of yelling in a room nearby.

"Get off me, fucker!" You heard an enraged feminine voice shout out before the sounds of crashing reached your ears. Groaning could be heard as you assume the other party was shuffling to get up.

"You fucking bitch!" Retorted a masculine voice, followed by more stumbling. "What the hell is wrong with you!?"

"We're over. Get the fuck out of my sight!" She yelled, but it doesn't sound like she was too hurt over it. It's more anger if anything.

"What...? Just like that?! After everything that I've done-"

"All you did was embarrass me over and over again! Like, does it kill you to take a shower? Does it kill you not to be an entitled, gross loser all the time?"

You inched closer to the door and discreetly poked your head in. You saw the back of a woman with the most gorgeous blond hair draping down to her tailbone. She's wearing a silver sequin dress that barely covers the fold of her bum.

The male, slightly drunk and injured from the shove with debris around him, was glaring at the blonde.

"Shut up, slut! If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't get to live like this!" He threateningly pointed at her, but she didn't budge.

"Oh? You mean that monthly allowance of fifty bucks from you? Please, I pick up my dogs' crap with it. That's how worthless you are to me, I'm only tolerating you because I'm doing your mommy a favour." She fought back, her words enraged the man even further.

"You can forget the deal our families had! I'll make sure the Maciovelli name goes to shit, you will be living on the streets before you know it!" He yelled right in front of her face, getting up close and personal; and having his stray spit hit her. She merely wiped them away.

"Ugh, you're insufferable. Whatever, I'd like to see you try, bitch." She hissed before shoving him away again.

But this proved to be a dangerous move, as it provoked the man to lunge and swing his arm at her. Luckily though, it seems she has predicted it and dodged his attack on time.

You had to do something! And so, you looked around as the pair went on to physically fight. Though, it's more like she's doing all the defense while he does the offense. Sometimes blocking his hits with her red handbag.

There is a vase nearby, decorated with intricate, hand-painted flowers. Without thinking, you picked it up and chucked it at the man. The antiquity of that piece of art be damned, that woman is in danger and you have to do something to help her!

She visibly jolted when it flew past some strands of gold and crashed onto her assailant's head, spraying shards everywhere and making small cuts on her legs. He was thrown backward and rendered unconscious almost immediately.

The woman whipped her head back to see the source of it, staring at you with wide, baby-blue eyes. You stared back at her breathtakingly stunning face; she had thin, sharp brown eyebrows that accentuated her fox-like eyes. Long, black eyelashes framed her iris as smokey makeup made her eyes look much bigger and lively. Her lips were glossy and in a shade of pastel pink, with a dusting of sparkly glitter.

You stammered, not knowing what to do or say. You're not even supposed to be here. So you remained silent as you and her continued this staring contest, the woman's eyes were scrutinizing you from head to toe.

She began walking towards you, her heels menacingly clicking against the marbled floor of that room. You felt a surge of panic course through you, so you took a few steps back.

Only to be grabbed by the shoulder by someone else behind you. Chills ran down your spine when you heard the familiar sound of a walkie-talkie beeping. "I found one of the trespassers."

You started panicking even more, speaking erratically to try and defend your case. But the security officer wouldn't hear it, instead restraining you and pulling you away from the scene. You thrashed and screamed, not wanting to get caught and end your life as soon as it started. "I need backup!" Shouted the guard into his device as he tried to wrangle you into his grip.

You shouldn't have agreed to them, look what it has gotten you into. Your life is so over, you're going to be shoved into a jail cell and forced to move back to where you came from. If only you could-

"Hey, you fatass!" You saw her red, crescent handbag whack the officer in the arm, he flinched in surprise. "Hands off my best friend! And who the fuck do you think you are, calling her a trespasser!?"

A look of surprise crosses his face. "Miss Maciovelli? She's with you?" The officer took a look at you, there wasn't an aura of money emanating from you, not like how the woman was.

You looked back at the woman, now putting her hands on her hips. An irate expression adorns her face, "Um, yeah? I just said it, are you fucking slow? Let her go right now!" She demanded, raising the volume of her voice as her patience was running thin.

He sighed and released his hold on you. The man brought his walkie-talkie up to his mouth and said that it was a false alarm and that there wasn't a need for more of them to come over. They should focus on finding the rest of the intruders, which you can guess that they were referring to your friends.

"I'm sorry, Miss Maciovelli-"

"Yeah, you better be." She spat as she hooked her arm around yours. "Insulting my girl like that- why don't you all actually do your jobs and kick the real troublemakers out? Like that pig there, taking a nap on the floor. He tried to hit me and my best friend!" The blonde pointed her ivory-white acrylic nail to her bleeding ex, who seemed to be slowly regaining consciousness.

His eyes widened as he seemed to recognize the waking man. "O-oh! That's-!"

Before he could finish his sentence, the woman dragged you away from the scene. Pushing you by the shoulders and pulling you by the hand. You looked behind you to see the security guard entering the room while frantically speaking into his walkie-talkie.

"You're new. What's your name?" You were snapped out of your frazzled trance when she spoke. Her pace was slowing into a leisurely walk when she deemed it safe enough. The blonde's arm was still linked around yours, though.

Her baby blues curiously stared at you, all that malice and rage she held earlier was gone. Replaced with friendliness with a bit of wariness.

You told her your name and stumbled over your words trying to explain your situation as fast as possible. You made sure to thank her for saving you.

"Your friends are gross for abandoning you like that." She scowled. "I hate fake bitches like them, they should like, get shot in the head or something."

Your mouth gape open at her extreme remarks. Is this how socialites usually talk?

You defended your friends, telling her that they didn't abandon you. They probably just lost you as everyone scrambled to hide from security.

"Yeah, you're definitely new here. They knew what they were doing. You came with five others, at least one should be hiding from security with you." She brought you into a grandiose bathroom. The blonde finally lets you go and approaches the vanity. "Those sluts used you."

Miss Maciovelli pulled a tube of lip gloss from her mini handbag and began doing touchups. You simply watched her, not knowing what to say. Well, you should have seen it coming. Big city dwellers are known to be cutthroat, and you just met them.

"Sorry babe, but that's the reality here." She smacked her lip and wiped away any imperfections with her thumb.

You scratched the back of your head. You asked her if she could show you the exit, it's been a long night and you want to go home.

"You don't wanna stay for a little?" She asked, turning to you. "You're hot, I'm sure you'll have fun. I'll get rid of those snakes for you, if that's what's holding you back."

You shook your head, feeling exhausted after everything you went through today. You asked her if she's going back to the party, wherever that may be in this mansion.

"Duh." She bobbed her head.

There was a pregnant pause between the two of you. Until she decided to fish her phone out.

"Number." She extended her hand and brought her phone, numpad side to you.

You picked it up and entered your phone number. It's saved under your name, but you doubt that she will remember you after today.

"Oh, so that's how you spell it." She mumbled, looking at the contact name.

You watch her keep her device away before fixing her hair in the mirror again. She used a nail to adjust her eyelashes.

"Okay, let's go." She linked her arm around yours again, escorting you out of the bathroom.

You and she walked past numerous rooms and halls, some had excited shouts coming from them, some had salacious moaning and some had loud booming music. When you were nearing the core of the alcohol-fueled rave, the noise from massive speakers was nearly unbearable. You even had to cover your ears in order not to blow your drums out. But the woman didn't even flinch, she continued strutting along with you in tow.

You saw men and women feverishly dancing along to the beat, the surroundings were dark and illuminated by colorful strobe lights. Good thing you weren't epileptic.

"Heyy..."

You turned your head to see one of your friends. She's wasted beyond belief. "You... you made it! C'mere, I want you to meet-"

"Fuck off, whore!" Barked Miss Maciovelli, she yanked you along with her. Ignoring the expletives coming out from your friend's slurring mouth.

You asked if that was really necessary.

"Yep. They won't get the hint if you're this nice." She answered. "They'll keep trying until you're dragged down to their level. Don't ever disrespect yourself like that." She sternly warned you.

All you could do was nod meekly.

Eventually, you reached the exit. It's as grand and fancy as it was on the inside. You see a massive water fountain in the middle of a looped road. Yet, no cars could be seen but there were hoards of security milling around.

"Wait here." She left you on the marble steps as she approached a uniformed staff member. You watched them exchange some words before she marched back to you.

You thought that this was the end of your meeting with her. So you told her thanks and bid her goodbye while referring to her as Miss Maciovelli. She scrunched her nose up in disgust.

"Ew. That's so fake. Don't call me that." She crosses her arms over her chest, and you can see pale tan lines on her skin.

You asked what you should call her instead.

"Mercedes." She replied immediately. "You know, the car."

You told her that it's a beautiful name. She smiled and flipped her hair.

You told her that you better get going, it's late. Mercedes narrowed her eyes at you and grabbed your wrist.

"And how are you going to do that? It's an hour's drive from here to the city."

You said you were going to take the bus, that's how you got here in the first place. Worst come to worst, you would call a cab.

She shook her head defiantly.

"I'm driving you home, no way am I trusting those weirdos to bring you anywhere."

You told her that you would be fine and that you didn't want to be a hassle. To that, she rolled her eyes.

"Ugh, shut up." Mercedes punched your arm playfully.

A hot pink convertible then rolled up in front of the two of you. Its headlights are heart-shaped, you thought it was cute. "Miss Maciovelli?" Said the parking Valet.

"C'mon, don't be difficult." She urged you to get in through the passenger's side.

"This is your place?" She asked with a tone of incredulity. "Looks... plain."

You wouldn't call it plain. It's small but cozy. It's also all you can afford at the moment with your job, that's why you were planning to network around to get better opportunities.

"Hm." She hummed, releasing her grip on her pink, fluffy steering wheel to fix her hair.

You got out of her car and said goodbye. She didn't say a word but watched you get to the front door.

You look behind you to see her staring, so you wave bye. But she neither budged nor returned the gesture. Simply staring at you like a hawk. Feeling a bit creeped out, you went into the lobby.

Only then did she drive away. What a strange woman.

You sighed and trudged to the lift, pressing the button and resting your forehead on the cold, metallic panel. Well. There goes your only contacts in the city, they're all not good for you.

You didn't even get to know Mercedes's number, so until she texts you first, you're completely alone.

The lift opened to reveal no one. As usual. You don't think you've seen your neighbors yet, thinking they're either avoiding you, extremely busy, or extremely reclusive. Or living in an entirely different timezone.

When you reached your room, you decided to boot up your computer. While waiting for it to be functional, you did something else; preparing the things you need for a relaxing bath and boiling some water for tonight's five-star dinner: instant noodles.

You spent the night researching Mercedes, only searching her first name predictably bringing up results of the luxury car brand with the same name. But as soon as you searched for Mercedes Maciovelli, you began learning a lot about her.

She is the heiress of a very successful, multi-billion conglomerate company. Her family owns more businesses than you can count in two hands, they're also huge and famous companies. Banks, grocery stores, and even planes. It's scary how her family possesses this much power. That was such a silly thing for her ex to say, that if it wasn't for him, she would have been in poverty. Maybe it was just the heat of the moment.

However, she is no stranger to paparazzi as she frequently mingles with high-profile celebrities, gets into physical altercations, and goes wild in nightclubs. She is nothing like what was expected of her as someone who grew up in "old money". She's associated with words like "bitchy", "fiesty", "trashy" and "Messy". Whereas her peers barely have any information available about them online, they stay out of trouble and act too elegant for the paparazzi and tabloids to take any interest.

The most interesting bit about Mercedes was her dating life. Your eyes bulged out of your skull, seeing the seemingly unending list of boyfriends she had over the years. It's almost like she has a new one every month, but there are never repeats. Articles, gossip pieces, and smear forums about Mercedes are just so prevalent, that you think you're getting a cramp on your finger by just scrolling your mouse.

In the end, you're sick of seeing the public bash the blonde. It gets old and you're becoming tired. Perhaps aging has already caught up to you, but you cannot stay up past 12.

You decided to shut your computer off and head to bed.

It's been a few days since that party. Your "friends" kept texting you, trying to get you to join one more of their trespassing escapades. You gave them excuses upon excuses because you're not interested in such a lifestyle.

"Aw, don't be such a lame-o," Drawled one of the girls as she shook your shoulder. "Come on, it'll be fun! You had fun!"

The other girls continued egging you on in this expensive cafe. You were already uncomfortable meeting them here, as you can barely afford the cheapest of their pastries. At least the ambiance looks amazing in photos. If only you owned a digital camera...

You let out a nervous chuckle as you tried to decline as much as you could without offending them.

"There's another one tonight! You should totally come with us, I got like, the routes and everything already!"

"Yeah, think of the cute guys that's going to be there!"

"OMG, I heard Retro Rhymes are going to be there!"

"Really!? The rapper!?"

You sighed as they chatted amongst themselves. You silently picked at your muffin with your fork, that was the cheapest thing on the menu and the price was enough to give you eight of these back home.

Eventually, they must have forgotten your existence. Because they continued talking until they left the building. Not saying a bye or sparing a glance in your direction. Leaving you to sit at your table alone and brooding.

Well. You shouldn't expect much when it comes to friendships here. Many people come to the city solely to make money and have fun, after all. Not so much finding true, lifelong connections.

You took a sip of your black coffee. Again, the cheapest thing you could get from there. You couldn't even afford sugar or milk with it.

Suddenly, a manicured hand slammed a cup onto your table, shocking you and making you accidentally spill some of your drink onto your blouse.

"You should try this, it's so good. Way better than your boring-ass black coffee, I bet." You recovered from your initial shock to crane your head up to see Mercedes staring down at you from above, her soft, golden hair falling to your face.

You greeted her, asking what she was doing here.

"I could ask the same of you, seeing that you're pretty broke. But I saw how you still hung out with those sluts even after I told you not to." She cocked an eyebrow as an unimpressed look crossed her face.

Today, she wears a simple, lacey crop top and a pair of low waisted jeans. You got to know that she had her belly button pierced.

You sighed once more, burying your face in your hands. You told her you don't have a choice, it's a cold world out here and you need someone to fulfill that human need for socialization. Now that you have calmed down, you decided to take a better look at the drink she gave you.

It's a tall, plastic cup with a dome cover. It's an ice-blended, creamy mocha with chocolate syrup drizzled on the sides of the cup. It has a healthy dollop of whipped cream on top and a thick straw is sticking out of its opening.

"Um, hello? You have me." She moved away from you and took a seat next to you, she ordered the same thing. Mercedes shook it around before taking a sip. "You don't need them anymore, I'll be showing you the ropes."

You thought about it for a while. There is definitely a non zero chance that she will play you like a fiddle, but it's much better to have someone high up there in the hierarchy. Even though she isn't necessarily a mature businesswoman yet, you would still have a better chance to brush shoulders with relevant people. Not... Partygoers.

So then, you agreed. Picking up your cup and taking your first sip.

It was tooth-rotting. It was good, but you knew if it wasn't for sugar, this cup would not even be filled to half. The sheer sweetness of the treat made you grimace and pucker.

"What? Don't like it?" She asked, looking bored.

You said it was nice, but a bit too sweet.

"That's the point. I like it sweet." She took another sip from her drink. "Keeps me full for hours."

You... Don't think that's how it works. Isn't it usually the opposite effect? Whatever.

For the next few hours, you and her chat about almost everything and anything. Ranging from each other's histories, to each other's interests, to oddly philosophical questions and personal views on things. There were quite a few differences between you and Mercedes- obviously so, as she was raised by the uber rich and you were raised by... Your guardians, but you liked how she kept her mind open and was non-judgemental about you.

It was refreshing, really. Someone you could somewhat be real with, unlike your previous set of friends where you had to put on the most guarded mask in order not to feel like a pathetic lowlife around them.

You were curious about her dating habits, but you think it's rude to ask about it this early on in the friendship. Plus, it never came up, so you decided to save that question for another day. You bet if she's willing to open up, it will take more than just a few hours.

It's getting late, you should leave.

So you stood up, secretly in disbelief at how you finished the entire thing of diabetes. You told Mercedes that you have work tomorrow and you're going to need to leave soon.

She frowned. "Boo. Boring."

You said that you have to be "boring", you don't have her type of money.

"And it's literally just six in the evening. It's not like it's six in the morning or something." She huffed.

You said you have been in this cafe for seven hours.

"They don't close til 10."

Still, you have to get back home. You're tired.

She stuck her tongue out at you.

"Fine. But I'm driving you home."

You said there isn't a need for her to do that, you could take the bus.

"Let's go, you need your beauty sleep." She ignored you and grabbed you by the arm, pulling you along with her so quickly that you struggled to keep up.

Weeks would go by and you would meet Mercedes every Sunday in a different cafe of her choosing. And these meetings would increase in frequency each week, to a point where you were eating all three meals with her daily. She would always foot the bill and refused to let you pay for anything, talking about how you're so poor, that you're probably fighting rats for the scraps at the bottom of the dumpster. It's an absolute win for you; no cooking involved and you haven't eaten instant noodles for months now.

The five girls you originally started off with seem to lose interest in you, they never texted or called you again. And when you did bump into any of them, they would pretend not to know you.

It's extremely obvious that they're avoiding you for some reason, maybe it's because they've seen you buddying up with Mercedes: one of their sworn enemies and one of the most feared figures in this city.

It's... Surprisingly sad. Knowing that the friendship was doomed from the beginning didn't change the feeling of isolation and hurt in you. But at least you gained something that resembled a friend.

Mercedes would gradually increase the frequency of her texts and calls, hitting you up whenever she's bored out of her mind.

"Stop working letz go shopping"

"U r SO going blind in ur 30s"

"nerd :-P"

"im boreddddddddddddd"

"go clubbing with moiiii"

"letzzz goooo"

"stop ignoring me :-("

These were just some of the few text messages you would frequently receive, blowing up your phone even when you're in a meeting. You would usually need to turn it off entirely to keep yourself quiet.

But yes, you would go shopping with her. Mercedes seem to have a kick out of spoiling you with clothes, jewelry and other things you can only dream to buy.

You didn't like trying on clothes, because Mercedes would barge into your changing room however and whenever she liked.

"What's the big deal? We're both girls." That was what Mercedes would say when she slips into the cubicle, while you're mid-change without any warning. Of course, you would react negatively to that, especially since you don't know her that well.

In the end, though, you would just give up and let her come in. It's not like you could stop her and she isn't doing anything too weird... Aside from her vaguely longing stares at your partially or completely unclothed body. She would almost be in a trance, staring unblinkingly for long periods of time until you snap your fingers in front of her face. She just claims that you're just too hot for anyone to handle.

Mercedes would contact you via your phone, asking if you would want to go clubbing with her, or if you would want to be her plus one to an event. And each time, you would say no. And each time, she would whine about how lame you are but never pushed too far.

A temporary boyfriend would take your place, only for her to break up with them the next day and appear in another tabloid for some scandalous fighting or dating. When you asked her about it, she would get moody and irritable. She would rant about her feelings and problems with the world at large, finding the dating pool now repulsive and general standards insanely low.

"Ugh! Can you believe that he said that to me?"

You would have to nod, it would end her ranting faster. It's always the same phrase over and over again, with slight variation.

"I wish men were just like you, I would find it so fucking easy to commit to a guy. But they're not, so I rather shit my hands and clap. Oh my god, he was so pathetic and gross."

You could recite her words at this point, you got it the first time that she wishes she could date a male version of you. Mercedes didn't have to repeat that every single time you and her met up.

For her sake and yours, you pray hard that she finds what she's looking for. You don't know how much more of her repetitive complaints you can take.

All your other attempts to network and make connections fail. As soon as any of them knew you were Mercedes's "bestie", they would either run for the hills or become actively hostile toward you. She has made a lot of enemies and you don't think she has any girlfriends... Only orbiters or those who tried to get her approval but secretly hated her guts. Or die-hard fans who don't see her as a human, but as an object, whether for better or for worse.

She kept them around, just because she could benefit from them. Mercedes would bring them along to some of your many shopping sprees with her just so they could carry heaps of heavy bags for the two of you. While you and her get to enjoy the day, completely unburdened.

It unsettled you how she treated them like lowly servants, or even more degradingly so, like dogs. And not like one of her spoiled Pomeranians, but mutts that are bred to work and live off scraps of attention. You could be having a spa day at the city's finest specialist, sipping on complimentary champagne, and having your hair done with products that you cannot even pronounce; Mercedes would make her lackeys wait outside. Yet, they appear happy about this treatment from her. Eagerly following Mercedes and by extension, you, wherever you go.

It didn't matter who you tried to befriend, Mercedes's opinion of them would remain constant: They're all two-faced liars who are out there to kick you when you're down. It never changed despite never even meeting them or you made them up. She's fiercely protective of you, and always assumed the worst of everyone, even her own relatives when they tried being cordial with you.

Of course, the friendship has blossomed to the point where you would have a slumber party at her multi-million mansion every Friday. You wouldn't even need to bring anything, she would have everything ready for you; clothes, toiletries, hairdryers- anything you need to survive from day to day, you would have a more luxurious version of it. She definitely has an affinity for bling, as the tops that Mercedes provides always have rhinestones decorating them.

You were living in opulence, a lifestyle that can only be seen on TV, in magazines, or in history books. It's jarring and almost dreamlike how you got to experience such things just by chance. You didn't have to work hard for it, you just need to endure a spoiled blonde's clinginess to receive all these. What a steal. You had maids and butlers that would await your every order, personal chefs to whip up something delicious in a second, and hunky pool boys to ogle at when you tan with her outside.

You just wished that Mercedes wasn't so touchy, though...

"Like, sunburn isn't cute. C'mon, don't be such a hardass, turnover." You would groan and do as you were told, laying flat on your stomach and adjusting your sunglasses. Mercedes would then squeeze a handful of white sunscreen on her palm, and begin rubbing onto your exposed back and legs.

She would always take her time running her hands over your skin, sensually massaging from the base of your neck and down to your bum. Her flesh would glide against yours, reaching all that she could touch and occasionally squeezing your cheeks down south. Whenever you complained, she would say:

"What? Not my fault you have a bubble butt. No one can resist giving a squeeze." And continues fondling you under the guise of preserving your youthful skin from the harsh sun rays. You would sigh, slumping your head down as Mercedes continued doing whatever she wanted. It's her house, her money, and her influence after all. You're just riding on it for free. And it's not like anything is going to be too weird, you and her are both girls!

"Okay, I'm done. My turn." She would hand you the bottle of sunscreen and flip herself over. It's undeniable that she has a body that even Aphrodite would be envious of, thanks to a combination of genetics, her lifestyle, and other procedures. Mercedes does put in work in her personal gym, toning her body and alluring men everywhere. Her bikini would leave very little to the imagination, but it made sense why she needed much more sunscreen.

"Make sure to get it on here too." She would purr, playfully wiggling her plump rear. This would usually prompt an eye roll from you and a giggle from her.

She's soft to the touch. And you knew that not because you would have to smear sunscreen on her, but because she would often cuddle with you. It didn't matter what you were doing, you could be stretching in her living room, and she would wrap her arms around your waist. You could be curled up on her fluffy sofa, watching a sitcom, and she would crawl up all over your space. You could be sleeping, and you would wake up to her being the big spoon. And she would have the audacity to whine about how you ruined her sleep by moving around.

But you must admit, she is comfortable to cuddle with. Especially when you rest your head on her voluptuous breasts, allowing yourself to sink into them and inhale her sweet, floral perfume. It would be heaven squared when she would rake her long, acrylic nails through your hair. Mercedes would let you twirl with her golden strands, playing with them between your fingers.

You think, maybe it's because she's just lonely and a big fan of physical touch. It must be exhausting to constantly think every single person in the world is out there to get you. But does she have to be so... gross?

"I just want it." Mercedes would whine, demanding that she wants your drink. You would ask her why, you also drank out of this straw anyway.

"I didn't like my order."

You pointed out that you ordered the same exact thing as her.

"They didn't make it right!"

You asked her what made her think they made yours right.

"They just do!"

You said it's just going to be the same thing. Why not throw hers away and order another one, seeing that she has near infinite amount of money?

She would groan in frustration and stomp her heels on the ground. "It tastes better after you drank from it, okay!? I don't know what it is about your... fucking saliva that makes something so mediocre, tastes so good. Now, gimme!" Mercedes would snatch it out of your hands and swapped it with her one.

You drank more than half of yours while Mercedes barely touched her cup. Well, more for you, you guess. At least everyone is happy.

This habit of hers would extend to utensils, you knew she would purposely drop her dessert spoon just to eat from yours. Mercedes would steal your clothes, claiming that your outfits are always cuter than hers, and she's jealous.

But she chose and bought you these clothes...?

You were so used to her antics, that one day, Mercedes gave you a new brand of gum to try. However, when it touches your tongue, you immediately grimaced as it was the most atrocious flavour ever.

"Whaatt? Are you fucking serious? That's like, my favourite flavour!" She would look at you in disbelief. And you would look at her in disbelief, because this was the first time seeing her buying this brand.

You told her that you wanted to spit it out, it's awful.

"Don't waste it!" She hit you on the arm. "Spit it in my mouth." Mercedes would part her lips wide and bring her face close to yours.

Without thinking, you expelled the partially chewed up candy into her orifice... which she gladly accepted and began chewing on it. Sucking whatever flavour that was left on, including your fluids.

"What are you talking about?" You could hear her obnoxious chews between words. "It tastes fine, you're so dramatic."

Upon realizing what you just did, you would shudder in disgust. Quickly walking away as if you're trying to run from the memory.

Soon after, Mercedes would permeate through every aspect of your life. It seems like she had a chat with her parents about offering you a job at one of their firms. A high standing one at that, too.

You obviously accepted it and resigned from your previous post. Now, THIS is what you're talking about. A prestigious job with unbelievable benefits and tasks that doesn't seem too hard for you to do. It's everything you wanted you achieve, ever since you arrived at the city.

Well, minus the fact that your bestie who got you this position would intrude your office every chance she gets and talk your ear off.

"Ughhh... this is so boring... Let's ditch this place and go somewhere fun." She would rest her head on your shoulder while shaking you by the arm.

You said you can't. You have work to do.

"Says who?"

You said your boss.

"Who's your boss?"

For the fifth time, you told her the name of your supervisor. But instead of complaining, she would storm out of your office. At first, you thought she would leave you alone, maybe she's tired of bugging you and got the hint that you're a responsible adult with adult jobs.

But, ten minutes later, she would be barrelling in with your boss in tow. She had him in a very unsavoury grip, her hands tightly clutching his sleeve.

"Tell her!" She demanded.

"Y-you're free to go. Someone else can cover for you."

Your eyes would widen, asking if this will affect your pay.

"Not at all. Don't worry, I will have this... agreement in writing. Please e-enjoy the rest of your day." He would then quickly excuse himself from the room, avoiding Mercedes's fiery glare.

You looked at her. How could she just do that?

"My Dad owns this company, duh. Anyways, less talk, more walk." She hooked her arm around yours and dragged you out of the office.

It's as if her father was paying you just to babysit his bratty, adult daughter. You barely get to do anything for the company! You don't even know what you were hired to do in the first place anymore.

It gets extremely suffocating being her best friend, you don't know anyone around except her. The staff in her mansion is always rotating, so you wouldn't see the same face twice. You barely remembered your supervisor's names, let alone any colleagues'. All your free time is robbed by Mercedes, she saturates every single second of your life. You don't remember not seeing Mercedes's pretty face on the daily, yet it's astonishing how she would get the paparazzi on her for constantly dating a new roster of boys each season and getting into catfights with other women. Where does she find the time to do that?

It's rubbing on you, now you begin to crave a boyfriend. A 'boy toy', as Mercedes would call it.

It shouldn't be too hard, you know that you're good-looking; you have the clothes, the hair, the makeup and you can always steal from your filthy rich best friend. Your bank account is a little chubbier now thanks to Mercedes. If you just put yourself out there, you're sure boys will flock to you.

But you shouldn't tell this to Mercedes, you get the vibe that she would be jealous that you're stealing the spotlight. You aren't trying to do at all, you're just curious to know what it's like to live like Mercedes for once.

So you had to do it secretly. You would always decline her requests to join her clubbing, preferring to favor sleep over drug-fuelled parties. But recently, you would cover up your eyebags with concealer just so you could introduce yourself to the market. It goes without saying, that you're not tagging along with Mercedes, you went on your own and told not a single soul.

And it was a success! You have never received so many free drinks from men before, you even witnessed some of them fighting over you, all physical and mock-macho. It was hilarious and flattering, but the other girls would avoid you like the plague and shoot you nasty looks your way. It's much worse than you expected it to feel, you feel... rejected, alienated, and ugly. Was this how Mercedes felt? Is that why she thinks all other women are out for her blood? Well, you understand it now. And some of the boys would be really creepy towards you, it doesn't feel so good on the soul knowing the people who defended you from those weirdos are also creeps themselves. They just wanted a piece of you as if you were just a slab of meat in a cage of hungry wolves.

Though, it would be a big, fat lie to say you didn't feel free. You felt the freedom that died on the day Mercedes took you under her wing. It tasted so sweet, you wanted more and more. You were so addicted, that you took illicit substances just to keep you awake for longer, to party until the sun rises.

You were leading a double life: As Mercedes's goody-two-shoes bestie in the day, a bad girl gone wild at night. Make out with whoever you want to, drinking as much as you want and shaking yourself to the beat of the music until you drop.

You knew Mercedes was suspecting something was up, but at this point, you give no shits. This is your life, and you get to live it.

It didn't last long, though.

There was one night in particular; you remembered that they had a massive disco ball in the middle of the ceiling, reflecting every ray coming out of the projector. It was deafening, the smell of booze and sweat nauseated you but you didn't notice. The DJ was bopping his head to the rhythm and scratching records using his fingertips. The patrons were doing their own thing, some were dancing like no tomorrow, some were locking lips and some were snorting lines. It was one of those types of parties, the one where you first met Mercedes. Except this time, you successfully snuck in without your ex-friends and finally found the core of the rave.

Your hair was frazzled and you had a few wardrobe malfunctions, but why should you be bothered by that? It's not like everyone around you were dignified at all, you blend in and that's all that matters to you.

The details were fuzzy, but you remembered wondering what it was like to make out with a woman instead. Men had pretty rough lips and they smelled like crap. Why not experiment? You're here anyways, and no one is going to recognize you- whatever happens in this mansion, stays in this mansion. Plus, you already have a willing participant next to you, who has been hitting on you all night.

Later in the dark, you became bold from a mix of alcohol and whatever glowing pill you took from a giddy stranger. You pulled her aside to somewhere secluded, the two of you were clearly hot and bothered, deeply eager to explore each other's bodies. Nothing else matters in this moment, other than to satisfy each other's needs.

She pulled you in by the neck, pressing her full lips against yours. And you were correct, it was soft, fragrant, and delicious. A thousand times better than kissing stinky boys. You closed your eyes and melted into her touch, sinking deeper and deeper into the kiss. She's on top of you, straddling your hips and your hands are rubbing all over her body. The woman, who you didn't even know the name of, trailed kisses from your jaw down to your collarbones. Her slender fingers began to stray from your chin and roam downwards until it was dangerously close to the hem of your panties. You let out a muffled moan as she let her tongue taste every corner of your mouth, neither of you could speak. And neither of you wanted to, words weren't necessary.

However, your ecstasy was cut short when your lover was yanked backward. Confused, your eyes immediately shot open at the first taste of emptiness... only to witness something scaringly horrific.

"Fucking slut! How fucking dare you, how fucking dare you touch my girl!" Shrieked Mercedes as she had an iron grip on your lover's hair with one hand, and another was whaling on her non-stop. She was screaming in terror as your best friend inflicted as much damage as she could on her face. Scratches, punches, cuts, she had done it all. Mercedes pulled clumps of hair out from her victim's scalp and dodged every attempt of her to fight back. She was fast, fueled with the purest distillation of rage you have ever seen, mascara streaked down her face as she shouted until her voice was hoarse. Blood splattered onto her light-hued hair, her outfit was ruined and no doubt, a thousand dollars worth of acrylic nails were ripped from her nailbed as she threw brutal punches.

You panicked, trying to break the fight up but Mercedes was entirely immersed in anger that she didn't care that she lost her natural nails along with her false ones. She's also bleeding, scarlet painted her fingertips, knuckles, and up to her wrist as she went on tormenting your lover with more hits and pummels. At this rate, Mercedes might just kill her!

You attempted to restrain her, but she was too strong, easily overpowering you just so she could beat your lover to death. There was so much hatred simmering in her heart for this one stranger, this one woman you're sure she's never met. Why!? Why her!? Why would Mercedes attack her unprovoked!?

The fight, which was one-sided ended a few minutes later when your lover stopped moving and was covered in gruesome welts. Her eyes were swollen shut and there was blood pooling around her from her nostrils, scalp, and lips.

"You."

Growled Mercedes. She was breathing heavily and all her strands were out of place. Tears were flowing down her bloodshot eyes as she trembled.

You were speechless, you quivered in fear as you looked on. In the end, all you could mewl out was a meek "Why?"

This caused her to wail, scream, and sob. She brought her injured fingers to her head and gripped her hair, letting out all her frustrations and agony before composing herself enough to form a coherent sentence.

"Fuck you, Whore! Fuck you!" She pointed at you, her shrill voice was making your ears hurt, but you're glad she wasn't biting them off instead.

You said you didn't understand what was going on, why was she so upset.

"You were into girls all along! I-I-" She sniffled, ungracefully wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. Soiling her face with her own blood.

"I'm... in love with you..." Her voice quietened as it wavers, Mercedes choked on her own tears as she confessed. "Why didn't you tell me...?" She gasped erratically as she cried. Suddenly, there was a spike in her emotions. "Why didn't you fucking tell me?!"

You took a few more steps backward as she lost control over herself again, she had to kick your already unconscious lover with her heels to calm herself down.

"I wanted you! I..." She let out one last bloodcurdling scream before lunging at you.

You tried evading her, but she was just too experienced in this. Within seconds, her hands are tightly wrapped around your neck; Choking them until blood rushes up your head. You clawed and clawed on her hands, but nothing worked. She was determined to kill you.

She gnashed her teeth as she choked the life out of you, her salty tears rolled down her cheeks, taking some concealer along with it showing that she also had severe dark bags under her eyes.

You started seeing spots, and your thinking became redundant as your brain shuts down from the lack of oxygen. Is this it? Your death? Killed by a nepotism baby with her bare hands?

You took one last look at her face, it was filled with pain and anguish.

You regretted agreeing to come to the city.

She was yearning for you, ever since she bought you that first drink. If you knew the depth of her twisted, obsessive love she harbors for you, running for the hills would have been your immediate reaction.

Mercedes cried herself to sleep almost every night, suffering from a heartache that could never heal itself as long as she knew you were straight. She knew that you would never share her feelings, because she was taught that everyone sees lesbians as freaks of nature.

She tried distracting herself with parties, boys, booze, and coke. But nothing worked, all she ever thought about was you, you, you. She loves you and wanted nothing but to be your lovely wedded wife. Oh, how she longs for a life where it's just you and her. And no one else.

Mercedes couldn't let you go, no way in hell. That's why she would scare off anyone who got too close to you for her liking, that's why she sent out hit after hit to eliminate the competition. Because if she can't have you, no one can.

But now...

"Sit."

You frowned, refusing to budge from your spot.

Mercedes pouted, she cupped your cheeks and stared deep into your eyes.

"Bad puppies don't get treats, you don't want to be a bad puppy, do you, baby?" She cooed in a babyish tone but with heavy condescension.

You couldn't speak, because there was a ballgag between your lips. Yet, you stayed still in defiance.

She narrowed her eyes at your disobedience.

"That's how you're gonna be, huh." Mercedes lets go of your face and sticks her hand into the pocket of her bathrobe. You heard a click, and soon you felt insane vibrations between your legs, it's coming from the vibe taped to your clit!

You let out a muffled yelp as the stimulation made you buckle to your knees, and eventually, you were on the floor, helpless as your hands were tied up behind your back. Juices leaked from your slit and onto the cold, smooth floors.

"Good girl~" She praised in a sing-song voice. Mercedes happily clapped her hands together.

Your eyes rolled back into your skull as you were about to be overcome by pleasure, but... the device suddenly stopped moving. Leaving you incomplete and agitated.

You whined and whimpered, wanting your rightful climax but Mercedes only smiled at your pathetic, squirming state.

"Aww, what's that? Puppy wants to cum?" You feverishly nodded, face burning from the degradation.

"Well, only good puppies get their pussy eaten. Are you a good puppy?" She rested her hands on her knees.

You nodded and let out a muffled yell.

"Roll over."

You tried your best to do that, but the frigid floor is stimulating you further.

"Play dead."

You lay still for a few seconds, your sex is still throbbing in arousal.

"Good girl, good girl!" She praised, giggling at you.

You whimpered, having tears bead from the corners of your eyes. You need that release so badly, it's starting to hurt.

"Mmm... you're so fucking hot..." She whispered as she slowly got down to the floor, slipping her hands between your inner thighs to remove the toy. Her pupils are dilating at the sight of your naked, dripping crotch. "I can't wait to eat you out. You always taste so fucking delicious." Mercedes brushed your puffy lips with her fingers.

"Open your legs."

She didn't have to tell you twice, you granted her full access.

"Good girl..." She purred before dipping her head down to drag her wet, pink muscle over your pussy.

You writhe as she tongue fucks you, lapping up everything and not letting a drop of your sweet, sweet nectar go to waste.

You would spend almost every waking second being 'trained' by Mercedes. Her treats are sex and the overstimulation of your pussy until you faint. You never knew that she was such a nymphomaniac, or maybe she just is that for you. Mercedes just couldn't get enough of your essence, so you're subjected to such treatment.

Well, at least you don't have to work anymore. You get to eat five-star meals and sleep in a mansion, and you get to binge-watch all your favorite shows guilt-free. All you had to be was Mercedes's pet and have her eat you out whenever she wants.

Her beloved Pillow Princess; was embossed in gold, on the hot pink collar around your neck.

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eowynstwin · 23 days ago

Text

peristalsis - v

selkie!soap x reader. depression. strangers to "lovers." shower sex. cunnilingus. smut. manipulative soap. oysters as an aphrodisiac. unstable narrator. . Running away from life to the Scottish Hebrides, you meet a man who won't leave you alone. . Masterlist. Ao3.

You watch him over an open book.

It’s an old romance, something from the eighties. Classic bodice ripper, billowing sleeves, tight corsets, mullets and heaving bosoms and all. Naturally, it’s set on a pirate ship, the heroine as the unlucky spoils of a merchant ship raid and the hero a lusty captain able to pierce her virgin’s desire for sexual depravity.

It could only have been more pointed at you if it had been set in the North Atlantic—it isn’t—but you glare at Soap’s back anyway.

He must be able to feel it, because he stands straight at the wheel, shoulders thrown back, occasionally flexing.

The freak.

You’d realized the joke he’d been making, once your heartbeat had slowed. Hiding the pelt somewhere obvious enough for you to see it. You live in the age of the internet—you know what it’s supposed to mean.

And you kind of hate him for it. Now, post-coitus, you can’t shove it away into a box—he is the most attractive man you’ve ever encountered. Rugged and handsome, competent at everything you’ve seen him do, seemingly at home wherever he finds himself. Everything makes him smile. Nothing seems to disconcert him.

And a nice big cock he actually knows how to use. Certainly the best lay you’ve ever had.

What every woman traveling solo, you think, longs to encounter on a solo trip across the world, but will never acknowledge looking for. An answer to an unaddressed desire; proof that satisfaction is out there to find, if it’s searched for.

A lover with no conditions. Someone willing to strip your inhibitions away, knowing your protests are only token.

You had not been searching. You’d given up searching.

And now he mocks you—with every satisfied glance he throws over his shoulder.

“Good book?” he asks, all casual and pleased. “S’ one a’my favorites. Tell me when you get to the naval battle.”

You frown. “You haven’t read this.”

He gives a little huff of amusement. “Read all of ‘em, bonnie.”

No, this is where you draw the line. A good cook, a good fuck, and a romance reader? No. No, you absolutely will not take this.

“Sure you have, Johnny,” you grouse, “you read every single stupid book on that shelf. Sure. Hell, you’ve read books that aren’t on that shelf. You’ve read every new release from the last six months, even. Why not.”

He looks at you again over his shoulder, mouth curled. “Aye. Needed ideas, once a’knew you were comin.’”

He says it matter-of-factly, with only a little bit of pride. As if it was a natural step in the process of getting ready for your arrival—renovate the croft. Stock the fridge and pantry. Plan some island excursions.

Study the erotic mind of the average woman to divine how best to seduce her.

Your frown deepens, and you lift the book higher, making it a barrier between you and him. Loser. Couldn’t he just go to the mainland for a few days if he wanted pussy? Not like it would be hard to find, for him.

You resolve to ignore him for the rest of the trip. A petty endeavor, maybe, but it’s the only one you can make.

But six hours is six hours, and you can’t read the whole time. Periodically you have to get up to stretch your legs, and the windows wrapping around the bridge draw your attention to the sea outside.

Johnny drives the trawler at a remove along the coastline, keeping close enough to the islands for easy viewing. The denizens of the Hebrides are out en masse, enjoying the clear weather, joyfully populating the land- and seascape in the absence of human interlopers.

Porpoises, so much smaller than you might have expected, periodically catch the wake of the boat, swimming alongside, playful and curious. Gulls loop in the air above the dunes, fronds of grass fluttering in the breeze. Gannets, stark white, arrow down into the waves, wings folded back pin-straight as they spear their quarry—silvery fish that boil the surface of the water in their frenzy.

Some removed part of you enjoys their pleasure secondhand. The normally-grey ocean is vibrant in the sunlight, crystalline and sparkling and as blue as Johnny’s eyes.

He seems to be in a good mood, too, although that could just be because you let him fuck you. You feel his eyes on you even as you refuse to look at him, dancing along the curves of your body the same way his fingertips might.

At one point—“Bonnie, I know you’re sulking an’ all, but c’mere.”

He gestures you over to the cockpit, and—embarrassed at being called out—you join him. He brings a hand to the small of your back, stepping behind you and pointing over your shoulder.

A gray wall of passing cliffs, and crags of rock jutting up from the churn at their base. You see ten or twelve grey-and-white seals lounging across every available flat surface, some cuddled in groups of three or four, apparently unbothered by the periodic spray of breaking waves.

“No’ where I’d choose to have a kip, personally,” Johnny says, sounding amused.

You turn your head to look at him, hard. His eyes soften when they meet yours, and he tilts his head to kiss you, undeterred even when you flinch away from it.

His hand tightens across your back, fingers digging in. He sucks your bottom lip between his and caresses it with his tongue, as he edges beneath the hem of your shirt to spread his hand across the warming skin of your back.

“I’m mad for ya,” he murmurs when he pulls away, blush high on his cheeks.

“It’s been two days,” you deadpan.

He presses up behind you, open hand sliding around to press into the low part of your belly, right at the sensitive crest of your mons; you can’t help your gasp when, at the same time, his erection nestles into the cleft of your ass.

“No’ to this,” he purrs in your ear. “Feels like it’s been forever, for this.”

When his fingers start making their way beneath the waistband of your pants, you grab his hand and wrench it away, scoffing.

“You’re just a fucking horndog,” you sneer, betrayed by the heat spilling through your core.

“Aw, you break my heart, bonnie,” Johnny simpers, but there’s a mocking edge to it. As if he knows exactly what you’re hiding.

You step away from him, folding your arms across your chest and staring out at the basking seals instead. Then—

“There’s one in the water,” you say.

A few meters away from the rocks, a round head pokes up from the surface, bobbing with the rise and fall of the waves. Its eyes are slitted closed, nostrils dilating.

“Aw, he’s bottling,” Johnny says affectionately, when he comes over to look. “Look at his wee face.”

You remember suddenly your encounter of the previous day—another lone seal, resting apart from its fellows.

“I saw one on the beach,” you say, “yesterday, after you dropped me off. A big one. You didn’t say they might show up.”

“Male?” he asks, and you nod. “Peripheral male, then. I’m no’ surprised.”

You sigh. “And that is…”

As if magnetized, his hands find you again, this time settling on your waist. It seems that Johnny’s touch is something impossible to escape, in his vicinity. He drags them down over your hips and back up almost idly, as if he’s not even thinking about doing it.

“There’s dominant males, and then there’s the rest of ‘em. Only the dominant ones get to breed at the rookeries, see? And the rest of ‘em have to wait around for the females to leave to have their chance.”

He leans into you from behind, nose in your hair, and you hear him inhale as his hands tighten.

“Once a peripheral male finds a female alone, separated from the colony, ready to go back out to sea—well, that’s his chance to pounce.”

You frown, mostly to yourself. “No matter how the female feels about it.”

“We’ve been over this,” he chides.

He brings his lips to the curve of one ear, then the soft spot behind it. His nose finds the juncture of your neck and shoulder, where the capillaries that he broke with his teeth still throb whenever you press your fingers to them. He inhales again, deeply.

“Why do you do that?” you grouse, unwilling to give him the win.

“Like how you smell,” he says, doing it again.

His tongue caresses the bruise before he closes his mouth over it—but he goes no further than to kiss your neck twice more before returning to the wheel. It leaves you reeling, half-dizzy with arousal, and when you stomp back to your seat with a frustrated growl, he only glances over at you, smirking, and laughs.

He finds a berth in the early evening to park the trawler, and at that point you’re thankful for any kind of solid ground to set your feet on, as well as enough open air to disperse whatever pheromones have saturated the enclosed space of the bridge.

You’ve been half-tempted the whole time to make him drop anchor and drag him belowdeck toward the nearest flat surface big enough for the two of you to share; as it is, you’ve simply stewed in your own juices instead, hot with angry arousal and ignoring the slick pooling in the gusset of your underwear.

Johnny steps out into the cooling air in his usual kilt and sweater, and you once again huddle in his jacket, aromatic with his musk, as he leads you onward. This time, unlike the last excursion, he insists upon holding your hand the whole way, callused fingers worming their way between yours, the captured air hot and humid between your palms.

Callanish turns out to be a henge of standing stones.

Meters-tall megaliths, squarish and narrow like broken teeth, surrounding a burial site and extending in two directions as if lining a road. Inevitably evocative of its cousin Stonehenge, with the notable exception that you are allowed to go up and touch the stones with your bare hands.

“They used ‘em for that TV show,” Johnny informs you as the two of you circuit the main ring. “Well, no’ these, they probably had styrofoam for that, but they got the idea from these.”

You lay your free hand on the nearest stone; it’s cold, and rough to the touch, a day’s worth of sunlight evidently not sufficient to warm it. Tiny spots of moss and lichen cling to the old stone, green and eggshell white.

“Why are we allowed to touch them?” you say. You think of bronze statues, rubbed to a golden gleam by millions of tourist hands.

“That’s Lewisian gneiss, bonnie,” says Johnny, laying his hand, much larger, next to yours. His thumb teases the side of your pinky. “Doubt you could make much of a mark on it. This rock here? Three billion years old.”

You look at him, seeing his profile. The expression on his face is soft—not unlike the way he looked at you earlier, on the way here. He spreads his fingers over the stone, tendons furrowing down the back of his sun-weathered hand.

“No’ just older than us,” he continues. “Older than what we used to be, a’fore we were us. Was there when we first made fire. Was there when we came down th’ trees. Was there all the way back when we left the ocean for the first time—”

He looks at you, then. The setting sun catches in the dips of his irises, setting jewel blue aflame.

“An’ it’ll be there, bonnie, when we go back.”

The wind curls around the stones with the chill of the oncoming night. Even despite the jacket, despite the walk up to the site—you feel it penetrate beneath your skin, deep into your bones.

You choose derision, to reject the shiver.

“And you have this all memorized,” you say.

Johnny doesn’t respond. He continues to stare at you, mouth in a relaxed, but inscrutable line.

You suddenly remember that you do not know this man; though he’s told you enough about himself to fill out his background—you don’t know him. You don’t know how he feels about most things, what’s important to him, why he may find one thing or another meaningful. Not the way you’d have to, in order to understand why the gaze he fixes on you feels so significant.

Whatever you’re supposed to understand in the way he looks at you now, you don’t have the ability to discern. The only thing that occurs to you is that, perhaps, you’ve finally managed to offend him.

It does not satisfy you as much as you might have imagined—

In fact, the thought drops through your belly like a rock.

Again. You did it again.

In the one place you thought you’d never have to face this—you did it again. Here is someone who seems to like even the worst of you, and you somehow found an even uglier side of yourself to show him, a squirming thing that cannot help but sling itself around with no heed for the damage it can cause.

But when you open your mouth to say something reparatory, something that certainly won’t fix what you’ve broken no matter what he might say, his expression softens into something thoughtful.

“Visited when I first came here,” he says. Completely unbothered. “After the discharge an’ all.”

You blink. Sharp heat and the numbness of cold, warring across your face.

“Why?” you ask.

“Dunno.” He shrugs, and lifts his hand from the stone, smiling ruefully. “I was a bastard back then. Didnae wan’ anything’ to do with anyone anymore. Mad at the world, a’was.”

Shucked like an oyster; scaled like a fish. Heat wins out, even in the growing chill. Tender skin scalding itself.

“And what,” you say, reflexively nasty, panic whirring up behind your breastbone, “you thought—you’d get some sort of, magical insight here?”

Johnny laughs. “Naw, a’was just pissing my money away, bonnie. Thought I’d come up here an’ try t’ knock one over.”

Tight chest. Can’t breathe. You step away from him, far away, hide it like you’re looking at another of the standing stones, but a stabbing pain spears upward through your diaphragm.

In—count—hold—out—

“Could you?” you ask, wringing something like a normal tone out of your voice.

“Nope. Paid for it later, though.”

He says it casually. He hasn’t noticed. You reach out to the new stone, drag your fingers overtop of the rough surface, imagine every little bump flipping the friction ridges of each print like pages of a book. Cold—the rock is cold. The wind is cold, and sharp with the smell of rain. The jacket is heavy on your shoulders.

The jacket smells like Johnny.

“I’m sure the park wardens weren’t happy,” you say, feeling your heart slow in your chest.

“No,” he says, and—with the silence of a lightning strike—“I drowned, afterwords, first time I went to sea.”

You look back at him. The wind picks up, ruffling the ends of his mohawk; on the horizon, a rind of darkness splits the clouds from the earth.

“You drowned?” you repeat.

The hem of his kilt flutters and dances. His gaze is intense—the angle of his brow unreadable.

“Aye, bonnie. I did.”

Your ears begin ringing—as you stare at him, you get the sense of dreaming. There’s a distinction to Johnny that contrasts the landscape framing him, a sharpness so focused that everything else lenses around him.

“Why—why are you here?” you find yourself asking, though you’re not entirely sure why. The question leaves you as if surfacing on its own power.

The corners of his mouth quirk—although for once, he doesn’t smirk at you, the way he always does.

“You tell me,” he murmurs.

He holds you in the tilt of his head; in the depths of his eyes, currents pulling you downward. You inhale, and expect, for some reason, water to pour into your lungs.

Then a gust of wind buffets the two of you. Johnny turns, surveying the sky. Breaking the spell, he says, “Come on, let’s get back. I don’ like the look a’that storm.”

Halfway back down the path, the front overtakes you; rain begins sheeting down, ice cold, needle-precise into your hair and down your collar. Johnny grabs your hand again even as you start worrying about slipping, and though the torrent veils the way, the both of you make it back to the trawler in one piece.

Back on the bridge, a red light blinks on the panel by the wheel. While Johnny attends to it, flipping a switch and bringing a microphone on a curly wire to his mouth, you squeeze your hair out over the sink nearby.

“This is Soap on the vessel Sea Ghost,” he says, and waits for a response.

“Soap. Drop anchor somewhere. Looks like a storm’s coming in,” a gruff voice comes in.

“Yeah, Cap, we noticed,” Johnny says with a laugh, turning and smiling at you. “We’re moored, dinna fash.”

“Good. Looks like it’s just for the night. Clear enough in the morning.”

“Barry. You got everything? Shops’ closed tomorrow.”

“Never will understand why. But yes.”

“It’s a holy day, Captain,” Johnny says pleasantly.

Price grumbles something about damn Catholics and their damn rules, which just makes Johnny laugh.

Then, “Gaz is here. Made it in after you left.”

Johnny’s posture shifts. Similar to a dog hearing the turning of a doorknob; amorphous attention coalescing, finding a target to point at. Anticipatory. Tail twitching, winding up to wag.

It’s a new reaction, to you—you’ve never seen it before.

Johnny lifts the transmitter to his mouth. He holds it there for a silent moment, before saying, “And Simon?”

No response from the other end of the line, pulled taut, as if snagged. Then Price responds “Haven’t heard yet.”

Something passes over Johnny’s face. Some flex of the muscle in his jaw. An expression held in check.

That’s—

That’s familiar.

“Alright. Back tomorrow then.”

“See you.”

He replaces the mic on its hook.

Thunder claps somewhere over the distant, open ocean. The trawler creaks and groans as the wind swirls around it. Yellow lamps illuminate the warm, wooden space, but are unable to penetrate the lowering blackness outside.

Tension—you can feel it drawing tight, see his shoulder blades shifting closer together. It aches in the muscles of your own back. He faces away from you, like you’re not there—

He turns to look at you. He’s smiling, but it doesn’t look quite real. As if he’s forcing the expression on his face.

“Poor bonnie,” he croons, looking you up and down. The tenor of his voice is saccharin-sweet and thick. “How’s a hot shower sound to warm up, hmm?”

Your belly pinches. “Sure.”

He leads you down a steep flight of stairs into the stomach of the boat, showing you into a single bedroom. The space is cramped, wedge-shaped—barely enough room for the double bed shoved into the middle of it, sheets and blankets gathered in rumples across the top. The unique musk of its occupant wars with the smell of lacquer; the walls are lined with orangey planks, evoking the sailing ships of old.

Directly to the left of the entrance, an open door leads into a small bathroom, into which Johnny guides you, hands on your hips.

“Go’ plenty a’ drinking water stored upstairs so take all the time you like,” he says. “Here, lemme show you how the taps work.”

You half-expect him, after the instruction, to stand there and watch, waiting until you undress. And he does hesitate for a moment, hovering in the threshold, before giving you a practiced grin, telling you to enjoy yourself, a closing the door behind him.

You stand in the middle of the tiny room for an uncertain heartbeat. Assumptions lurching. Almost—hoping.

His heavy footsteps climb back up the stairs.

So, you peel off your damp clothes and drop them into a pile on the floor, stepping naked into the shower. It’s far less mildewed than you might have worried of a single man living alone. Hot water chases cold out of your hair, streaming with pressure far superior to the cottage’s installment.

You realize your toiletries are still above deck, in your bag, beneath the two paperbacks Johnny packed that you haven’t gotten to just yet. You could step out after him—

You don’t do that anymore. You promised yourself.

The floor sways as the shifting sea rocks the trawler in its berth. You reach for the bar on the wall to steady yourself.

One version of yourself is sometimes able to fool the other. The truth is, you could have told him to stop at any time. Put your foot down, hard. Just because he owns the house you’re staying in doesn’t mean he gets to decide what your entire vacation is going to look like.

You scoff at yourself, without any humor. Vacation. Like you’d ever believed this was anything more than self-imposed exile.

The truth is, water takes the shape of the container it fills.

There’s a chill still present in your hair follicles. Impossible for you to identify until now; live with an ache long enough and it stops registering, until it’s balmed with a moment of relief. This is where the addicts begin; experiencing, for the first time, a complete absence of pain, as if it had never been there in the first place, and, once that pain is restored, the ruthless pursuit of its elimination.

Cold rain outside, warm rain within. You stand in the flow, listless. Steam rapidly clouds the empty spaces around you, gathering in droplets on the wall, drizzling down again.

That’s where the mistake is. Pain is never defeated—only deferred. Its panacea provides only diminishing returns, until it’s useless. Until you might as well be swallowing sugar pills or drinking seawater to assuage your thirst.

But you keep doing it. You remember too well how it felt. You chase it down because now you know how it feels.

At some point you have to understand that it always ends poorly.

The bathroom door opens again, and then the shower door, spilling yellow light into the shadowed recess—

Johnny.

The expression on his face is inscrutable; mysterious, as his gaze moves down your body, following the streaming water. Your arms curl around your chest in a perfunctory attempt to conceal yourself, even despite the futility of the effort.

He’s naked, and half-hard, a refrain on the previous night. One hand holds the travel-size soaps and gels that he must have dug out from your bag. He steps in behind you—enclosing the two of you in together.

“Sorry, bonnie,” he murmurs soothingly in your ear. “Had t’make sure we were tied up for the storm.”

The space is not even suggestive of being big enough for two people. You hear the squeak of the shower wall against his shifting back, hot skin slipping against yours as his hands draw you back against him by the hips.

“Dinnae want you t’slip an’ hit your head,” he murmurs, massaging the fat of your pelvis, as if there’s any reason to make excuses for what he’s doing.

Half-raised hackles petted down too easily. You relax into his touch, even as you disdain it. Your heart tremors in your chest.

“What’s going on tomorrow?” you finally ask. “Who’s Simon?”

Pathetic. A jealous lover, after less than forty-eight hours.

“Old task force,” he answers, kissing the back of your head. “Little reunion, food an’ beer, mostly.”

You half-expect him to go immediately for your breasts, or maybe your pussy. His cock is stiffening against the small of your back. But instead, he opens one of your bottles, squirts some pearly body wash into the palm of his hand. Rubbing a little to lather it, he puts his hands back on your hips, and begins massaging it into your skin.

Inward, up your stomach. Pressing into the soft parts of it, with the water slicking his way. His mouth touches the back of your neck—softly. Tenderly. With all of the languor you rejected the previous night, and not enough space for you to slap it away again.

His lips press inward, looking for the bite he left, which he lays his tongue on as if in contrition, licking it like a dog with a wound. The comfortable warmth of the shower swelters with his added body heat; the steam pulses in time with the heavy beats of your heart.

One hand slides up your body, fording your thoracic arch, the wedge of his hand ascending the length of your breastbone. He cups your jaw, bubbles between his fingers, one of your breasts nestling between his bicep and forearm.

He tilts your head to the side as he cranes his head further into your neck, lipping at the space behind your ear, kissing delicate, sensitive skin, as his other hand drags soap around your ribs, beneath and over both breasts, up into your pits and back down again.

A doll in his hands, bent along the shape of his will. He shifts his hips, frotting his erection against you.

“Johnny,” you breathe. “Johnny, this isn’t anything. This doesn’t mean anything.”

“Aye, bonnie,” he hums. “Whatever you say.”

He licks a hollow in your throat.

His other hand dips lower, sweeping down into the crease of one thigh to round the lower swell of your hip; then back up again, fingers spreading.

The stall compresses your arms close against you; the only space you have available to lay your useless hands is on his arms. The dark hair you find with your fingertips is coarse, wiry, plastered to hot skin with water. The spray seeps between the both of you, streams in the runnels of flesh pressed together.

Between your legs, your clitoris heats, awakening even though untouched. You give a small whine, and Johnny huffs a little chuckle in your ear, suckling your neck as his fingers make the descent back, rinsed in the falling water, teasing your pubic hair before nudging your folds apart.

He finds you slick and aching. He only dips lower briefly to wet his fingers, and then, as he settles a light touch over where you’re most desperate for it, relief razes through your nerves in a sudden wash.

You search for the back of his head, slotting your fingers into the ends of his mohawk at the nape of his neck. He hums against you, hand dropping down from your jaw to cup one breast in his palm, weighing it, thumb flicking around the pert nipple in the same tight circle he draws around your clitoris.

Orgasm, usually so obvious on approach, sneaks up on you, quick and quiet, but when it takes you it floods you, rather than knocking you down. You tremble all over, the follicles on your scalp standing on end, the nerves down your back and sides bending like dune grass to a wind.

Your long, breathy cry reverberates against the shower walls, and you lean heavily back against Johnny’s body, grip tightening where you have your hands on him.

He twitches against your back, but he makes no move to chase his own climax. He only turns you carefully, when you recover, and lays his hot, open mouth on yours, tugging your hips close enough to trap his cock against your belly. This time, the wall is cool at your back, the crown of your head moving against it as Johnny angles himself deeper, sliding his tongue between your lips.

“C’mon,” he says, when he finally pulls away. His pupils are huge, black dilation swallowing the blue. The spray fills the empty spaces between the strands of his mohawk, fluffing the hair a little as it courses down the shaved sides of his scalp. “Need to get my mouth on you again, bonnie.”

This time, when he eats you out, he does it at his leisure. Licking honey off a spoon. So lightly that you whine at him, find the energy to bitch at him to do it like he means it, but tonight he does not indulge you.

No—he mouths at you, eyes closed, curly lashes against his cheek as you lay belly-up on the rumpled sheets of his bed. The heat of his tongue in your cleft is the only source of warmth you have as the rain lashes at the outside of the trawler, but the hot shower still lingers in your skin—

Humid. Sticky. Sweat gathering beneath Johnny’s palms where he holds your thighs to his ears, as if mimicking the way your sex will clutch around him when he enters you. Slick and tight and viscous.

When he crawls up your body—nosing at your belly, your breasts, inhaling as if your musk is something he’s trying to get drunk on—he fucks you slow and deep. You stop being able to tell if it’s the storm rocking the boat, or the weight of his hips rolling against yours, one of his hands on the headboard for leverage and the other on your mons, pressing down with the heel of his hand to feel the head of his cock moving in you.

Tacky skin catching on the grind; heart speeding up as he grins at you from above, thumb tapping your clitoris. Enough to wind you up. You reach for his hips with your clawed hands, digging your nails into the meat of his ass—firm, muscle tensed, twitching every time he bottoms out.

“Johnny,” you finally beg, on the edge of a sob, “please, Johnny, please—”

Breath leaves him like a steam valve turned, pressure carrying an uninhibited moan. He ignores your plea, hips rolling slow, forcing you to feel every inch of him in and out of you, every ridge—every vein pulsing on the surface of his cock.

His eyes are closed still; when the widest part of him catches the rim of you around him again, his mouth drops open, lips pink and bitten.

Lost—he’s lost in pleasure, in the feeling of you around him, pulling him in. You watch his chest as it heaves, the flex of his stomach as it tightens—the twitch in the muscles of his arms as the impact of each thrust ripples up his body.

Look at me, you want to say. Look at me. I’m right here. Look at me.

“Again,” he groans, choked, restrained, hands gripping your hips. “Say it again, bonnie—”

“Please—” you whine, on the edge of a sob, “please, please, please—”

Thumb metronoming at a quick tempo where you need it—you seize, back arching, tightening around him so narrowly you could force him out—

He snarls, sharp and hard, thrusting into the resistance, hands falling to fist in the mattress. Breath coming rough and fast, sweat dripping from his forehead into the cups of your collarbones and down between your breasts. Hard and fast now, pushing in as far as your body will let him, and a final, long moan tears from his parted lips, liquid heat flooding you as Johnny goes rigid with a climax following only moments after your own.

Pelvis flush with your thighs. He doesn’t let a drop escape, pushing against you, lifting your hips from the bed.

“Tha’s right,” he slurs, eyes hazy when they open. “Tha’s right, that’s where it belongs.”

He collapses on top of you, almost crushing you with his weight, as he seeks your mouth out with his. He moves his hips against yours with shallow thrusts, whining in his throat.

“Didn’t you—” you pull your lips away, too hot, too cold, buzzing and exhausted, “didn’t you just finish?”

He tongues at your cheek instead, and then down your neck. “Doesnae matter, is no’ enough. C’mon, bonnie, wrap your legs aroun’ me, please…”

After he is finally spent—long after you’ve had enough energy to do more than lay beneath him and let him use you as he pleases—Johnny diverts briefly to the galley, bringing back with him a plate of oysters and a pry knife. It’s his bed, so you don’t complain about shell fragments, but you resolve to make him change the sheets anyway, shifting uncomfortably to find a spot that isn’t soaked.

“Was on this boat,” Johnny says, as if picking up the thread of a conversation only recently dropped. He picks up one of the oysters and shucks it open. “When I drowned.”

The way he says it, you’d think it was a casual thing, something he barely thought about anymore, but the line of his brow is low and serious.

He hands you one half; you bring the shell to your lips and tip it upward. Brine slides across your tongue, flesh smooth and buttery. Johnny watches you with soft eyes before having his own.

“Price was with me. I told him to fuck off, but he said he wasnae gonna let me take it out alone the first time ever. I was a bastard back then, I told ya. We went out in a storm, like this one, even though any eedjit could take a look outside and know it’d kill him.”

You flick at the edge of the shell with your fingernail, looking down at your hands. “Why’d you do it?”

“Dunno. Had somethin’ to prove, I guess.”

“That you could still do stuff like that?”

He doesn’t respond, so you look back up at him. He angles his gaze toward the mess of your hair—the new hickies he’s left on your neck—the bead of your nipples in the cold. The hard angles of his face soften.

“All my life,” he says, measuredly, “all I wanted to be was a soldier. An’ I couldnae anymore. Even though I was better. Hell, I was better than better. But I couldnae go back. That was it. It all wen’ on withou’ me.”

He breaks open more oysters as he talks, hands steady and deft around shells and knife. When he finishes, he slides the plate into your lap, and reclines to face you on his side, propping his head up with his hand.

“We wen’ out when the waves were as tall as a man, an’ us hangin’ onto the railing for dear fuckin’ life,” he continues. There’s a faraway quality to the tone of his voice. “Only life wasnae so fuckin’ dear, was it? I could’ve held on tighter, I think. I fell off.”

“And Price pulled you out?”

That feeling again, meeting his gaze; caught in the arms of a whirlpool, being dragged down. A vial in a centrifuge, constituent parts separating.

“No,” he says, “he didnae.”

“Then…”

“Eat, bonnie.”

There’s a stillness to him that feels unnatural. Johnny is a man who should be constantly in motion, gesturing with his hands, bouncing on the balls of his feet, tapping any available surface with rolling fingertips. Instead, here in front of you, he’s still as a statue. Chest softly rising and falling, but otherwise completely placid.

He gazes steadily at you, down at the plate, and then back up. You sigh, and pick up another shell.

“I don’t remember exactly what happened. I remember getting pushed down deep, real deep, then getting forced up again, on a current or something. Not far enough to get any air, mind. I thought, I’m gonna die out here, an’ I didnae want to.”

He shifts then, a little forward toward you.

“That seemed important, you know? I didnae want to die. Dinna think the sea would’ve given me up f’ I did. It knows. Sometimes it doesnae care. But I guess that time, it did, ‘cause after I blacked out, next thing I know I’m wakin’ up on the shore.”

Something hard shifts in your belly.

“Cap found me a bit later, bringin’ the boat in. Gave him a real scare. Think it turned some of his hair gray overnight. After that…a’was no’ the same. How could y’be, after that?”

You—you don’t want to know any of this. You don’t care. You didn’t ask. His story drops expectation on your shoulders, heavy, custom-tailored, laden with understanding that sands your abraded nerves.

All of this is too much. The damp sheets beneath you, the food, the sex. The fact that you picked the last place in the world thought you could ever meet anyone, let alone someone who—

“And now you have a seal fetish,” you sneer.

Who understands.

Indulgent. This is indulgent, reckless, idiotic in the extreme.

Soap reaches out, and wraps a large, sun-brown hand around your wrist, the one still holding the oyster. Pulling it towards him, he opens his mouth and then tips the flesh from the shell. He slurps it down, noisily, mimicking the sound of his mouth and tongue on your pussy.

“Something like that,” he says, with a sharp, cocky grin.

He changes the sheets. Dims the lights. Plasters himself around you as the storm blows itself out, arm heavy over your waist, thigh and knee nested inside yours.

He’s warm at your back, musky with the mingling aroma of dried sex and sweat.

Sturdy. More real than anything that’s ever put its hands on you.

Johnny, who the sea loved so much it spat him back out. So treasured by the world that a bullet to the brain couldn’t even take him away from it.

Who, by the sound of it, means so much to the people in his life that they would follow him to the middle of nowhere just to keep an eye on him.

Bile churns in your stomach.

next chapter early access

a/n: two chapters left!

#soap x reader #soap x you #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x you #john soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x you #soap mactavish x reader #soap mctavish #john soap mactavish #mwritessoap #madi writes #selkie soap #peristalsis #'i'm going to write shorter chapters' writes this monstrosity #i am so not happy with this but we forge ahead nonetheless #hopefully I can get 6 up in EA next week. maaaaybe a double posting since the epilogue won't take long to edit. i think.

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deadghosy · 1 year ago

Note

I love your work so much imagine ben Drowned in hasbin hotel.

Them crawling out of the TV and alistor is like I don't like tv but can you mess with vox😭.

SURE!! LOL! 🦆💗If anyone wants to do a creepypasta! Reader, I will make it a fanon version cause that’s most easier since I’ve always seen the fanon side of creepypasta when I was into the fandom💗

HAZBIN HOTEL X BEN DROWNED! READER

prompt: after jumping into a tv to hide from being stabbed by Jeff…you accidentally went into a show called HAZBIN HOTEL……

Your dumbass didn’t even check what was on tv…it was just left on as you are now falling to a city in a shape of a…..pentagram?

Welll shit…you are in a hell cartoon…

Meanwhile with Jeff: “where the fuck is that short tacked bitch…” he said holding his knife tightly as his eyes glanced at the tv. “That bastard!”

MEANWHILE WITH YOU: You pointed to a service pole and started to surge through the electrical wire into some random old tv box. You pressed your hand through the tv screen and came out of it. As you came out of it a gasp was heard to see a bunch of characters…..oh boy…

After basically getting chased around the hotel and interrogated…they let you stay by Charlie’s words as she was excited to have another member to her crew at last.

Few weeks later, they have gotten use to you. I mean Alastor still keeps an eye on you as you play games and go through electronics around the place.

Angel thinks it’s funny for you to hack Valentino’s page to make his bio say “I have a small dick.”

Vaggie makes you go out on errands until she can find you a decent duty at least. But she appreciates how you help around a lot.

Husk thinks your pretty annoying because of your gen z & gen alpha humor. I headcannon ben and you to basically be a media specialist to learn the lingo around and to understand the generation.

“Hey husk…” “hey kid…” “you’re so not alpha male…” “…the fuck?” “Sooo not slay.” “Get the fuck out my face.” *cue you doing a gremlin ass laugh*

I can see Velvette making fun of you for wearing the link fit😭 she would be confused as if you were a stinky cosplayer kid-

“GOOD HELL?! What are you wearing dear..” the female vee says as you look down to your link outfit. “What’s wrong with it? I think I look ✨f a b u l o u s✨” you said with sass

“You look horrendous. THAT’S what you look like.” Velvette says. You rolled your eyes as she snapped her fingers giving you black converses, tan brown pants, and a green hoodie. She had let you keep your link hat as you actually liked how you looked.

Maybe when you get back to slender’s mansion you can spend his card to buy an outfit like this.

I imagine Charlie or niffty trying to wipe off the blood tears of your eyes thinking you were crying as you stand there like “what is going on-🤨” most definitely the face look like this “:T”

Angel dust brought you a gaming set from a thrift shop as you smiled happily at this and started to play….only to find out it had knock off versions of the games in the human world….impta?! (GTA) PENTACRAFT?! (Minecraft) hellmon?? (Pokémon)

You immediately thrown the gaming set outside and decided to go hack Vox’s system for fun again.

I can imagine reader sending random “if you don’t like this, Lucifer is coming for you.” posts to random sinner to fuck with them.

I can DEFINITELY see Alastor asking you to go mess with Vox’s tech even if he doesn’t like those picture boxes. “Ben/Reader, my fine fellow..I got a favor to ask of you.” After he asked you to go mess with this dude named Vox. You smiled as you transported into your own tv and go to the vee tower.

You hacked into Vox’s system as he spit his coffee out to see “nya cat” on all his computers and devices as you snicker seeing Vox’s face trying to fix it. You laughed showing yourself as your bloody tears roll down your face because of laughing. “WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!” Vox asked angrily

“IM YOU! BUT BETTER! GET HACKED LOSER!” You said before disappearing from his system as Vox claws his desk in anger.

Alastor had a good chuckle when you told him what you did. “I never liked this picture boxes…but you my friend, are true entertainment.” After this your relationship with Alastor grew as he would pay you handsomely with snacks as you go and piss Vox off on any other day.

Valentino and Vox hate your guys to the point they want to kill you while Velvette is just chill with you as she helps you with your outfits and aesthetics.

I imagine since Ben drowned also looks like link, you have long hair like link but sometimes cut it down to bit length to not trip on it.

You give off that “new worker at McDonald’s” vibes as you would just play around instead of helping the residents😭

“Can I have keycard?” “….how about no?”

I imagine you just tapping on and off a lamp post boredly as Valentino keeps going towards it and away from. “On….off…on…off…” you liked to mess with people

You had tapped on sir Pentious’s device once and it exploded…yeah you were pretty much banned from his room and lab. But it was worth it.

You definitely wrestle with husk as husk will just try to claw out your eyes only him to just get pepper sprayed by you.

“AGG MY FUCKIN' EYES!!” “I didn’t know this shit would work on demons..”

Lucifer was definitely intrigued with your appearance as you seemed like a human. But also had a demonic appearance. So he questioned you and you just kept saying “SWAG!” He got tired of it and demanded you as the ruler of hell.

It didn’t work as you just shrug with a “:D” face and transported into a wire. Lucifer was bamboozled as he just stood there like “what just happened”

You showed niffty how to beat any person during a game as you, yourself is a hacker and can beat any game personally.

You looked at the phone that you stole from that flat faced dude as you smirked having an idea as you transported into the phone to try and go find Jeff. And lucky you did as he was sitting on the couch watching wrestling.

“Heyyy buddy.” You said looking through the tv to see Jeff. He scoffed seeing that his favorite program was ruined by your face. Jeff turned off the tv. Your face was like a pikachu shocked face. “THAT BITC-”

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just1cefor4ll · 2 months ago

Text

Always the loser, never the winner

“And I’m sorry I left, but it was for the best— thought it never felt right.”

Choi Su-bong/Thanos x sick!ex reader warning. swearing, not proof read, might be OOC, no happy ending, mentions of drugs

genre. angst

The night Choi Su-bong walked out of your life was the coldest one you could remember. You were sick—seriously sick—and he had tried, God, he had tried, to make it work. He worked every odd job he could find alongside his dream of becoming a rapper, borrowed money from anyone who would listen, and skipped meals just to make sure you had enough to eat. But the medical bills piled up, and the debt collectors came knocking. He saw no way out.

The decision to leave was supposed to save you. He told himself that over and over as he packed his things in the dead of night. Without him, you’d be eligible for financial aid. Without his debts dragging you down, you’d have a chance to survive. But when he walked out that door without a word, it broke him. He thought it was the only way to show you he loved you; by disappearing.

Months passed. He tried to drown his guilt in drugs, hoping to maybe one day get back to you, however once he made the grave mistake of investing into a damn bitcoin— his life came crashing down on him. His debts only grew and to him there was only one possible solution to his depressive life; suicide.

Then the invitation came. A strange card, offering the promise of a fortune. Su-bong didn’t hesitate—he had nothing left to lose. It was like a sign from god, an angel sent from heaven telling him his life hasn’t lost its purpose just yet.

The games were brutal, but he clung to one thought to keep himself alive: if he won, he’d find you again. He’d make things right.

But then he saw you.

The first round had ended, the survivors headed back into the dormitory. He was scanning the crowd, taking stock of the competition, when his eyes landed on you. You were standing near the corner, pale but determined, your jaw set with the same stubbornness he always loved. His heart stopped.

“No,” he whispered under his breath, his legs nearly giving out beneath him. You didn’t notice him at first, too preoccupied with your own fear and confusion. But when the second game began, and players were called to choose teams, you spotted him. Your eyes met across the room.

“Su-bong? .. Or should I say Thanos?”

His name on your lips felt like a punch to the gut. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, as the weight of what he’d done crashed down on him. You were here because of him. Because he’d left you with nothing.

You marched toward him, your expression a mixture of disbelief and fury. “What the hell are you doing here?” “I could ask you the same thing,” he managed to choke out, his voice coming off a bit harsher then intended . “I didn’t have a choice,” you snapped, your voice breaking. “I needed money, and I thought—” You stopped, shaking your head as tears filled your eyes. “No. You don’t get to ask me that. You left me.”

“I—” He reached out, but you stepped back. “You left me to die, Su-bong.” He couldn’t argue. He wanted to tell you why, to make you understand, but what could he say? That he thought abandoning you was love? That he thought you’d be better off without him? It all sounded so empty now, standing here in this nightmare. The announcement for the next game interrupted you. You were forced apart, thrown into a world where survival meant stepping over others. He watched you from a distance, unable to protect you, hating himself more with every passing second.

You both however survived the games, a weight lifting off of your chest once you stepped into the dormitories you learned to love— because it meant you got to live another day.

Then the votes came. You pressed O, having nothing to loose since you were already dying from this god forsaken sickness you were cursed with anyway.

Su-bong didn’t know, but a part of you blamed yourself for everything—for the debt, for his departure, for the way your once-perfect life unraveled. When he left, thinking it would save you, he didn’t realize the crushing weight of the medical bills would fall squarely on your shoulders. The debt collectors didn’t stop; they simply shifted their focus. And in the cruelest twist of fate, his absence had effectively wiped away his debts while doubling your own. You hated yourself for it. Hated that you had become a burden, that your illness had destroyed the life you’d built together. You’d loved Su-bong since high school, falling for his charm and his stubborn determination. Your relationship had been solid, a rare kind of love most would say he’s incapable of.

But sickness had a way of poisoning everything. You’d watched as his shoulders slumped under the weight of your medical expenses, as his bright smile dimmed with every overdue notice. And then, one day, he was gone, leaving nothing behind but a note you could barely bring yourself to read.

It was perfect, once. You’d wake up to his warm laughter and fall asleep to his whispered promises of forever. But in the end, love hadn’t been enough to keep you together.

One night, as the others slept, you found yourself sitting beside him in the dark. Neither of you spoke for a long time, the silence heavy with everything left unsaid. Finally, you broke it.

“Did you know your debts were cleared when you left?” you asked, your voice quiet. Su-bong froze, his gaze snapping to yours. “What?” “I got stuck with all of it,” you admitted, staring at the floor. “The medical bills, the loans—they all fell on me after you left. You thought you were saving me, but you only made it worse.” His face crumpled, and for the first time, you saw the depth of his regret. “Shit, I— I didn’t know,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought... I thought you’d be free.” You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Free? Su-bong, I lost everything. My health, my home, you. I had nothing left.” “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice barely audible. “I was so fucking stupid. I should have stayed. I should’ve fought harder.” “Yeah, you should’ve,” you said, your voice trembling with anger and heartbreak. “We could’ve figured it out together, but you didn’t give me a choice. You just left.” “I was scared,” he admitted. “Scared of watching you suffer, scared of failing you. I thought you’d hate me if I stayed.”

You looked at him then, tears streaming down your face. “I didn’t hate you, Su-bong. I loved you. I still love you, even after everything.” His breath hitched, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of the boy you’d fallen in love with all those years ago. “I love you too dumbass,” he said, his voice cracking but a teasing tone in his. “I never stopped.”

But there was no time for reconciliation, no room for hope in a place like this. The next day, another game began, and the stakes were higher than ever. Su-bong tried to shield you, to take risks so you wouldn’t have to, but the games didn’t care about love or sacrifice.

After Mingle, the vote came to a tie. You were on the O side, earning glares from many, but you didn’t care.

You noticed Su-bong get up and walk away. “Hey—where are you going?” you whisper-yelled, raising a brow. He turned around with a sigh before coming back to you. “I’m going to take a piss. Wanna come, princess?” he smirked, amused as your face turned bright red. “No—go! Ew, what the hell?” You pushed him away, but a chuckle escaped your lips despite yourself. He ruffled your hair and left without another word, leaving a small smile on your face.

“We’ll get out of here, and everything will get better…” you murmured to yourself. A low chuckle beside you made you flinch.

It was Player 001.

“What makes you think he actually cares for you?” His tone was soft but laced with an aggravating edge, a barely noticeable smirk playing on his lips. “What?” you asked, frowning. “I mean… didn’t you see him doing those drugs during Red Light, Green Light? He’s probably going to get out of here and waste all of your money on his happy pills,” he said casually, glancing down at you as you sat frozen in place.

Your heart stopped. ‘What? But he said he was sober..’ you thought, confusion clouding your mind as doubts about Su-bong resurfaced. “Why so nervous?” the man pressed, leaning against a nearby bed. “Did you realize your boyfriend over there isn’t as trustworthy as you thought?” His words stung, but before you could respond, you noticed more X voters entering the bathrooms, making your chest tighten with panic. “What? I—no.” You stood quickly, intending to rush to the bathroom, but he grabbed your shoulder with a firm grip. “Be careful with your decisions,” he said, his voice low and ominous. “This place is life or death—remember that.”

You tried to push past him, but he pulled you into a secluded corner where neither the O nor X voters could see. “What are you doing? Let me go!” you protested, thrashing against his hold. His grip didn’t loosen. “Shhh,” he whispered, his expression unreadable. You struggled, tears pooling in your eyes. ‘No— no.. no Su-bong he’s in danger I need to—‘ Your body slowly started giving up— you were surprised it even held out for this long but sickness has a way of manipulating your way of thinking. Sometimes you think you’re as healthy as one can be but then before you know it.. death is gently kissing your cheek.

‘Su-bong..’ He was the only thing on your mind as your consciousness slipped from your fingers. A sharp pain stung your heart, almost like a bullet as you heard one last thing, something you certainly did not want to hear.

“Player 230 eliminated.”

No, he promised. He promised you’d get out— together. You fell for his stupid lies and promises yet again, you let your guard down and got hurt again, but this time it wasn’t just a petty break up.. a life was lost, a precious one to you at that and you couldn’t take it back.. not this time. ‘I hate you Choi Su-bong. I hate you for leaving me, I hate you for lying to me and tricking me yet again with your stupid charm and that stupid smirk. I hate you so so much.. But I can’t help but love you with my whole, sick being.’

#⚖️ juist1cefor4ll #choi su bong #thanos squid game #choi su bong x reader #choi su bong squid game #su bong x reader #squid game fanfic #squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game thanos #thanos x reader #squid game thanos x reader #thanos #squid game x y/n

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glitterjay · 11 months ago

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— loser boyfriend

⭒ sub!jake, afab!reader, needy jake, pet names (puppy, good boy, etc.) masturbation (m.) suggestive content under cut, mdni!

⭒ c's note: im in my heavy jake feels so enjoy this! | mlist @hollyoongs this one's for you, beloved <3

jake was always confident. his ego was through the roof with that cocky grin of his always lingering on his face. his flirty personality only added to his way of being, and to say he was an incredible dom in bed was a low title for him.

but there where time where you didn't notice. times of vulnerability that he had to deal on his own. and they were starting to happen quite often. like that one time, you accidentally brushed your arm against the outline of his dick when you tried reaching for the remote. or when your legs touched his under the table while you guys hung out with his friends.

there was no way in hell he'd let you or anyone know of this state. absolutely not. so there he was, stuck in his apartment's bathroom, massaging the massive bulge growing under his sweats. the cause of it? you had called him puppy because you saw people pulling that prank on their partners on tiktok.

"jakey?"

you called from behind the door. he practically ran when you realized his cheeks went red as a tomato at your words. to say you were worried was an understatement. it was more of amusement. you didn't know such a thing could ride him up so fast.

"puppy, are you okay?" you called again.

jake, on the other hand, was biting his lower lip as hard as he could. the taste of blood was starting to fill his taste buds. but he didn't care. he was fighting every single sound that was threatening to come out of his mouth. he took a deep breath, and stopped his movements for a second.

"i'm- i'm fine."

his voice had betrayed him, just as you expected. you leaned in closer to the door, using your aoftest voice to talk to him. "are you sure you don't want me to help, baby?"

jayun was going crazy at this point. his throat was starting to hurt from holding in the nasiest and highest moans ever. his cock was now freed from his sweatpants, proudly standing and being bumped by his fist. there was nothing wrong with a little change, right?

"it's a special occasion," he mumbled. "yeah, a special day."

"darling?" he called. to which you answered knocking on the door.

"you can help me. but it'll have to stay like this. you on that side, and me in here, mkay?"

you knew he didnt want you to see him like this, and you knew he didnt want to lose his fuck boy facade. it was a shame you wouldn't be able to see his fucked out expression, or how his beautiful adams apple would be more noticeable with his head thrown back, but you agreed nonetheless.

"im here," you reassured

"fuck baby, keep talking"

his voice was clearly breaking, and he was panting a lot. your panties were starting to feel wet, but you could deal with that later. or maybe the dom rough jake you knew could take over then.

"is your fist enough, pretty?" you asked. the pet names had jake seeing little stars all over the bathroom. he moaned in response. he didn't care anymore. he was loud.

you grinned at how vocal he was, catching onto how much he liked the nicknames. "is my baby close? cum for me like a good boy."

the sweetness of your voice, plus the million emotions going through his head, had him cumming hard. the white ropes shot out like a hose as he leaned back into the door, moaning loudly. it was almost as if he was crying. soft whimpers kept leaving his pretty mouth. he could get used to days like this.

#— ✿ c's work!#enhypen #enhypen smut #kpop #kpop smut #hard hours #enhypen hard hours #engene #enhypen jake #enhypen jake smut #jake sim #sim jaeyun #sim jaeyun smut #jake smut

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middlingmay · 2 months ago

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Alright so what if it was Gale who was losing it in the Stalag and not Bucky?

Bucky who's always been more untethered finds his snarling and snapping is more common, more accepted in the Stalag so long as it's not aimed at the guards. He doesn't have the pressure of trying to keep all of the worst bits of himself so contained, only blowing off steam at the bar or between the sheets. He still hates it, is still angry and furious and impotent, but in the Stalag he can express that more.

And he helps the others express it, too. Gives everyone one pass a day to curse him out as badly as they can, and he screams right back. Organises secret fights for morale - a chance to get the hurt and frustration out, a chance to exert themselves, a chance to bet with the meagre things they had and something to look forward to. The first person on their back was the loser - no first blood bullshit. This place was already taking too much life from them.

But Gale? Gale who's been angry his whole life but had to keep it on lock down. Gale who found the war and the air force as an outlet for his wilder impulses. Gale who needed to be in control of everyone and everything and pretend like he wasn't. He can't do any of that in the Stalag. He's always been afraid to let his emotions loose and lashing like Bucky. He didn't do well being so powerless, and didn't know how to be him in a place like this.

He can't do missions or rally the men. The crystal radio helps but that's only an hour here or there when it works. He creates chores and rotas and organises classes. But it all feels so useless.

He doesn't realise that between Bucky and Gale, the 100th stuck in the Stalag are managing to tolerate life there pretty well. Their hungry and constantly in danger, but they have both structure and an outlet when it got too much. Gale just sees himself as an utter failure if a soldier, a pilot, a major, a friend and a man. And ihe alternates between days where he's sick with rage from it, and days where he can't muster the will to rise from his shitty bunk. And Marge’s letters go unanswered.

He's not the self destructive kind to veer near the fence or pick a fight with a guard, but he takes minimal care of himself, giving away rations and leaving the warmest clothes for the others and not taking medicine when he gets sick in case someone needs it more later.

It drives Bucky crazy. And after exhausting every other idea he has he decides there's only one way to get a spark of life back into Gale. So the next fight he slates is Bucky v Buck.

Gale doesn't find out until he follows John who wants to show him something. It takes shockingly little persuasion, and Bucky things he's been waiting for something like this but would have never let himself take the plunge without being thrown straight in.

Lookout duty is a punishment that night, because no one wants to miss the fight of the two Majors of the 100th.

They knock the Holy hell out of each other. Gale's lip busts open easy, but he hits like a hammer. And John's nose is a prime target and his moustache is sodden with blood pretty quickly. Bruises blossom everywhere, and in the end, they fall down together. John sinks a boot into Gale's ribs and he.socks John's jaw so hard his ears ring.

They lie gasping on the floor and the match is declared a jaw and the boys are losing it as much as they can without getting caught.

But John sees it, lying there. A sparkle of life and feeling in Gale's eyes again.

That night in their bunks when they're somewhat patched up, Gale reaches out for the first time since they got there.

"I didn't get you too bad?" He asks as he trails his finger so ermsome of the more prominent bruises he can see even in the dark.

"Oh, I can feel it," John tells him through a genuine grin. It only tempers when he takes Gale's hand in his and thumbs over the too bony protrudence of his wrist. "You with me?"

Gale licks the crusting concealing blood off his lip, setting its healing back some. "Till there's no more pilots left in the sky, John."

#clegan #buck x bucky #mota #alternative take on the Stalag #can be read as gen but come on #fighting as a metaphor for fucking

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urlovebot · 1 year ago

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Masterlist

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

bada lee ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

♡ gf texts (1) ♡ gf texts (2) ♡ gf texts (3) ♡ gf texts (4)

♡ gf texts (5) ♡ gf texts (6) ♡ gf texts (7)

headcannons ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

♡ bada as your gf ♡ corruption kink

♡ experienced bada ♡ bada pursuing oblivious reader

♡ bada + reader at the club ♡ bada + idol reader

♡ sub bada ♡ insecure reader sitting in bada's lap

full works ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

♡ tell your friends

→ cunnilingus. the use of a strap/harness. possessive bada hitting it from the back!

♡ takeout (on me)

→ pussy whipped bada lee taking you in several different positions.

♡ kissin' and hope they caught us

→ reader gets into their head alot, but bada is always there to reassure you.

♡ water

→ bath time with bada. aftercare but bada is h word on main still. fingering, praise, soft dom!bada.

♡ garden kisses

→ friends to lovers. a bit of angst in the beginning. cunnilingus. jealous bada. bada is bad at communicating feelings. some texts thrown in there. possessive bada. pussy drunk bada.

♡ attention

→ nothing too bad. actually, not suggestive! bada lee being fine as hell at your highschool reunion… y/n acting up per usual. really fluffy at the end. enjoy!

♡ my love is mine, all mine

→ severe anxiety/panic attack. bada comforts reader through an anxiety attack. bada best girl.

♡ luxurious

→ spoiled ass reader. down bad bada. suggestive. a little more than suggestive? not full on smut though. what does bada like more than checks? money!

♡ too close

→ angst. angry howl, homophobia, minor and very, very minor physical harm done to bada. closeted bada, out and proud reader. its alooooot of angst. some comfort at the end though so don’t worry.

♡ all the time

→ sub bada. pussy fiend bada. bada is down so bad she is in hell. dom (?) reader. reader is a tease and bada is fed up lmfao.

♡ all mine

→ dumbification. throat fucking with a strap-on. EXTREMELY possessive bada. reader is a brat, bada is a brat tamer.

♡ dead man walking

→ light threats. mafia esque gambler bada. possessive bada (yall know thats my shit). smut. bada fingers reader.

♡ hold me

→ gp!bada… alpha bada… rough, possessive gf bada. fingering. knotting. lots of cum… mild marking. mentions of breeding and pregnancy…

♡ poison

→ degradation, mean dom!bada, choking… oh! g!p bada… again…

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

zerobaseone ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

୨୧ angry hanbin

୨୧ soft dom matthew

୨୧ domestic poly!haobin + reader

୨୧ zb1 being done with poly!haobin + reader

୨୧ misc poly!haobin + reader hc's

୨୧ riding zhang hao's face

୨୧ idol!reader turns zhang hao on during a performance

୨୧ sex with ricky hc's

୨୧ brat tamer ricky

୨୧ doggystyle + matthew

୨୧ waking up with haobin

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

enhypen ੈ✩‧₊˚

☆ 8:16am (lhs)

☆ 5:37pm (sjy)

☆ 11:32pm (sjy)

☆ sunghoon thinks you're pretty

☆ making brownies with sunghoon

☆ make up sex (sjy)

☆ brat tamer jungwon

☆ certified munch (sjy)

☆ quickie (sjy)

✩ nerdy loser bf! sunghoon

#bada lee #bada lee x reader #bada lee smut #bada x reader #smut #swf 2 #kpop #kpop smut #zb1 #zb1 smut #zb1 fluff #zerobaseone smut #zerobaseone #enhypen smut #enhypen fluff #enhypen #enha smut #enha #sunghoon smut

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activesplooger · 27 days ago

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𝓥𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓼 𝓓𝓪𝔂 𝓕𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓜𝔂 𝓕𝓲𝓬𝓼

ᴠᴏx x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | 𝓐𝓭𝓪𝓶 𝔁 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 | 𝐿𝓊𝒸𝒾𝒻𝑒𝓇 𝓍 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇 | 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Summary: What reader got from some of my fics !! ft. vox, adam, lucifer, and alastor

ᴠᴏx:

ʜᴇʟᴘ ᴍᴇ | ᴠᴏx x ᴀꜱꜱɪꜱᴛᴀɴᴛ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ - a voxtech company card that went out to all employees. however, a little message was inside! :) "To my favorite employee,

Happy Valentines Day.

-Your Boss

-Your Friend

-CEO of Voxtech

-Vox

ʜɪꜱ ɴᴇᴡ ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ | ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ!ᴠᴏx x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ - shit ton of gifts, a fabulous dinner, and a pair of lingerie... yay.... his hands werent away from you for even one second: caressing you, holding your hand, lingering on the small of your back, etc.

oh and he fucked you ALL night

and though youd never admit it, it was a bit enjoyable

ᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴄᴏᴠᴇʀ | ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ᴀᴜ - a weird morning mass about saving yourself for marriage and cherishing your husband/wife— immediately followed by a gentle fucking in his office upstairs

ꜱᴜɢᴀʀ ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ - he wined and dined you tonight! what kind of loser overlord is alone on valentines day? he couldnt be seen alone! so, he brought you to a fancy dinner place and bought you a nice dress to wear so you wouldnt look like a hooker! it was nice, and he paid you double for the occasion. Though, once you two were out of the spotlight of publicity, he brings you back to his dark, desolate, penthouse where he cries softly as you suck his dick. yikes....

reader, talking with her mouth full: are you crying?

vox: *sniffles* NO SHUT UP

𝓐𝓭𝓪𝓶:

𝓐𝓭𝓪𝓶 𝔁 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓻𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽 | 𝓥𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓪 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓕𝓵𝓾𝓯𝓯 - adam awkwardly shows up to your door with flowers and chocolate, mumbling about how he doesnt usually do this "simp ass shit". he hands you the gifts and asks you to be his valentine, you laugh and nod, "of course!"

𝓗𝓞𝓞𝓣𝓔𝓡𝓢 - a hugeee tip stuffed in your pocket along with a little card that says "be mine <3 please". anddd once hes drunk enough he gives you a valentines day motorboat which immedietly gets his drunk ass thrown out of the hooters. what a man

𝐿𝓊𝒸𝒾𝒻𝑒𝓇:

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑀𝑜𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒜𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 - morning sexxxx!!!! you wake up to him already buried inside you from last night, his dick fluttering to life as he wakes up. he starts to thrust into you lazily as he presses kisses to the back of your neck. "happy valentines day, princess". he then makes you pancakes and babbles on about the fancy resturant he plans on taking you to later

(holy shit i need to write for him more lmao. once ss2 comes out my hyperfixation will come back fr. i have more fics than just the one but idk lucifer would do this in all of them aqkfhjbwefjhwbf. ALSO WHY I GOT SO MANY FUCKING ANGSTY FICS FOR HIM LMFAO???)

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫:

𝐑𝐮𝐭 𝐒𝐙𝐍 - he cooked for you :) a nice homemade dinner that consisted of a nice cooked deer and gumbo! it was delicious, of course... he surprisingly kept his urges under control; it was that time of the year again and you had no idea. it wasn't until you took your jacket off that he went feral. the sight of your bare shoulders and sinfully low neckline made him pounce. his pupils were blown wide at you and jumps at you across the table like this (lol)

bites the shit out of you and rips ur clothes off. you werent sure if he wanted to eat you or fuck you (probably both) but you were into so hell yeah.

𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 | 𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅 - a sickeningly sweet note left on the bed with love petals leading up to your shared bathroom. following the petals, your led to a beautifully set up bath with essential oils, bubbles, flowers, you name it. but the most beautiful thing is the sight of your lil deer soaking up in the bath waiting for you, "happy valentines day, my dear! care to join me?"

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY BITCHES!!

ok now pray that i finish his new obsession part two lol

#vox x reader #alastor x reader #adam x reader #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin #vox #lucifer morningstar #adam hazbin #alastor

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luveline · 1 year ago

Note

Omg please kbd uncle Eddie:’)

dad!steve x mom!reader, 1k

“Hi, Uncle Eddie.”

Eddie rubs his hands together, holds them out in front of himself, and summons the prodigal child forward. “Bethany. Quick, give me a hug.”

Bethie walks into his waiting arms, her giggle infectious as she says, “That’s not my name.”

“Bethie,” Eddie says with a sigh. “You know my full name is Edward. Full names are nothing to be ashamed of.”

“It’s Bethie.”

She pushes the hair off of his shoulders. He smiles at her and her little hands. If someone told him ten years ago he’d be carrying Steve ‘King of Hawkins High’ Harrington’s babygirl around like a treasure he’d laugh in their face, but he loves Beth. She’s hands down his favourite Harrington, and he’s allowed to have favourites as an uncle, though the other clingers are cool too. Beth is Eddie’s favourite because she’s an underdog, and because she’s so clearly infatuated with him. They’re best friends.

He gives her a pat between the shoulders and slips down into a seat in front of the TV. There’s no signs of the other babies nor their parents; Eddie always lets himself in when he’s coming around and he doesn’t expect wait service, but a hello would be nice. “Where’s mom and dad?” he asks, setting Beth down into the seat beside him. He zeroes in on a plate of pretzels and snags a few for snacking. “You’re downstairs by yourself?”

“No! They’re in the kitchen.”

“Really? What about Ave and Dove, then?” he asks through chewing.

“Dove is napping and Ave, um, went somewhere.”

He raises his brows. “Dad took her somewhere?” He imagines Beth would tell him Avery’s run away with similar nonchalance.

“To Grandma’s. They’re going to watch a play.”

“Oh,” Eddie springs up off of the couch. “Stay here, sweetheart, I’ll just go make sure they know I’m here.”

Eddie is scared to open the door. Why is it closed? He supposed parents are deprived of one another but he doesn’t wanna see you kissing. Then again, if he does see you kissing, Steve will die of embarrassment. That’s worth it.

“Hello!” he shouts, throwing open the door.

He makes you both jump hard, Steve’s head thwacking a cabinet and your hand thrown to your chest. You almost fall on your ass where you’re kneeling by Steve’s leg. His pant leg is pushed up to the knee, and you have a tweezers in hand —Eddie frowns abruptly.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asks.

“Steve has a tick, you fiend. When did you get here?”

Steve groans. “The door was locked,” he says, rubbing the back of his head.

“Not well. Just stuck my credit card in there and wham. You guys should slide the chain in if you’re gonna leave poor Bethie all by her lonesome, don’t you think?”

“Eddie, the door was locked,” Steve says. “You’re the only weirdo in Hawkins willing to break in. Plus, I still have that baseball bat in the garage.”

“Sure. Come on, sweetheart, get off the floor. Let Eddie have a stab at it.”

You laugh and pull Steve’s pants down over his shin. “It’s fine, I already got it. He might get Lyme’s now because you scared the fuck out of me–”

“Language.”

“–but I heated it up and I think I got it.” You look up with a smile. Steve pauses his pained head rubbing to beam at you lovingly.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine. Or he’ll turn into a zombie, and that would make him cooler. Win win. So, dinner?” Eddie asks. “Should I go get something?”

“Nah, I made ravioli, you rude idiot. Where’s Beth?”

“I told her to stay put in case you were making out.”

Steve helps you up from your kneeling to dust you off. “Thanks for saving my life,” he sighs tiredly, kissing your cheek.

Eddie rolls his eyes and turns away. Steve should love and appreciate you, you’re awesome, but he’s also a loser and Eddie’s entitled to thinking such disparaging thoughts about his friend from time to time.

You and Steve made a kid as cool as Beth, so Steve can’t be too bad of a loser.

“Uncle Eddie?”

“Yes, my lovely sweetpea angel?” Eddie asks.

She stares at him, adorable in all her chubby-cheeked, sugary-eyed sweetness with her hands held up for another hug. Eddie leans down, says, “Daw, I can’t say no to you,” as she giggles into his hair. He strokes the top of her shoulder with his thumb. “So what’s happening? How did that painting go with mommy, did you put it in the contest?”

Steve nudges you forward with a hand on your shoulder. “He’d make a good dad, right?”

“For sure,” you say, “not as good as you, though.”

“Oh, you’re flirting with me, that’s cool… Are you free Friday night?”

“Probably gonna be pulling ticks off of some other guy's leg.”

“Oh, that’s fine, I was busy anyways.”

Beth giggles as Eddie tips her backward, a mixture of nerves and excitement that kids experience so much more than adults.

“I always expected him to just end up with a kid. Like, one night stand style,” Steve says.

“There’s nothing wrong with that. At least then he doesn’t get stuck marrying somebody he doesn’t love.”

Steve glares at you as you laugh, dragging you into his arms to smush kisses into your cheek. “Don’t even joke about that.”

“Sorry, honey. I hope Eddie gets as lucky as me someday.”

Beth begs to be put down through giggles. “I don’t know,” Steve says, resting his cheek on your temple to watch her laugh, “I don’t think Eddie has luck, just sheer force of will.”

“He’d totally get a baby in a basket on his doorstep.”

Steve mulls it over. “God, he totally would.”

848 notes · View notes

laseracronym · 2 months ago

Text

Bakugou/Loner!Reader

(Thinking about Bakugou having a crush on a loner from the Gen Ed course.)

You definitely think he's trying to pick a fight when he first approaches.

What could one of the top students in the Hero Course want with a Gen Ed loser like you? Not even the kids in your own class really hang around you, and that's by design.

He's not clear with his intentions and is awkward in his own aggressive way. You take it for genuine animosity and respond in kind. You're feisty when you want to be.

You start having little snarling matches with him when you bump into each other in the hallways, which is becoming more and more frequent as of late. This guy really has it out for you.

Your classmates wonder if you have a death wish, challenging a guy who can blow you up and is currently receiving combat training. Bakugou's classmates wonder what that poor Gen Ed kid did to piss him off so much, though some (especially Kirishima and Midoriya) suspect something else is going on.

You're starting to become known around the school because of these exchanges. You don't like it, you liked it when no one looked at you and you had your peace. You start to ignore him, hoping he'll get the hint and leave you alone if you stop reacting to him.

He doesn't like that at all.

At first he's confused, completely thrown off by the change in energy from you. But if you think he's just going to let you ignore him... Him? Oh hell no.

"Hey," he barks, when you try to pass him without a word yet again. He catches your wrist in a calloused hand, grip firm yet not as rough as you thought he would be. The contact sends a rush through your nervous system, and you're so caught off guard that you don't even think to shake him off. He tugs you a little closer, his voice gruff yet soft, red-eyed gaze intense yet earnest, "don't ignore me. Look at me."

"What do you want from me!?" you finally burst out, after all this time, all these encounters, you still have no idea what the hell he wants from you.

"You, you stupid asshole!" he barks back, exasperated and face aflame with irritation, embarrassment, and longing. He clenches his jaw, nostrils flaring like an angry bull, before he huffs out what is supposed to be a calming breath. His next words are no less frustrated, but at least they don't echo off the walls. "I want you, I want to be with you and shit, why can't you take the hint!?"

You flounder, your jaw working but no words come out for a second, before you're spluttering, "don't call me stupid! How was I supposed to know that's what you wanted!?"

The argument devolves from there, but he's still got a hold of you and you have yet to turn him down, there's a change in the tension, the fire, now. It seems like you two might finally be on the same page.

(Currently taking requests for drabbles and headcanons!)

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #mha x reader #reader insert #laser writes #drabble #kind of want to do more MHA students with loner!Reader

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kujiba · 9 months ago

Text

DOUBLE TROUBLE

A/n: Basically, loser reader gets thrown into genshin impact (so original lol)

PEACE was never much of an option in the global popular game GENSHIN IMPACT, every enemy you've laid your eyes upon would be instantly wiped from existence; only to be used for materials to upgrade the character you adore on...

"This fan fic is ass." a boy stared at his phone for a few moments, his eyes twitching from the bright screen glowing on his face while he continously swiped his thumb on the smooth screen protector of his phone; his pupils lifting and descending as he continues to read the words displayed infront of him

The boy groaned, his tone having a slight bitter annoyance. "Damn this pandemic, 2020 already bit me in the ass hard.." He mumbled to himself, lazily rolling out of the soft and warm bed he was occupying into the hard and cold floor. A slight thud noise when his body collided with the ground, he also took his phone with him opening it back up and seeing the date and time right now

FEB 14 2039 4:15 AM

"Valentines day..." He thought in his head, eyelids lowering slowly while he closed his phone. He was well aware that all he was about to see outside again were couples being lovely dovely with each other; he doesn't despise couples but would rather not be surrounded by them for a whole day (not to mention he's already lonely enough). He groggily stood up from the floor, yawning and rubbing his eyes preparing to start the day again

¦Slight pov change

Hot water trailed down (Name)'s body while at the same time his fingers were roughly rubbing his sculpt. A hot shower just before a busy day was all he needed, unfortunately for him some soap had managed to get into his eyes so now he had to deal with his eyes closed half of the time in the shower, waving his hands around to find the shower head (Name) slightly slipped back

"Oh fuck!"

He desperately reached out to grab something to save his fall, but to his dissapoint he grabbed water that was running down the shower head instead. Physically and mentally preparing for the blow on the back of his head he shutted his eyes tighter and bit his lip to embrace the impact (hehe get it)

SPLASH

Instead of colliding with the cold tiled floor of his bathroom, he instead was met with nothing but something like water. Panic and dread ran through (Name)'s veins and body, "What is happening?!" he thought to himself, and began to swim upwards in a accelerating speed seeing that he was losing his breath quickly.

(Name) was fortunate enough to get his hands on a large piece of rock in the middle of the waters, following that he lifted his lower half to be able to climb onto the cold hard stone and steadily catch a breather; flinching his eyes open, eyelashes fluttering from the dripping water (Name)'s expression shifted and turned into a startled reaction.

His entire surroundings were covered in water, but he could see a vaguely sight of a camp towards him just a few meters away. Millions of thoughts raced towards his mind but one thing was definitely certain and obvious "Where the hell am I!?!?" (Name) shouted slightly in a distraught and confused tone, did the fall in the shower really hit him that hard that he started to hallucinate? And where the hell was he!? How can he go out of the water butt naked!

The previous panic he had received double by many, he was confused and distraught on where is this place he suddenly appeared into?

"I must be hallucinating right?.. Cause there's no bloody way this is even physically possible!" (Name) exclaimed holding the cheeks of his face with both hands, his chest repeatedly going up and down along with his hands trembling rapidly.

"Aha.. Anytime now! Wake up wake up!!" He pinched the side of his face, a look of horror when realization hitted him. That what was happening right now was in fact real "No fucking way..." His breath shortened with his body, barely able to hold on and plunge right back into the deep waters.

「(°ヘ°)

After a long while, (Name) had pulled himself together and swimed across the waters to the camp he had seen earlier. Currently hiding in a large bush right behind the camp, legs close together and his hands hugging them tightly; Afraid that he will accidentally and unintentionally flash someone passing by. He wanted to 'borrow' some clothes from the camp near him or anything that may hide his body.

"It's alright (Name).. Just keep calm and don't fuck it up.. just gotta get something" (Name) whispered to himself, he breathed in and out; quietly walking to the camp whilst covering his body.

"Fuck this is embarrassing.." (Name) mumbled to himself, his face bright red for he never even once thought a situation like this would happen in his life.

His eyes darted around the camp seeing that there wasn't any sign of life or people there. Only a small lighted firecamp that seemed to have been made just not long ago; "Is there something that could help me here..." He whispered to himself pupils narrowing down on the small camp for any useful materials.

To his luck, he lucky managed to spot a small ragged sack with a rope neatly tying together the medium sized pouch

ITEM AQUIRED: RAGGED SACK [COMMON]

A suprised look emerged from (Name)'s face, his eyelashes continously blinking "What.." kneading his eyes with the palm of his hands and focusing it back on the blue screen plastered on his face.

"Ho.. Holy shit!" (Name) exclaimed a small grin on his lips. He extended his hand to reach out to the display, but the moment his fingertips even brused through the screen it started to immediately glitch.

"Is this like an RPG?" He questioned to himself. His palm brushing against the air continously, attempting to try and touch the blue screen glowing on his face.

'SYSTEM REBOOTING.. 79%'

A robotic voice echoed through (Name)'s ears making his body jolt "Huh!?" His eyes were even wider now, quickly rotating his head to find where the voice he previously heard came from "H-Hello?" it was obvious his voice was nervous, for he was thrown into what seems like a weird world.

Σ(゜゜)

(Name) sat on the ground, his arms crossed while he showed an expression of curiousity. It was just mere seconds till the glowing blue screen infront of him reached 100%, he waited with anticipation and slight anxiety. He was well excited to see if this really was just like an RPG game, afterall (Name) got his fair share of playing multiple games and has pulled countless all nighters.

But part of (Name) also had anxiety, he didn't knew what could exactly happen if that number does reach 100%. And he didn't plan on possibly getting killed just after he arrived on this new world.

"Alright.. Ahem, Hello?" (Name) called out to the blue colored rectangular shape infront of him. He waited a few seconds for any response from it "Right.. I had my expectations too high" sighing and beginning to lose interest, after all something like this would be physical impossible to happen.

Just as he was about to lose the last remaining hope he had, a small bing echoed through the area "HELLO PLAYER." A male robotic voice replied back at him. (Name)'s eyes widened, his breathing hitched for a quick moment. "No.. No way" his body trembled slightly, but even in his anxious state. He couldn't help but form a small smile, it didn't take long for the system to respond again "WELCOME, TO GENSHIN IMPACT. PLEASE TYPE YOUR NAME:_____"

Pause.

Genshin impact?! Like THE game he's been playing every single day? The game you're obsessed with? "H.. Huh!? Wait a second, pause!" (Name) stopped the system from furthermore talking, a cold sweat rolling down his (Skin color) skin.

He looked at the blue rectangular infront of him with an expression of confusion and sternness. "You have some explaining to do first.." (Name) didn't dare to look away from the screen, intensely staring at it waiting for any response or answer just to help him understand what the hell was happening.

(◍•ᴗ•◍)

Just as expected, the robotic voice had not responded in a long while. (Name) was sitting down on the ground, his gaze continously looking around the place for any passerby.

(Name) had opened the ragged poutch earlier and found some decent clothes; a black short sleeved shirt that exposed a small bit of his stomach along with a plain white medium length jacket. His lower body consisted of dark shaded casual versatile pants and high cut steeled boots

(Name) had a pretty pleased expression with the outfit he was given. He expected something like a ragged up clothes that would make his appearance look like a beggar. But the system decided to be benevolent and gave him a nice and comfy, not too tight or not too lose clothes.

"Are you gonna talk or..." (Name) trailed off as he anticipated what the system would further say to him. To his dismay the glowing sapphire colored screen only continued to glow on his face.

(Name) took a deep breath and began to think of a possible name to type in the blank space, it had to have deep meaning, a deeper lore yet also remain beautiful in the ever so slightest.

NAME: PUSSYANDDICKDESTROYER2000 [X invalid]

A scoff escaped from (Name)'s lips "What a shame." (Name) looked at the crimson red text displayed infront of him, he sighed in dissapointment. Left with no choice, he then began entering his name instead. The system immediately turned to a floral green as that name was validated.

"So.. What now" He whispered to himself and stared at the screen with a bored expression. Without any warning the screen in front of him began glowing brightly, it's shine blinding his eyes "Ack! What the hell!" (Name) shouted, he turned his head away in a swift motion and closed his eyes tightly for he didn't want to get blinded by its illumination.

After a short while, the light began to diminish slowly. (Name) turned his head back to look at what had happened, his eyes widened a bit. The sapphire screen was now gone and instead was replaced with a green orb that floated in the air.

"What..."

"Hello, (Name). You must have alot of questions. I'll answer them all for you, one by one"

A robotic voice echoed through (Name)'s head as he frantically glanced around, not getting used to the situation just yet.

(Name) took a deep breath, his chest lifting and lowering, (E/c) eyes gazed on the green orb ahead of him. He had millions of questions racing through his head, but he settled on one that deemed most important

"Why am I here?"

The glowing verdant colored orb, rotated for a while in complete silence. "In the past years, Generation after generation. You are either the past or the future, you could be one or many, but remain mixed with the blood of the others to be sealed at one individual."

Silence filled the atmosphere and (Name) couldn't help but stare at the orb in utter confusion. "Ha? What are you saying... Nevermind" Name shaked his head as he couldn't figure out a thing on what the system responded to him. He decided to move on to the next important question;

"Do I get cool powers?" (Name) eagerly spoke, barely being able to keep his excitement within him.

"Unfortunately not. You have to unlock your 'powers' by expirience...Nonetheless, (Name)- you will figure it out soon." The green orb began levitating it's way to (Name). It stopped its tracks in front of his small exposed stomach, then did it suddenly began turning into small particles that marked the side of (Name)'s stomach.

"Hey! What at you doing?" (Name) shouted in confusion and distraught. Seeing how the green orb began to fade while at the same time a medium sized snake mark began appearing on the side of his abdomen

It didn't felt like nothing at all either - the more the snake mark began to get clearer did it felt even more painful. The sensation was like getting your own insides get twisted endlessly, it did not help that his own mind began to feel dizzy with strong pulse.

"Agh..." (Name) breathed heavily, clutching his abdomen tightly with his arms and began to lay down on the ground, his body curling up into a ball so that he could bear the pain better.

**INSTALLATION PROCESS COMPLETED

The familiar voice echoed through (Name)'s mind and thankfully, the pain began to subdue till he couldn't feel the same cramping pain on his abdomen. Relief coursed through (Name)' s veins for he did not have to feel the discomfort ever again... Hopefully.

"Ha.. Finally" (Name) stretched out his legs on the ground until realization hitted him, all his previous relief faded in a instant: He couldn't move his body.

"Fuck."

щ(`Д´щ;)

Aside from continuously cursing inside his head (Name) was not able to freely move any parts of his limbs, the sensation was something like getting your own free will taken away from your body.

It seriously sucked

'Curse you system... I'll be sure you drag you down to hell with me...' (Name)'s mind only had thoughts of misery and deep hatred to the system that bounded him to the floor, so much so that he didn't even realize a floating young girl screaming at his poor state

"GREAT SEVEN!! Traveler!! There's someone here!!!" The girl screamed at the top of her lungs making him cringe at how high pitched it was. (Name) wanted to raise his head and take a peak at who on teyvat could be yelling at such a distressed and high tone.

And then that's where realization hitted him.

First off: he was transmitted into the world of genshin impact for whatever bullshit reason. Second: there's only one kind of person who could have such a high pitch voice that puts operas into shame.

'Paimon!. This is a good thing! The Traveler could possibly help me right!?' (Name)'s thoughts of sorrow and misery quickly began to dissperse and were instead replaced with hope and anticipation!

A pair of footsteps made their way closer and closer to (Name)'s body. The crunching sound of the ground below him stopped in front of his body, then he felt a hand graze upon his head making him shiver from the touch.

"Traveler! Is he okay? He doesn't look that well to paimon.." Paimon's voice continued with wary and concern for the person. The Traveler only continued to inspect (Name)'s conditions. He was no doctor but it was plainly obvious that the guy must have suffered through alot of pain

"Paimon, let's help the guy up first." The Traveler explained to paimon and she nodded obediently. Paimon grabbed (Name) by the back of his jacket with her tiny hands and struggled to make him sit up properly.

She eventually did it successfully but had to take a breather after all of that work. The Traveler was busy rummaging through his inventory to find something that could possibly help the guy's conditions.

Meanwhile with (Name), he currently was experiencing cardiac arrest....

Just kidding o(≧∇≦o)

'System. What the fuck do I do?'

(Name) had been faking himself to be unconscious, he really wasn't sure to do in the situation so his body just went into instinct and played somewhat dead.

Unfortunately for him the system had abandoned him, and if that wasn't enough they also took his privilege to even talk so it really did feel like his body was just dead at this point!

'System you bastard you better-'

'The System provides you with a 24/7 service. How may I help you?'

(Name) grew an irk mark on his forehead seeing the blue screen appear once again on his face.

'I have so much questions but why did you take away my talking privilege?!'

'Task: Befriend and become The Travelers companion assisting him throughout his journey

Reward: 200 points + Unlocking more skills

Punishment: Death'

'Excuse me?'

System how could you do this to our poor reincarnator! How could he possibly befriend The Traveler without even using his voice!?

o（ｉДｉ）o

"Uhm.. Is it Paimon or is this guy not talking at all!" Paimon and The Traveler stood infront of (Name)'s figure. He previously managed to get fully healed by the Traveler by getting him to eat food...His body was free from its restraints but a bigger problem occurred!

"Uhm.. Hello? Could you talk to us?" Paimon floated her way to (Name)'s side in worry; The whole time they were together he hadn't uttered a single word or even sound! That quickly took Paimon and The Travelers attention.

(Name) sweatdropped at their stares digging deeper into his body. His eyes avoided their gaze for he felt more and more awkward with the time passing by. Paimon followed with a huff

"Hey mister! We helped you so could you atleast tell us something?" Paimon stomped her foot in the air, her patience skinning down but her companion kept a cool face.

Left with no choice, (Name) shaked his head. He turned his head to look at them directly, he pointed at his throat and did an 'X' sign with his two index fingers. Hopefully they would understand.

Thankfully the two understood what he meant, Paimon took the lead: "Ooh! Paimon sees. You can't really talk can you? You're somewhat similar to the Traveler here" Paimon smiled enthusiastically and soon followed with her finger pointing at the Traveler.

"Can you uhm, Write down your name for us mister?" Paimon asked floating around the air. (Name) nodded his head at her question, he took a twig from the ground and then began writing his name down on the sand.

The duo watched closely at what he was writing down in the sand. (Name) couldn't help but worry since it was most likely that they wouldn't understand what he was writing because the world had a language foreign to earth.

After a short while, (Name) placed down the twig beside him. He decided that it was more efficient to draw things that started with the letter of his name so that it spelled it out perfectly.

To his relief again, they understood what he tried to do. Paimon connected the pieces and uttered "(Name)?" her voice was unsure if she said or pronounced it right even.

(Name) quickly nodded at Paimons words, he smiled to himself. His efforts weren't in vain!!

Paimon smiled back at him, joyful that she got it right. The Traveler watched the scene with his eyes and couldn't help but smile too, he raised his hands and clapped at Paimons answer.

Paimon giggled rubbing the back of her hair, feeling shy with the amount of attention she was getting.

"Hehe, that was nothing for Paimon!" Paimon placed both of her hands on her hips, a face full of pride emitted on her face. But she also couldn't brush off the most important question to (Name)

"How did this happen to you, Name?" Paimon questioned him with curiosity in her mind. The Traveler couldn't help but also be curious on how (Name) became like that.

'End my misery. How can I explain it to those two!?'

A/n: Yayy made a new series! Sorry for the long wait with my posts（┬┬＿┬┬）motivation doesn't hit me that much anymore

[FUNFACT: when (Name) was experiencing excruciating pain in his abdomen it's actually similar to period cramps :3

219 notes · View notes

whore-ibly-hot · 2 years ago

Text

Yan!Bully x Gn!Reader x Yan!Loser

'Art-Project'

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Bullying, name calling, degradation, violence, mentions of non-consensual photos, nonconsensual touching, male pronouns for the yans, mentions of school, general perversion, toxic behaviors, creep behavior.

(AN: Had a fun time with this one, really enjoyed toying with the dynamic between this two. I think I'll probably make a part two with these trainwrecks in the future)

Part 2 here

The crashing of books and pens falling on the tile floor rings out through the boy's bathroom, as a young, dark-haired boy is thrown harshly onto the cold multi-colored tile. The boy lets out a cry as he hits the ground, and he scrambles away upon impact, pressing his back up against the wall as he looks up at his assaulter.

"F-fuck off, Patrick!" Ahmed exclaims, his frightened eyes never leaving the predatory gaze of the bully who stands over him. Ahmed's free hand wanders around the bathroom floor, grasping blindly to try and find his book bag. Ahmed's accent only becomes more prominent, as his voice shakes and cracks. "Fuck did you say to me, you little shit?" Patrick grabs the boy by his collar, yanking him up from the ground and sneering at him. Ahmed gulps when he feels Patricks breath tickle his neck, making him tremble. "I-I didn't, didn't mean it, c'mon. I was just shocked when you threw me on the floor, it just slipped out." Patrick rolls his eyes, and as he does, his gaze falls on Ahmed's bright red backpack, laying open on the floor. Patrick notices how Ahmed's eyes widen when Patrick looks at it, causing Patrick to raise an eyebrow.

"What's in the bag, freak?" Patrick whispers, and before the sentence has even fully left his lips, Ahmed is fiercely shaking his head. "Nothing, nothing! Just work, please-" He hits the floor again, and he's sure tomorrow he'll be bruised from the rough treatment. "Pick it up." Ahmed looks up. "What?" "C'mon, pick it up. You're all freaked out, freak... I wanna know why, so I'm gonna tell you one more time." Patrick crouches down, and nods in the direction of the cloth schoolbag. "Pick. It. Up." He pauses after each word, relishing the fear in Ahmed's eyes.

Since Ahmed transferred to Morrisville high, Patrick had made his life a living hell. Not that he wasn't already unpopular at his old school, but people at least tried to avoid him there. People did here at first, before Patrick set his sights on Ahmed. Patrick wasn't sure what drew him to the scrawny, quiet boy. Possibly the way everyone avoided him, or maybe it was how little everyone knew about the new kid. Most likely, it was the knowledge that no matter what he did to the boy, or what he made him do, no-one was going to stand up for the boy. Patrick picked on everybody, but god, Ahmed became his favorite. The way he'd squirm, and cry. The way he was able to convince the other kids at the school to pick on the lonely boy. Things only got worse when Patrick found out that everyone at Ahmed's old school thought he was a freak too. Suddenly, shoulder-checks in the hallway became full-on beatings, stolen homework became shoes and clothes being taken from Ahmed's locker, or even right off the poor boy. Patrick never hesitated to remind Ahmed that even if he reported him, or got away from this school, that he'd still be a freak, no matter where he went.

Ahmed's sobs snap Patrick out of his reveling, as the scrawny boy crawls over to the bag, his hands shaking as he tries to grip the red canvas of the backpack. Patrick huffs, but before he can open up the backpack and take a look, he hears footsteps outside the bathroom, coming from down the hall. "Get in the fuckin' stall, go." Patrick growls, pointy sharply at the large handicapped stall at the other end of the bathroom. Patrick steps outside of the bathroom, and Ahmed can hear Patrick greeting whoever is outside. A friend of Patrick's probably. Another member of his little delinquent gang. Ahmed shuts the lid of the toilet and sinks down to sit on the lid, afraid his knees may give out. The sound of heavy boots approaches, and Patrick fingers slid around the stall door, pulling it open as he slips into the stall, locking it behind him. Ahmed tries to steady his breathing.

"Alright, open it up. C'mon." Patrick nods in Ahmed's direction. Shaking hands pull out textbooks, pens, pencils, even the leftovers from Ahmed's lunch. The objects clatter to the floor, scattering across the bottom of the stall. "See, nothing in here, just my school stuff." Ahmed's trembling hands extend the now empty bag to Patrick, presenting it almost proudly. "What... there's no fucking way." Patrick huffs. He begins to dig through the objects, kicking away the writing utensils as he grasps at the textbooks. He flips through each of the pages, trying to find anything incriminating. His frown only deepens as he finds nothing. He's about to give up, as he reaches for a blue folder labeled 'Math'. When he does, Ahmed lets out an involuntary whimper, causing Patrick to freeze. A sick grin spreads across the blonde's face, as he slowly pivots his head to look at Ahmed.

"There we go, somethin' in here you don't want me seeing?" He asks. Ahmed nods, tears cascading down his cheeks. "Alright, I'll tell you what, freak..." Patrick stands straight up, leaning up against the wall behind him. "Tell me what's in the folder, and I won't even look, okay? Just get it off your chest, I'm open-minded." Patrick purrs at the boy, watching his resolve crack in real-time.

"It's-" Ahmed goes quiet towards the end, his words so soft Patrick can't hear. "What was that? You gotta speak up." He sighs. "Or, I guess I could just look-" He moves to flip open the folder with the edge of his boot, causing Ahmed to jolt forward. "N-no!" The boy yells, thrusting his hands out in front of him. Patrick scoffs, tossing his head back for a moment as he laughs, clutching at his stomach. "Jesus, Ahmed, what the hell is in here that's got you so spooked?" Patrick asks. Ahmed shivers. Somehow Patrick using his real name is worse than him calling him 'freak'. It feels more personal.

"It's nudes... nude photographs." Ahmed whimpers, a blush of shame spreading across his cheeks as his gaze falls to the floor. "Oh- yours?" Patrick asks. Ahmed doesn't respond, causing Patrick's brows to furrow, an amused and pleasantly surprised expression coming onto his face. "Not yours, huh." Patrick glances down at the folder. "Who the hell's been giving you pussy, freak? Who's been letting you take those pics?" He asks. Ahmed's hands are tense, gripping the fabric covering his knees so hard that he worries they might tear.

"I- they didn't, alright?" Ahmed cries, curling his knees up to his chest and burying his face in shame. "They didn't-" Patrick takes a moment to process this information. His eyes light up in realization. "You really are a little pervert, huh? I knew something was off about you." He puts his hand on his knees, leaning over so he can make eye contact with Ahmed's curled up form. "A sick little pervert. You get off on those photos?" Ahmed whines. "Some poor kid at this school doesn't know that the school freak strokes it every night to a picture of them... poor them." Patrick leans down and picks up the folder.

"Wait, w-what are you doing, you said you wouldn't look if I told you the truth about what was in there?" Ahmed coughs, almost full on hyper-ventilating at this point, eyes wide in panic. Patrick nods, keeping eye contact with Ahmed as he flips open the folder. "True, but..." He shakes his head, his blonde locks falling from his loose ponytail. "How do I know you're telling me the truth about what's in here if I don't look?" Ahmed scoffs. "Why would I lie about having a folder of some creep-shots?" Patrick shrugs. "I don't know, maybe something like that doesn't seem that serious to you, y'know, because you're a pervert." He suggests. Patrick sticks his tongue teasingly out at Ahmed, before looking down at the gritty Polaroids nestled behind some math notes.

The photos are taken from all sorts of places. The ones at the front are simple upskirts from behind, the subjects face not visible. As Patrick examines more of them, he notices they seem to get more invasive. The final photograph was clearly shot at night, a bedroom window visible. The subject of the photo lies nude, and Patrick's face falls when he sees the face. He looks up at Ahmed, his breath halted. "They... they are cute, huh?" Ahmed looks up from his knees, confused. "You know them?" Ahmed swallows harshly, then nods. "Sort of... we have English together." As Ahmed explains the nature of his relationship to you, Patrick flips through the photos once more. Now that he knows these photos are of you, they have an even greater allure. "Hmm, I have lunch period with them, gym too..." He muses. "Heh, you should see em' in those little gym shorts, shit..." Ahmed isn't sure where this is going, but Patrick's calm tone and hyper-focused expression stress him out even more than when Patrick is outwardly aggressive. At least then he's predictable. Right now, Ahmed is in new territory with his tormentor.

Patrick sighs, and tucks the photos back into Ahmed's folder. He smacks the folder into the center of Ahmed's chest, making him let out a grunt as his trembling hands grip the blue plastic. "Listen, freak." He whispers. He places a hand on the wall behind Ahmed, allowing him to move his face right up in front of the boys. Brown eyes look back at him with fear. "Nobody has to know about all this. I'm still gonna kick your ass, but nobody has to know about your..." He thinks. "Let's call it 'extracurricular art project', okay?" Ahmed, gulps, and asks. "What do you want in return, I know the way you are." Patrick chuckles. "You're pretty smart, huh? Alright, I'll tell ya. Get me some of those photos, some new ones. And copy that last one, that shot into their room." He says. "Why, y-you like them too?" Ahmed whimpers. Patrick shrugs. "I know they've got a sweet little body, and I wouldn't mind a closer look at it, that's all." Ahmed considers this. If he doesn't agree, who knows what Patrick would tell everyone. God, Ahmed might even have to change schools again, and if he did, he couldn't be near you. He shakes his head. He won't let that happen.

"Alright, you got it. I- I think I can get them to you by friday." Ahmed offers, and Patrick nods. Ahmed moves to stand, but Patrick pushes him back. "One more thing, freak." He whispers. Ahmed bites his lips in fear. Patrick slips his hand from the boy's shoulder, down past his waist, and to the front of his victims school shorts. He roughly palms Ahmed's limp cock through his pants, making the boy choke on his own spit in shock. Patrick sighs softly at his reaction, leaning in to whisper into his ear.

"Snap me a pic of yourself too, freak..."

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cvnt4him · 8 months ago

Text

Neighbors.

Week 1: new neighbor.

A loud knock at your front door woke you up out of your sleep. You choked on the huge amount of air that invaded your lungs when you inhaled, stumbling on your feet trying to go check the door. Your hair was a mess and you were stressed which is why you simply wanted to sleep your life away.

You open the door and look around to see no one there but a basket present on your door step. You him and pick it up, there were muffins and all kinds of baked goods inside with a little note on top and the cutest bow to tie it all together

Hi! I'm moving in next door and hope we can become good neighbors. #215 izuku midoriya.

For real? My guy couldn't have just spoken to you once he seen you? He had to be a good fucking guy? You sigh and shrug before closing the door and setting the baked goods down on your kitchen counter and heading back to bed, you'll be damned if you were gonna let some shitty neighbor ruin your one off day.

The baked goods had never gotten touched, they just sat as a decorative piece on your kitchen counter. You planned on throwing them out but the little bow was just too cute to give away, how frilly and pink it was. It was like the person who gave it to your knew exactly what you liked.

You sigh looking at them, they hadn't gone bad yet you could eat one if you wanted. You stare at them for a while before realizing, your supposed new neighbor gave you these so how come you've never seen them?

You groan and shake the thought away, you had to head to work and you don't have time to be worrying about some random loser. You grab your jacket before heading out of your house, locking the door behind you. You sigh while clutching your purse on your arm and stuffing your keys inside when you bumped into someone.

"are you fucking kidding me?!"

"oh gosh.. I am so so sorry! are you alright?"

You fell to the ground with a groan barking insults up to the person who had the disrespectful nerve to knock you down. You open your eyes and look up at the strong bulky man in front of you, it was early and the lights outside of your apartment complex were still on so you couldn't exactly see his face. You couldn't exactly tell if his hair was black or not.

He offers you a hand to get up with which you hesitantly take, you just insulted and yelled at this innocent sexy man.. he must hate you! Which is just your luck, a strong sexy man is practically thrown at you by God and you insult him. God you're really good at making people leave.

"I truly am sorry. I should've been watching where i was going."

The man spoke to you again holding your hand in his still as he held perfect eye contact with you, trying to be professional and apologize for his wronging. You couldn't even speak from how beautiful he was now that you could see his face, his freckled chubby cheeks and his worried eyes leering down at you to assure you're alright.

"I.. I.. uhm, yes I am okay, thank you. I'm sorry too, I suppose it's not all your fault i played a part as well huh. Haha..."

You chuckle nervously trying not to embarrass yourself, there was a sexy man in front of you, you seriously cannot blow this. He offers you a light hum with a tilt to his head and a polite smile before speaking.

"I'm your new neighbor! I left you a basket of baked goods from the local bakery about a week ago, sorry I haven't had the time to actually speak to you, im awfully busy!"

Holy hell. He was your new neighbor? The guy who left the basket? Now you have another reason to save and not eat them. You stammer on your words with wide eyes trying to find something good to say as to not embarrass yourself.

"oh that was you? Hah yeah! I devoured those instantly! Thank you so much, you're so sweet! Id love to talk to you more if you'd have me y'know i wouldn't want to like-- bombard you with my presence or anything like you're a god I shouldn't even-- not that i think you're a god-- you know what im just going to stop talking."

You sigh heavily and mumble a low "for fucks sake.." under your breath. Could you be anymore embarrassing? You feel as if you could die from humiliation. The way his eyes widen from the way you ramble on and on about him being a god is so devastatingly humiliating, if the earth were listening you'd ask her to swallow you whole.

The man simply looks at you with a blank expression and wide eyes for a second before giggling above you. Your eyes shoot up to him, had you not just embarrassed yourself? Do you still have a chance?!

"I wouldn't say I'm a god, haha! You definitely aren't the first to say that anyways you have nothing to worry about."

He could tell you felt embarrassed by the way you squeezed your eyes shut and balled your fists, he didn't want you to feel embarrassed over something small! He got compliments of such all the time, some are even worse than that so he considered it high praise anyways.

You two just sat there staring at each other for a minute in your eyes it was the most awkward thing in the world. To him it was just fun between friends, the fact he considered you friends despite meeting this once is wild.

He looked down at you with those melancholy emerald green eyes, you could see the whole world in them. They were so big and bright and held nothing but love and kindness in them.. you would drown in them if given the chance.. the things you'd do to--

"oh! Gosh, I've gotta go! Uhm.. I hope to see you soon?"

"uh, yes! Yes, of course. We'll be seeing each other very soon."

You say confidently before pausing to realize how creepy your sentence sounded. He lifted an eyebrow at your words before brushing it off with a nervous chuckle and a wave goodbye before he jumped away, yellow cape billowing in the wind as he did so. You watched him live with a sigh, he was so hot yet so sweet you couldn't believe this guy was living next to you. Well to be fair these were rather pricey apartments so you could imagine him wanting to be somewhere that's very elegant. Your apartments were pretty beautiful. You sigh and shake everything out of your head and begin heading to work.

You sat at your desk staring out the window. There was nothing to be done at the office today and you were just there mindlessly drifting in a space you didn't want to be in. A knock at your office door took you by surprise, you were startled and whipped your head around to see your supervisor. God you hated this guy, he never knew how to take a hint. He always helplessly flirted and did outdated and annoying pick up lines on you, you didn't want him to feel bad about himself so you always laughed or played like it was good. Unfortunately today you just didn't have it in you to entertain him.

"hey, y/n! How are you today, sweetheart?"

Ugh. What a pig. He could not be serious right now. 'sweetheart' ? disgusting. He was truly working your nerves and he'd hardly even spoken to you. You sigh heavily before fixing your posture and leading your throat.

"I'm here."

"cool cool. So uh, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to go out for drinks with me and a couple of the guys? Since y'know you helped us back those new investors? You're really great at what you do and you're so smart and--"

He started going on and on and on about how cool and smart and sophisticated you are. It was all bologna, he didn't give a shit about you or how smart you were. He just wanted to get into your pants and it was heavily obvious. So much so that you didn't have time to entertain this type of energy.

"look, I don't think so. Not tonight atleast, I mean I have a thing and--"

"please? You don't want to let me down so you? I'd hate to have to put in a bad word in front of our boss.. so could you just come?? For me?"

This motherfucking cunt. He was really gonna blackmail you into having drinks with a bunch of men who thought you didn't belong there? Just because you were a woman? You could not believe this was the hill you were dying on.

"fine.."

You let out lowly and defeated. You were successfully manipulated by some sleazy putz. You could only pray to God this schmuck keeps his word and doesn't say anything bad about you.

"atta girl."

He says with a smirk before walking off eyeing you through your office window. You were sick to your stomach at the thought of whatever was going on inside of his mind.

You sat between a couple of guys who all laughed loudly and looked at the game, they had a few too many drinks and were pretty drunk. You hated being around this kind of energy, it was uncomfortable but if you were going to run that empire one day you needed to be in with the crowd. You had another swig of your drink and chuckled nervously at the lame joke.

"and then I said; you'd have to let it from my cold dead hands!"

"mmm- couldn't have said it better myself, sir."

You say lowly raising your glass along with the other men at the table. They all laugh and silence then fills the table. You gulp down and look around to see them all looking at you. You felt so uncomfortable and nervous and so out of place. You'd never been this socially awkward in your life.

You couldn't figure out why they'd all looked at you like that. Until you looked down to see one of your buttons on your blouse was unbuttoned it showed the top of your boobs perfectly. You hadn't felt it unbutton so you had no idea that it was. You cleared your throat and covered yourself with your jacket before everyone looked away and fell into weak conversation about whatever came to mind.

Being the only woman sucked. This was your life and you hated it. However this put food on the table and got you away from your family so. If this is what it took you figured you could suffer a little while longer until you took this business off from under them. They were all old and uninformed with the new world we're all coming into, you however were prepared so the second you get these investors to recognize you were the real talent and brains behind this empire they'd hand it right to you. You'll be rich.

"I'm going to head out everyone. Have a goodnight."

You bow before walking out of the bar. You couldn't get out fast enough. You exited the building with a breath of fresh air. Being in there with all of those men was suffocating. You couldn't wait to read in the comfort of your own home.

"wait! Y/n! Where are you going? I thought you were gonna hang out with us?"

"i did. For 3 hours straight. I've had far too many drinks and I feel nauseous and it's raining quite hard. I'd like to go home."

You bowed slightly bidding him a good night one last time before trying to leave. He balled his fists and got rather angry with your words. He grabbed you by your wrists and yanked you into his chest, he held you closely with an angry face. His grip on your body and wrist tightened and you could smell the disgusting scent of the alcohol on his breath. It was nauseating.

"where the hell are you going. I told you to stay. You said you were.. were going to hang out with us. You don't want me to tell the boss about how you've been slacking, do you?"

You were terrified, he was drunk and being very rough with you. His grip continued to tighten around your wrist hurting you, you groan and try to push him away before he punches you. His rings bust your lip. You fall to the ground clutching your face in pain. You didn't want to appear weak.. so why had tears started falling down your face? Why couldn't they stop coming down.

"oh.. sh- shit y/n.. I'm so so sorry I didn't.. didn't mean to do that. You- you made me!"

He spoke trying to justify his actions, slurring on his words and hiccuping in between. You sniffled trying to get up holding onto the wall for a clutch. You could not believe this just happened. You were just assaulted by your supervisor. Someone in much higher power than you. You weren't dumb, you knew and were sure that if you even attempted to tell your boss to find a way to turn it around on you. There were few women working in that business and you were in a higher department than them all. You were just going to have to suck this up and push through it.

The man clears his throat and just looks down at you, he tries to help you up but you refuse. You push his arm away and simply get up on your own. You sniffle before spitting the blood that invaded your mouth onto the ground and walked away. You tried to hurriedly get across the street before the cars started moving again. The man called out for you telling you to wait but was stopped by the cars instantly zooming through the wet street.

You finally made it to your apartment wet, shaking, bleeding and in tears. This was something you never imagined would happen to you. You couldn't believe you'd just been assaulted and there was nothing you could do about it. You were helpless to help yourself. You rummage through your to try and find your keys you end up dropping your bag and breaking down. You fell to your knees and covered your face in your hands everything slipped out of your bag and the fact it fell made you even angrier. It was hard to find your keys and now everything was splayed out on the ground.

You were too busy having a mental breakdown to hear the heavy footsteps thudding behind you.

"y/n... Are you okay?"

You gasped lightly and whipped your head around to see the #1 hero himself. Standing above you before kneeling down to help you gather your things. You just look at him with wide puffy red eyes as he gathers your things and puts it all back into your purse for you. He stands and offers you a hand, you just look at him with a shaky breath before hesitantly taking it. He pulls you up into him and your face came flush with his chest.

You stayed there for a lot longer than intended before pulling back and clearing your throat. You sniffle and wipe your face with your hands before grabbing your back and fetching your keys from the ground. You turn back to him with a half assed smile that he seen right through.

"I'm perfectly fine, deku! Thank you for your concern!"

You say before trying to turn around to unlock your door. Before he grabs you by your shoulders and turns you to face him. He looked so concerned he couldn't help but gaso once he seen your lip.

"what happened to your lip."

"nothing-"

"y/n."

God.. the way he used your name against you was just too much. You didn't know if you wanted to cry or kiss him. You go down before fixing your hair and looking down to the ground.

"got into a fight with my coworker."

"are you sure that's it?"

"yes."

He didn't believe you. He seen right through your bullshit. He was rather stubborn as well he was going to stop pestering until you told him.

"I'm serious, y/n. What happened."

"nothing."

His eyes squinted before he pushed your door open and walked you inside. Was this motherfucker seriously just waltzing inside of your house like he owned the damn place?

"what are you--"

"hush. Where's your first aid kit."

"in the bathroo-- are you seriously about to rummage through my shit!?"

You yell as he walked away the second you got out where the kit was hidden. This guy was. A hero sure but why was he acting like your boyfriend. Or your dad. It was weird. Kinda hot but weird.

He came back with the kit and sat you down in your dining room chair, he set the first aid kit on the table opened it and grabbed what he needed. He had an alcohol wipe and he tly dabbed at you cut lip, you winced and closed your eyes from the slight burn of the cold wipe.

He finished cleaning you up and closed the kit and disposed of what he used.

"there you are, all fixed. Now are you going to tell me what happened or do I have to cook you dinner as well."

Yes please!

"no thank you. I'm fine."

"alrihht so tell me what happened."

"oh no I want I'm fine with not telling you what happened, I'll take the dinner thanks."

You say with a wink that makes a slight blush fall onto his cheeks. He sighs and heads into your kitchen, you chuckle to yourself and watch him go as you see the baked goods he gave you about a week ago. You told him that you are them all! Fuck he's gonna know you lied.

He stopped halfway into your kitchen before slowly turning to face you with a suck to his teeth. He hums and puts his hands. On his hips, fuck he looked so sassy and good like that..

"what happened to eating all of those baked goods?"

"i threw them all up..?"

"uh-huh."

He rolled his eyes with a smirk before opening them and grabbing you a muffin, he felt that you needed to eat and in actuality he was far too tired to cook. He doesn't know why he insisted on cooking for you as if he intended on cooking for himself.

"here. Eat up."

You look at it then up to him, you take it peeling the wrapper off then taking a bite. It was actually pretty good.

"thanks.. but what happened to cooking for me, eh, big boy?"

He gets quite flustered at the name a slight shade of pink dusting his cheeks before he clears his throat.

"just eat the damn muffin."

You chuckle and finish it as he takes your scraps and disposes of them for you. He was quite a gentleman. You didn't expect anything less from a hero after all.

He ended up staying for a little while longer, the two of you trailing off into random things you could talk about. Like jobs and favorite snacks and things you like to do in your free time. Just all sorts of random things. The current topic was what he moved here.

"well.. I just moved agencies and needed to be closer to it. I have a lot of locations but this is the one that needed my attention most and they basically just sent me here. This is only temporary."

Fuck. Temporary? You hadn't wanted this to be temporary you wanted it to last a lifetime. You feel like you know him and he knows you, like you're soulmates. You try not to show how down you are due to what he's just shared to you and respond with a slight hum. He noticed however, he was very good at reading people.

"something wrong?"

"no.. nothing at all."

He hums knowing you're lying. Something tells him that this is going to be your relationship for the rest of the time that he's here. Deku didn't really think when he acted, he grabbed you by chin and craned your face up to look at him. He had a stern face while he leered down at you, his Babyface looking so adorable the way he tried to be serious with you.

You were surprised by this and looked up at him with wide eyes. God he was so attractive and it's like he was so comfortable with you. Or maybe he did this with all of his fans, or people he just knew. Maybe he was a natural flirt, was he flirting? God what's going on.

He could tell you were deep in thought and that bothered him. He intended on making you feel better and yet you still seemed to be down. He didn't know what to do. Yet the only thing you could seem to think about was trying not to kiss him. You felt like you were moving closer to him and you were, he was too deep in his own mind to realize how much closer the two of you were getting.

With no thought in mind you gently grabbed his cheek with your hand and kissed his lips. His eyes widened at what was happening, he was so shocked that you had kissed him but hadn't wanted to pull away. You sighed into the kiss before pulling away, your breath slightly taken away. You kept your eyes closed because you could only imagine the heartbreak you were about to experience. You were sure he was going to let you down gently of course because he's just that kind of guy, but either way heartbreak is heartbreak.

It was silent but only for a moment before he cleared his throat causing you to look up at him and lick your lips before looking away quickly. You sniffle and turn your head to look at the ground biting the inside of your cheek. The silence was unbearable and you felt like killing yourself.

Deku didn't know how to react, he was mostly just speechless he didn't intend to give off that kind of vibe to you.. he just wanted to be a friendly neighbor.

"so uhm I'm gonna head out, if you're sure you're alright?"

He says standing and turning to you before heading towards the door. You were too nervous to speak so you just nodded aggressively before he hummed and walked out closing the door behind himself.

You could not believe you just kissed the number 1 hero.

AN: I feel like this is gonna flop bc it isn't smut n I'm mostly known for that but like I enjoyed making this and can't wait to make a pt2 it might take a while bc well...... Yeah. But uhm. Yeah!

#cvnts-post #mha #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #deku x reader #izuku x reader #izuku is so girlie pop #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya #midoriya x reader #midoriya #izuku #midoriya izuku #deku

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hd-junglebook · 11 months ago

Text

Its Always Been You

Part 4 / Word Count 5816

Masterlist

Summary: And so, the trip to Michigan begins with a little surprise guest.

In the dim glow of his bedroom, Jack's world felt like it was crumbling around him. The shadows danced across the walls, mirroring the chaos within his mind. Jack's hands trembled as he held the phone to his ear, his breathing uneven and his heart racing.

"Luke, I don't know what to do with myself," Jack's voice trembled, a mix of anguish and vulnerability. His eyes were glassy with unshed tears, and his free hand clenched into a tight fist.

"I've acted like a complete fool all week. Y/n hates me. I'm feeling… I'm feeling things I never felt before for y/n, and I think I've finally lost my mind."

Luke's harsh tone cut through the silence, his confusion evident. "Jack, what the hell are you talking about?" There was a rustling sound on the other end of the line, as if Luke was sitting up in bed, suddenly alert.

Jack's pacing resumed, his frustration palpable. He ran his fingers through his disheveled hair, his footsteps heavy against the carpeted floor.

The room felt suffocating, the walls closing in on him as he struggled to contain his emotions.

"I told y/n I knew how she felt about me, and then I broke her heart. She left me all alone for three days. Jesus, I just saw her locking lips with some loser in the hallway. It's taking everything in me not to go out there and drag him outside."

"Jack…" Luke barely got out before he was interrupted again.

Before Luke could respond, Jack's voice rose again, defiant and emotional. "I'm not done." He halted his pacing, standing in front of his dresser where a picture of y/n and him sat.

It was from the night of his draft party, a snapshot of happier times. Jack's fingers traced the edges of the frame, his eyes fixated on y/n's smiling face. The photograph seemed to mock him, a cruel reminder of what he had thrown away.

He thought back to that night, his emotions, how he begged her to leave her life behind and move to New Jersey. The memory was vivid, the excitement and hope he felt then now replaced by a crushing sense of regret.

The scent of her perfume, the warmth of her hand in his, the sparkle in her eyes—it all came flooding back, intensifying the ache in his chest.

Rustling came through the speaker of Jack's phone. "I ruined us, Luke. I've ruined the best thing I've ever had." Jack's voice cracked, a single tear escaping and rolling down his cheek.

"Dude, it's almost 12am, and you're babbling about something everyone and their mom knew already. How long did you think you could fight your feelings?" Luke's tone softened, a mix of exasperation and concern.

"I don't know, Luke." Jack stayed still for a moment, his shoulders slumped in defeat. The door of their apartment closed, and he hung up on Luke when he heard footsteps approaching.

Jack perked up, holding his breath as he listened to them get closer. His heart raced, a glimmer of hope sparking in his chest.

Another door closed, leading Jack to swing open his door. Y/n had already closed her door, the click of her lock reverberating through the silent apartment.

Jack's hand hovered over her doorknob, his fingers trembling. He wanted to knock, to apologize, to pour his heart out, but fear and uncertainty held him back.

…

The sound of her alarm woke her from her restless sleep, the shrill beeping cutting through the stillness of the early morning. Her eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the darkness around her.

The room was bathed in a deep, melancholic blue, the shadows clinging to the corners and casting an air of despair. The curtains, a soft, sheer fabric, billowed gently in the breeze from the slightly open window, allowing a sliver of pale moonlight to penetrate the gloom.

"Here we go again," she mumbled groggily, her voice heavy with exhaustion and resignation. The words felt thick on her tongue.

She sat up in her bed, allowing the blanket to fall in a heap on her waist. The sheets, once a comforting embrace, now felt suffocating, tangled around her legs like the thoughts that consumed her mind.

y/n looked around the room with despair, her gaze lingering on the familiar objects that held countless memories—the framed photographs on the dresser, the stack of well-worn books on the nightstand, the discarded clothing strewn across the floor.

Y/n sighed again, the sound echoing in the emptiness of the room. She pushed the blanket off of herself fully, the cool air of the apartment sending a shiver down her spine.

Her steps were light as she dressed herself, opting for comfort over style for the plane ride back to Michigan. She pulled on a soft, oversized sweater, the fabric enveloping her like a comforting hug, and a pair of well-worn leggings that had seen better days.

As she moved about the room, gathering her belongings, the floorboards creaked beneath her feet, the sound amplified by the silence that hung heavy in the air. The scent of stale coffee and the lingering aroma of chocolate chip cookies wafted through the apartment.

Jack's door opened across from her room, his yawning loud against the stark silence of the world outside their little apartment. The sound made her flinch, her body tensing as she braced herself for the inevitable encounter.

She could hear his footsteps, the shuffling of his feet against the hardwood floor, and the rustling of his clothing as he moved about his room.

Y/n rolled her eyes, not ready to interact with Jack just yet. The thought of facing him, of seeing the guilt and regret in his eyes, made her stomach churn. She focused on the task at hand, pulling her suitcase up to the door, the wheels squeaking against the floor.

Her eyes landed on the corkboard that hung on the wall beside the door, the pictures of their innocent smiles and young faces causing her heart to break even more.

In one picture, they were grinning broadly, their arms wrapped around each other's waists as they posed in front of a sunset on the beach. In another, they were dressed in formal attire, attending a friend's wedding, their eyes sparkling with happiness and love.

Y/n's fingers traced the edges of the photographs, the glossy paper cool beneath her touch. A lump formed in her throat as she studied each image. She could feel the sting of tears behind her eyes, the emotions she had been trying so hard to suppress threatening to spill over.

She pulled the door open, rushing past the open bathroom where Jack stood in the mirror, his toothbrush dangling from his mouth and a look of surprise etched on his face.

Y/n moved with the speed of a cheetah, her feet pounding against the floor as she made a beeline for the safety of the kitchen.

Just as she thought she had escaped the awkwardness, the front door jingled, keys rattling against the metal knob like a mischievous poltergeist trying to gain entry.

Y/N stood frozen in place, her body rigid with shock as the door to the apartment swung open. The sudden intrusion had caught her completely off guard, and she felt as if she had been turned to stone, unable to move or speak.

As she watched, a tuft of blonde hair bounced into view, the golden locks reminding her of the fairy tale character Goldilocks. But this was no innocent child stumbling upon a bear's cottage; this was a full-grown woman barging into her home uninvited.

"Daphne? What the hell are you doing here?" Y/N managed to choke out, her voice rising in pitch with each word until it reached a near-shriek. The disbelief and anger dripped from her tongue like bitter honey, leaving a foul taste in her mouth.

Jack's girlfriend fully entered the apartment, dragging a garishly pink suitcase behind her. It was as if she had packed her entire life into that one piece of luggage, ready to move in and stake her claim.

The suitcase was so bright it hurt Y/N's eyes, a beacon of chaos signaling the impending doom that was about to unfold.

From the corner of her eye, Y/N saw Jack emerge from the bathroom, toothbrush still dangling from his mouth. White foam dripped down his chin, making him look like a rabid dog caught in the act.

His eyes widened as he took in the scene before him, darting back and forth between the two women as if trying to comprehend the gravity of the situation he had found himself in.

Daphne's gaze flicked between Jack and Y/N, her initial smile slowly fading as realization dawned on her face. "We planned this months ago, silly," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

"Non-refundable ticket. We talked about this, Jack. It's only been three months; you can't get rid of me that easily."

She let out a laugh that sounded more like a witch's cackle, her eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief and something darker, more possessive. It was clear that she had no intention of leaving, no matter how unwelcome her presence might be.

Y/N felt her heart sink into her stomach, a wave of nausea washing over her as the reality of the situation hit her like a ton of bricks. Daphne was here, in their home, and it seemed that Jack had been keeping even more secrets than she had realized.

The air in the apartment suddenly felt thick and suffocating, the tension so palpable you could cut it with a knife. Y/N's mind raced with a million questions, a million accusations, but she couldn't seem to form the words.

All she could do was stand there, frozen in place, as the world she had built with Jack came crashing down around her like a house of cards.

Jack let out a heavy sigh, his hand rubbing the front of his scalp as if trying to erase the memory of ever agreeing to this disastrous plan. His face scrunched up like he had just bitten into a particularly sour lemon, the bitterness of the situation leaving a foul taste in his mouth.

He glanced sheepishly at Y/N, his eyes darting between the two women like a puppy who had been caught chewing on his owner's favorite pair of shoes.

"Can you give us a sec? Please?" he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he were afraid that speaking any louder would cause the fragile peace to shatter.

Y/N scoffed, her arms crossing over her chest as she fixed Jack with a withering stare. "No, we have to leave soon, and if I don't have my coffee, I just might jump off the plane dealing with you both," she retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Her eyebrows rose so high they nearly disappeared into her hairline, the thought of being trapped on a plane with these two making her seriously consider grabbing a parachute and taking her chances with gravity.

Jack's face reddened, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "We need privacy though!" he said, his voice tinged with annoyance.

He threw his hands up in the air, as if he were trying to physically push away the awkwardness that had settled over the room like a thick fog. "Could you give us some time?"

Y/N let out a humorless laugh, the sound harsh and grating in the tense silence of the apartment. "Oh, you need privacy? That's rich, coming from the guy who couldn't even bother to tell his best friend that his girlfriend was coming to visit."

She shook her head, her eyes narrowing as she fixed Jack with a look that could have melted steel. "You know what? Fine. You two lovebirds enjoy your little reunion. I'll be in my room, packing my bags and booking a one-way ticket to anywhere but here."

With that, she spun on her heel and stalked off towards her bedroom, her footsteps echoing like gunshots in the stillness of the apartment. She could feel Daphne's eyes boring into her back, could sense the smug satisfaction radiating off the other woman in waves.

But Y/N refused to let it get to her, refused to let the hurt and betrayal show on her face. She had always prided herself on being strong, on being able to handle whatever life threw her way. And she sure as hell wasn't going to let Jack or his girlfriend see her crumble.

As she reached her bedroom door, Y/N paused, her hand resting on the knob. For a moment, she was tempted to turn back, to march right up to Jack and demand an explanation.

But she knew that it would be pointless, knew that whatever he had to say would only make the pain worse.

So instead, she took a deep breath and stepped inside, slamming the door behind her with a resounding thud. And as she sank down onto her bed, her head in her hands and her heart in pieces, Y/N couldn't help but wonder how everything had gone so wrong, so fast.

…

Y/N walked back out into the living room, Daphne turned to her with an expression of exaggerated surprise. Her eyes were wide, and a cute smile was plastered on her face, the kind of smile that made you want to pinch her cheeks but also question the sincerity behind it.

"This is your best friend, right? She's a lot shorter than I remember," Daphne said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. It was clear that she was trying to get under Y/N's skin, to establish her dominance in the situation.

Y/N couldn't help but scoff, her eyes rolling so far back in her head that she nearly caught a glimpse of her own brain. "And you're the EX-girlfriend, right?" she retorted, putting extra emphasis on the "ex" part. Two could play at this game, and Y/N wasn't about to let Daphne win.

Jack let out a groan, his head falling back in frustration. "God, just my luck," he grumbled, his eyes rolling so hard they nearly got stuck in the back of his head.

He knew that he was in for a long and uncomfortable conversation with Daphne, and the thought of it made him want to crawl into a hole and never come out.

Y/N took a deep breath grabbing her coffee, the warm liquid providing a momentary comfort before made her way back out to the kitchen. Y/N grasped the cold metal handle, the chill sending a shiver down her spine.

"Let's go before I change my mind," she said, her voice flat and emotionless. She didn't want to give Jack or Daphne the satisfaction of seeing how much this situation was affecting her, didn't want to let them see the cracks in her carefully constructed façade.

…

The journey to the airport had been a tense affair, with Y/N pointedly ignoring Jack's attempts at conversation and Daphne chattering away obliviously in the background.

Y/N could feel Jack's eyes on her, his gaze heavy with unspoken apologies and explanations, but she refused to meet his eye, focusing instead on the passing scenery outside the car window.

they made their way through the bustling terminal, Jack tried once more to pull Y/N aside, his hand gently grasping her elbow. "Y/N, please, can we just talk about this?" he pleaded, his voice low and urgent.

Y/N yanked her arm away, her eyes flashing with barely contained anger. "There's nothing to talk about, Jack," she hissed, her voice sharp as a knife. "You made your choice, and now we all have to live with the consequences."

Jack's face fell, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "It's not like that, Y/N. If you would just let me explain..."

But Y/N cut him off with a bitter laugh, her head shaking in disbelief. "Explain what, Jack? How you don’t like me? How you play this stupid hot and cold game with me? No, I think I've heard enough explanations to last a lifetime."

She turned to walk away, but Jack's hand shot out once more, his fingers wrapping around her wrist. "Please, Y/N," he whispered, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "I never meant to hurt you. You have to believe that."

For a moment, Y/N wavered, her resolve crumbling in the face of Jack's obvious distress. But then she caught sight of Daphne waiting impatiently by the gate, her foot tapping, and her arms crossed, and the anger came rushing back in full force.

"I don't have to believe anything, Jack," she said, her voice cold and distant. "You made your bed, and now you have to lie in it. I just want to forget about all of this and move on with my life. So please, just leave me alone."

With that, she wrenched her arm from his grasp and strode towards the gate, her head held high and her heart shattered into a million pieces.

The seating arrangement on the plane felt like a cruel joke, a twisted game of fate that had placed Y/N in the middle of the very chaos she had been trying to escape.

She found herself sandwiched between Jack and Daphne, her body pressed against the cool glass of the window as if she could somehow merge with the clouds and drift away from the awkwardness that permeated the air.

Jack sat rigidly in the middle seat, his body a tense barrier between Y/N and Daphne. Y/N could feel the heat of his skin, could smell the familiar scent of his cologne, and it made her heart ache with a longing she couldn't quite suppress.

On Jack's other side, Daphne slept peacefully, her head lolling against his shoulder and her soft snores filling the space between them. She seemed blissfully unaware of the silent war raging within Y/N's mind, the turmoil that threatened to consume her from the inside out.

Y/N's foot tapped incessantly against the floor, a nervous habit that betrayed the inner chaos she was desperately trying to conceal. Each tap was like a metronome, counting down the seconds until she could escape the confines of the plane and the suffocating proximity to Jack.

She could feel his eyes on her once more, could sense the weight of his gaze boring into the side of her head. But she refused to look at him. Instead, she focused on the clouds outside the window, on the endless expanse of blue sky that stretched out before her.

Y/N was lost in thought, her mind a whirlwind of emotions and memories, when Jack's hand suddenly shot out, startling her back to reality. Before she could react, he had shoved a headphone into her ear, ignoring the sputtered questions and the look of indignation that flashed across her face.

His fingers brushed against her skin, sending a jolt of electricity through her body. It was a reminder of the connection they once shared, the easy intimacy that had defined their friendship for so many years. Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her heart racing as she tried to process the unexpected gesture.

As the familiar opening credits of her favorite episode of Game of Thrones filled her ear, Y/N's eyes widened in surprise. She glanced at Jack, searching his face for an explanation, but he steadfastly refused to meet her gaze.

His eyes remained fixed on the screen in front of him, as if the answers to all of life's questions could be found in the flickering images.

Y/N couldn't help but steal glances at Jack, her eyes tracing the contours of his face, the curve of his jaw, the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks.

Each glance was a silent question, a plea for him to acknowledge the unspoken words that hung between them. But Jack remained stoic, his attention unwavering, as if he had erected an impenetrable wall around himself.

Even as she tried to immerse herself in the show, Y/N couldn't shake the awareness of Jack's presence beside her. The warmth of his body seemed to seep into her skin, igniting a longing that she had tried so hard to suppress.

She could feel the rise and fall of his chest, could hear the soft whisper of his breath, and it made her heart ache with a bittersweet mixture of love and loss.

Beside her, Jack remained a silent presence, his body so close and yet so far away. Y/N couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking, what he was feeling.

…

Y/N stepped out of the airport, the crisp Michigan air filling her lungs and invigorating her senses. She took a deep breath, savoring the familiar scent of pine and freshly cut grass that always seemed to linger in the air.

The sun peeked through the scattered clouds, casting a warm glow on her surroundings and making the world seem a little brighter, a little more hopeful.

She scanned the crowd of people waiting outside the terminal, her eyes searching for a familiar face. And then, like a beacon in the chaos, she spotted him.

There, leaning against a sleek black car, was Luke. A grin spread across his face as he caught sight of her, his eyes crinkling at the corners in the way that had always made her heart skip a beat. "Y/N!" he called out, pushing himself off the car and striding towards her with open arms.

Without hesitation, Y/N dropped her bags and ran to meet him halfway. She threw her arms around his neck, feeling the solid warmth of his body as he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her off the ground in a spirited hug. For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, and all that mattered was the comfort and familiarity of Luke's embrace.

"I missed you so much," Y/N mumbled into his shoulder, her voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. She breathed in the scent of him, a mixture of cologne and something uniquely Luke, and felt a wave of nostalgia wash over her.

Luke chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating against her own. "I missed you too, shorty. It's good to have you back."

He set her back down on the ground, but kept his arms around her, as if he was afraid she might disappear if he let go. Y/N couldn't help but smile up at him, feeling a sense of warmth and belonging that she hadn't felt in a long time.

Behind them, the sound of footsteps on the pavement broke the spell. Y/N turned to see Jack and Daphne approaching, their faces a mixture of exhaustion and something else, something harder to define. Jack's eyes met hers for a brief moment, a flash of emotion passing between them before he looked away, his jaw clenching.

Luke's arms tightened around Y/N, a silent show of support and protection. "Hey Jack, Daphne," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "Glad you could make it."

Daphne smiled, the expression not quite reaching her eyes. "Thanks for picking us up, Luke. It's been a long flight."

Y/N could feel the tension crackling in the air, the unspoken words and unresolved issues hanging between them like a thick fog. But for now, she pushed them aside, focusing instead on the feeling of Luke's arms around her and the promise of a few days away from the chaos of her life in New Jersey.

Jack moved forward, his arms open wide and a grin plastered on his face, Y/N felt a flicker of hesitation. There was something about his expression that seemed forced, as if he was trying too hard to appear casual and unaffected by the tension that hung thick in the air.

But before Jack could reach them, Luke's hand shot out, smacking the side of his head with a resounding thwack. The sound echoed through the parking lot, drawing the attention of a few curious onlookers. Jack stumbled back, a bewildered look on his face as he rubbed the spot where Luke's hand had made contact.

"Ow, what was that for?" Jack asked, his voice a mix of surprise and mock indignation. His brows furrowed as he looked at Luke, trying to decipher the reason behind the sudden attack. Y/N could see the gears turning in his head, the confusion and hurt flickering behind his eyes.

Luke lowered his voice, his tone stern yet laced with underlying concern. He leaned in closer to Jack, his eyes locked on his brother's, as if he was trying to convey a message that went beyond words.

"For being an idiot and for bringing her here. Did you forget about what you said on the phone?"

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat, her mind racing with the implications of Luke's words. What had Jack said on the phone? What secrets had he been keeping from her, even as he tried to bridge the gap between them?

Jack's face flushed with guilt, the color rising in his cheeks like a crimson tide. His eyes darted to Y/N, then back to Luke, a silent plea for understanding.

For a moment, no one spoke. Y/N could feel Daphne's eyes on her, could sense the other woman's curiosity and suspicion. But she refused to meet her gaze.

Finally, Luke broke the silence, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "Come on," Luke said, releasing Y/N and grabbing her bags. "Mom's waiting at home with lunch. She's been cooking up a storm all morning."

Y/N grinned, the thought of Luke's mother's cooking making her mouth water. "Lead the way," she said, falling into step beside him as they made their way to the car.

As they walked, Y/N could feel Jack's eyes on her back, could sense the weight of his gaze boring into her. But she refused to look back, refused to acknowledge the part of her that still longed for his touch, his presence, his love.

Instead, she focused on the warmth of Luke's hand in hers, on the promise of a few days of respite and healing. And as they drove away from the airport, the skyline of Detroit rising up in the distance, Y/N couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope igniting in her chest.

Maybe, just maybe, this trip would be the start of something new, a chance to leave behind the pain and heartache of the past and find a way forward, one step at a time. And with Luke by her side, and the love of her family to guide her, Y/N knew that anything was possible.

…

Lukes’s car pulled up to the familiar two-story house, Y/N felt a wave of nostalgia wash over her. The red brick facade, the white wooden porch, the sprawling oak tree in the front yard - every detail was exactly as she remembered.

She stepped out of the car, the warm breeze caressing her face and tousling her hair. The scent of freshly cut grass filled the air, a sweet perfume that brought back memories of lazy afternoons spent lounging in the sun and late-night conversations under the stars.

Y/N took a deep breath, letting the peace and tranquility of the moment settle over her like a comforting blanket. For the first time in days, she felt the knots of tension in her shoulders begin to loosen, the weight of her worries and fears slowly melting away.

Beside her, Jack and Daphne were unloading their bags from the trunk, their voices a low murmur against the backdrop of chirping birds and rustling leaves. Y/N hesitated for a moment, her eyes lingering on Jack's face, taking in the lines of stress and fatigue that creased his brow.

In that moment, she made a decision. She was tired of being angry, tired of holding onto the hurt and betrayal that had consumed her for so long. Life was too short to waste on grudges and resentment, too precious to let slip away in a haze of bitterness and regret.

With a determined set to her jaw, Y/N strode over to Jack, her steps purposeful and sure. He looked up as she approached, his eyes widening in surprise and a flicker of hope.

"Hey," she said, her voice soft but steady. "I just wanted to say... I'm sorry for the way I've been acting. I know things have been tough lately, but I don't want to keep dwelling on the past. You're my best friend, Jack, and that's never going to change."

Jack's face softened, his eyes shining with a mix of relief and gratitude. "Y/N, I..." he started, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm sorry too. For everything. I never meant to hurt you, and I know I have a lot to make up for. But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn your trust again."

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat, the sincerity in Jack's words tugging at her heartstrings. She reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I know," she said, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "let's just focus on enjoying this trip and being there for each other, okay?"

Jack nodded, his own smile breaking through the clouds of tension that had hung over them for so long. "Okay," he said, his voice filled with a tentative hope. "That sounds perfect."

Together, they made their way up the porch steps, their hands still intertwined. Y/N could feel the warmth of Jack's skin against her own.

"Welcome back, sweetheart," Ellen said, her voice warm and rich like honey. "We've missed you so much."

Y/N felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “I've missed you too," she said, her voice muffled against the older woman's shoulder. "It's so good to be home."

…

Luke led Daphne and Y/N up the stairs, their footsteps echoing on the hardwood, Jack seized the opportunity to pull his mother aside. His heart raced, palms sweaty as he glanced nervously between her and the staircase, his body practically vibrating with anxiety.

Ellen's brows furrowed, her maternal instincts kicking into high gear as she sensed her son's distress. She placed a gentle hand on his arm, her touch a silent invitation to share his troubles.

"Jack, honey, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice soft and filled with concern. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Jack swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. But there was none to be found, and he knew that he owed his mother the truth.

With a heavy sigh, he guided her to the couch, his movements stiff and awkward. They sat down, the worn cushions sinking beneath their weight, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

Finally, Jack broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. "Mom, I... I messed up. Y/N and I, we had a fight. A big one. And I don't know how to fix it."

Ellen's eyes widened, a flicker of disappointment crossing her face. But she remained silent, allowing her son to continue.

"I didn't tell her about Daphne, and she found out in the worst way possible. And now... now she can barely look at me. I don't know what to do, Mom. I can't lose her."

Jack's voice cracked, the tears he had been holding back for so long finally spilling over. He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs.

Ellen's heart ached for her son, for the pain and regret that radiated off him in waves. She reached out and pulled him into a hug, her arms wrapping around him like a protective cocoon.

"Oh, Jack," she murmured, her voice filled with a mix of sympathy and gentle chastisement. "I know it's hard, but you have to be honest with the people you love. Secrets have a way of coming out, and they always hurt more in the end."

Jack nodded, his face still buried in his mother's shoulder. "I know," he said, his voice muffled by the fabric of her shirt.

"I just... I didn't want to hurt her. But I ended up doing exactly that." Ellen pulled back, her hands coming up to cup Jack's face. She looked him in the eye, her gaze filled with a wisdom born of years of love and experience.

"Do you remember the time that boy was bothering Y/N in school?" she asked, her voice soft and reminiscent. "You came home with a black eye and a split lip, but you were so proud of yourself for defending her."

Jack's lips twitched, a hint of a smile breaking through the tears. "Yeah, I remember. She was so upset, but I just wanted to make her feel safe."

Ellen nodded, her own smile mirroring her son's. "You brought her back here, to this very house. And you let her lay her head on your lap, and you caressed her hair until she fell asleep. Do you remember what I told you then?"

Jack's brow furrowed, his mind stretching back to that distant memory. "You said... you said that love is the most pure thing you can feel."

Ellen nodded, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her lips. "And I see it in you, Jack. When you look at her. You love her, don't you?"

Jack took a deep breath, his shoulders straightening his heart skipping a beat at his mother's words. He had always known, deep down, that his feelings for Y/N went beyond friendship. But to hear it spoken aloud, to have his deepest secret laid bare... it was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"I... I don't know what to say, Mom," he stammered, his cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and longing. "Y/N and I, we're just friends. And besides, Daphne...” He trailed off, his eyes flickering towards the staircase where his ex-girlfriend had disappeared just moments before.

Ellen sighed "Jack, honey, the longer you wait, the harder it's going to be. Sooner or later, you're going to decide whether you want to be with her in that way or let her go and find love in someone else.”

Jack stood up, his heart lighter than it had been in days. He hugged his mother one last time, breathing in the comforting scent of her perfume. "You're right, Mom. I need to be honest with myself, and with Y/N. But... but I can't do it now. Not with Daphne here. It wouldn't be fair to anyone."

"Ellen patted his cheek, her touch a silent benediction. "I understand, sweetheart. But don't wait too long, okay?

…

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