#get thrown in the hells again. loser

[andi-o-geyser]

goddd zerxus’ success rate for backing a winning side is so shit. you’re 2 for 2, buddy. vecna isn’t a better bet than the literal lord of the hells

[iwriteyanderes2023]

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.

[deadghosy]

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-”

[sharkenedfangs]

— ☆ “IN THE IMAGE OF YOU.”

— #. synopsis. all in all, the entirety of what was meant to be said, thoroughly snuffed out by a stuttered curse is hastily stifled in favour of carefully processing what he’s currently being greeted with, once again. little shit that dared to impulsively walk upon an important moment meant to be properly spent with himself, and of course— it’s you of all people responsible for that result. well, not exactly you— but, still you. 

— #. content warning! dub-con, anal fucking, degradation, brief mentions of past bullying entailing physical abuse, coercion, implications of medical malpractice, doctor harper behind the scenes, former bastard or not— neurosurgeon male whitney, amnesiac male reader and some actual pining on the blonde’s part.

— #. word count? 5.2k — longer than initially intended.

— #. what is it this time, asher? : “pretty sure you’re not supposed to trust the filthy doctors in this town, including your ex-bully. better luck next time. this one is for my dear shoku, @shoknsfw.”

Though, perhaps the very last of things Whitney would’ve predictably expected there to be, patiently awaiting for him at the end of the day, would be— well, this thing. Not that he necessarily knows what the actual fuck ‘this’ is, but he’s getting the slightest idea that his boss is as fuckin’ insane as he had initially thought of him to be. Or others, in the past, have repeatedly warned him so of, too.

Sure, he’s not a mindless moron and he remains acutely aware of the shady rumours carelessly thrown around here and there amongst the nosy patients, accompanied by that fuckin’ Sydney profusely muttering out against his boss. Some incoherent tangent, he — himself, wouldn’t genuinely understand either way, fuck. Still, this.. This wasn’t in the goddamn job description nor did he ever truly expect it to be cuz’ there’s no way in hell he would’ve so easily accepted a simple offer such as this one. Seamlessly roping him into another one of his sick experiments, notably those involving others without their spoken consent, and would’ya look at that? 

Naively fell for it this time without sparing the slightest thought as to why — doctor Harper of all people — would be in potential need of his gracious help. Idiot, ever heard of that freak selflessly askin’ for one’s hand in a time of desperation, openly expressing his innate admission to defeat? Real funny, huh? Not so fuckin’ funny when he’s awkwardly left to deal with this complex issue within his own working hours, said time originally meant to be taken as a mere moment of solitude, of some much-needed tranquility in exchange for his gruelling hours tirelessly spent in good efforts, now solely ruined by this unfaithful encounter. 

Okay, cutting the entire crap up— it was originally intended to be spent miserably jerking off alone in the middle of his office like some crude loser. Not that he’d ever truthfully admit it to anyone, this.. otherwise unhealthy habit or perhaps, addiction he’s progressively took on due to the sheer amount of stress burdening him as a surgeon, weighing upon his slouched shoulders everyday. It’s— It’s not like it’s fuckin’ bad! Coping mechanism or whatever, it beats the stinking scent of nicotine faintly lingering on the material of his coat, a hint of the godawful smell, repeatedly going out for a ‘quick’ smoke whenever things gradually took its toll on him to the point it’d annoyingly kept him from getting some precious shut-eye at night. Like he possibly needed more on his already, busy and stuffed plate too, of all times. 

All in all, the entirety of what was meant to be said, thoroughly snuffed out by a stuttered curse is hastily stifled in favour of carefully processing what he’s currently being greeted with, once again. Little shit that dared to impulsively walk upon an important moment meant to be properly spent with himself, and of course— it’s you of all people responsible for that result. Well, not exactly you— but, still you. 

See, the tentative peering of your gaze, quizzical cock of your head noticeably tilting to the edge of the doorway to openly display your shared confusion at his presence, the same way he, himself, is not entirely amused by your sudden pop-in either. “Hello— Oh, you’re not mister.. Harper, are you?” Stupid fuckin’ scanning of his slouched frame sat atop the creaking, wooden chair audibly squeaking throughout the otherwise narrow room and— god, why do they build these things so damn loud?? Not the point here, y’a moron. 

Sputtering out a cuss out of pure habit because sure, he’s a professional doctor now or should be notably referred to as such, however, doesn’t mean he’s about to fully give out on his old, habitual gestures. Nearly had a heart attack at the ripe age of twenty-one due to your sheer incompetence and, ah— he’s becoming like those old folks repetitively reprimanding younger people for their lack of care and attentiveness or.. something. Fuck, either way, therein lies the single question in his mind; what are you, of all people, precisely doing here? In the staffs room of all places? 

“Shit, you scared me..” Huffing out annoyingly at your unwanted arrival or maybe, it is a good coincidence that he’s luckily granted with a long-awaited reunion with one of his memorable victims in high school. Fleeting days he had long since pushed past by then, but.. he’s not entirely against the mere idea of sneakily revisiting that foggy era solely for the sake of recollecting those notable, cute expressions you’d make, all scrunched up and flustered.. Spurred on further by the fuckin’ sounds of yours too, in the narrow stalls of the bathroom and, fuck— Enough of that, gotta get to the point one way or another to initially receive a reply to his beckoning curiosity itching to be answered. “Why’re you even here? What? Got an appointment with Harper or somethin’? Well, he’s not here and I don’t know where he is, so either you come back later or just—“

“An appointment? No, no. I just was supposed to put these— here, and— Sorry, was I not supposed to come here?” Plainly interrupting him with your oddly.. formal way of speaking. Since when the fuck do you even speak like that again? Last time he’s checked — which was years ago— you’re not exactly the eloquent type like that goody-two shoes Sydney nor overly polite like Robin either. You’re just. Fuck, well— you’re you with a hint of defiance. Not this. Whatever this is.

“..No, this is the staffs room. I don’t see why the hell you’re even here to begin with. Do you need something? I’m sort of in the middle of my break right now.” He grunts in return, visible scowl appearing upon his sharp features to then, thereafter, dissipate entirely when met with your confused face to his gruff response.

Right, right. Supposedly obligated to keep up with all that polite etiquette crap which he miserably fails to do so in the face of your presence. How your pathetic, little self comes and numbly reduce him to the rebellious bully he previously once was truly fuckin’ messes with him. Because, there’s no goddamn way that your reaction towards him, after all these years— after every shitty thing he’s done to you, especially the whole sucking off thing — would be so minimal, right?? Or has he become so unrecognizable in the span of just a few years that you, yourself, don’t precisely know who he, in fact, truthfully is? Surely, a slight shift in his usually messy, ruffled hair now mildly slicked back to intently follow hospital’s policies and a pair of glasses isn’t that major of a change, is it? 

Unless you’re as stupid as he had thought of you to be, blatantly ignoring that minute detail of forcibly shoving his every homework and assignment on you too. Hah, funny. Even funnier is that blank look you absentmindedly regard him with, as if you’re not quickly getting the fuckin’ hint that he’d like some alone time now. Real fast on that area, aren’t ya? Slut. Get on with it already.

“Huh, I could’ve sworn I got the right room though..” Your subtle head shakes and spared glances around to anywhere but him shouldn’t be so damn cute to him. Fuck, he sure as hell would like to redirect your precious attention to him only. Like a petulant child secretly throwing a tantrum for the lack of importance currently being given to him here. 

Arms expectantly crossed across his broad chest, foot idly tapping against the tiled floor below in a pure display of his ever burgeoning impatience. “Well? Answer the question. Do you need something or not?”

“Um, well— yes. Mister Harper told me to put these here and gather a sample from.. someone.” Mister Harper? Why’re you even.. referring to him as that, unless.. Hesitancy lacing your tone as if he isn’t carefully hanging upon every lull within your voice, ah— how he’s actually missed the lilt of it during the excruciatingly long lessons of math class being boringly taught to by that.. one teacher. What’s their name again? Right, River. Something like that. 

“Um.. I’m sorry, have we.. met before? Are you Whitney, by any chance?” Promptly blurting that out of the blue, puzzling gaze deftly meeting his as his own eyes immediately widen in exchange. Finally recognized him? Is that it? Was about damn time already and he’s not one to particularly lie in situations such as these ones, right? More like he desires to hungrily drink in the mere sight of your face, the slightest flicker of recognition amongst your softened features when reality fully settles in. 

That meek demeanour you’ve adopted so abruptly towards him does irk him however, to say the least. Never really been the timid type nor the likes when it came to him, if anything, you’d openly be opposed to his every cruel method of tormenting others. Hell, he’d know it— he’s grown familiar with your childish antics by now despite the warping time easily slipping past his tight-held grasp. Hah, knows it better than anyone else when it comes to you, as cheesy and downright ironic that might appear to others. A bully cheekily aware of their victim’s peculiarities and this, right here, is bound to take its due course.

“Yeah, that’s right. That’s me. Long time no see, huh?” Clicking his tongue in this unadulterated need, itch meant to be satiated— fuck, in utter disbelief that he almost called you by that old nickname once again. Slut. As much as he’d like to dumbly feign ignorance considering the circumstances at hand, that this is the most uncomfortable way you could possibly reunite with someone of your high school days— he knows better than to do so.

Continuing on further, maybe as an idle distraction for the aching hard-on fervently twitching against the front of his trousers, hopefully concealed enough by his slouched posture or otherwise awkward angle from below here. Wouldn’t want you taking notice of that, would he? “So, are you going to tell me what’re you actually doing here or not? I’ve got things to do and only staff are permitted to enter this room.” Skip the formalities goddamnit and just get to the fuckin’ point! He’s got one to rub out here and the annoying, pretty face he’s used to stupidly jack off to, in high school — suddenly appearing before him out of nowhere — isn’t necessarily helping matters here either!

“Oh— I see, so that means you’re.. the guy that—” Jesus Christ, he’s uncertain whether to sarcastically repeat your dumbfounded expression in a snarky remark or simply shut himself up in favour of awaiting for your next move. Though, of course, you promptly do the honours for him in return to the affirmed confirmation to your confused questioning. And truly, nothing could’ve properly prepared him for the next set of your unpredictable actions as your peering gaze soon shifts to that of unbridled shock at the sudden discovery of his identity — to then, take on that oddly bright glimmer within your eyes. Little scrunch of your nose, ah fuck— shouldn’t be so cute — as if carefully processing this newfound fact, innocent tilt and frown ever so slowly creeping up to the corner of your rosy lips in a pure display of perplexity in face of this.

“Excuse me, sir.. But I really need to do this real quick, if you don’t mind.” Why’re you suddenly settled atop the barely dusted ground, on your knees and— and, fuckin’ looking so goddamn methodical for?? Blatantly discarding the mere fact that you’re also, brazenly acting like a complete stranger in this instant, impulsively throwing yourself onto him — whether it’d be with open arms invitingly welcoming you or not — openly placing your oddly cold palms against his sides, practically clinging upon his frame for no reason whatsoever other than.. God, actually why’re you fuckin’ tugging at the hem of his— his pants, right now?! Fumbling at his zipper, hastily unbuckling his belt with a light jingle to irresponsibly sprawl across the tiled floor.

“H-Hey! Wha—What the fuck’re you doing??” Blubbering out, in sheer, utter shock when his legs should’ve notably been begging him to move, kick you away like some other stray cat uselessly pawing at him in one of the deserted alleyways, yet his feet remain firmly planted onto the floor — paralyzed even, reeled off his initial tracks as this naturally plays out to the likes of a.. cheap, porno film. 

Y’know, the ones he’d absently flip through whenever work drew on a bit too slowly for his tastes, randomly picked the nearest magazine idly displayed on his side and there you go; Bunch of freaks fuckin’ bringing shitty porn in a sacred place, namely the clinic he dutifully worked in. Ain’t that funny? Not that he can’t similarly sympathize, he’s just as much as a pervert as those lustful patients, just better at concealing it.

Oh, who’s he fuckin’ kidding? Conceal? Like the painfully evident hard-on visibly twitching against his boxers, soaking wet patch of sticky pre-cum darkening the shade humiliatingly bare for your eyes to calmly take in. Feathered breaths wistfully close along the outline of his aching dick insistently throbbing in response to the puff of heated air blown out— god, way too fucking close for his tastes. Yeah, he’s known you for being surprisingly crude at certain times, specially when you’d actually readily obey to his orders in math class like sloppily sucking him off, messily coating his cock in a layer of translucent spit underneath the wobbly desk while slobbering all over his fat balls as he made no effort to stifle his guttural groans, but— but, damn.. Thought you would’ve left those slutty tendencies long behind you after those few years, slut. Guess he’s thought wrong and been disproven once again.

“I’m taking a sample as I promised mister Harper that I would. Now stay still for me, it’ll just take a second — a couple minutes, to be exact if all goes well.” Mister Harper this, mister Harper that, he’s got half a mind to curiously question you as to what’s up with the unnatural, formal name calling because since when did you refer to the local doctor in town — partially known for being a freak by a limited bunch, though few actually made it out to tentatively whisper out the tale — as Mister?? Which, his main objection should logically be plainly getting you off of him, but with his arms hanging limply at his sides, instead settling upon reluctantly tugging at the silky strands of your hair, he’s not making much progress to say the least.

“S-Sample?? Sample of what— fuck! Get your hands off my fuckin’ pants before I report your ass to security!!” Preferably, he would’ve unavoidably settled with knocking the lights out of you— still, is a tad bit too far lest he wants to get fired from his prestigious job — ah, since when is being a surgeon tirelessly worked to death exactly seen as an accomplishment again? To hell with this, he should’ve been a smuggler or some shit. 

“I need a sample of your semen, so you just gotta keep still for a second.” As you assertively claim your reasoning for this all which still makes no sense, by the way— why the fuck would you or should he say, doctor Harper need his fucking jizz in the first place anyway? “What was it again.. Need to stimulate this part of your dick till you climax, correct?” Alright, now you’re just being too clinical with your wording, shivering into your touch, the delicate trace of your supple fingertip running along the curve of the veiny underside of his shaft nearly enough to have him push aside the unbelievable logistics of what this is inevitably leading to.

Beyond that puzzling rambling, a tinge of disgust lurches in his heart, towards himself for being unable to lay the slightest hand on your angelic face due to how adorable you appear in this moment. Pretty, stupid fuckin’ pretty boy, god. Said it twice cuz’ that’s just how pretty you are to him. Despite literally forcing him to be naked from the waist down against his will, okay— not fully convinced about that last part. This is playing out too well like one of his depraved fantasies, you, all obedient and pliable, pushing him to his withering limits. 

And if your insistent, albeit nonsensical explanation is meant to supposedly soothe his frantic panic and bewilderment of this unfavourable situation, then that’s immediately thrown out the window as your invasive hands shamelessly strip him down to basically nothing, save for his boxers that’s also— ah, fucking shit.. swiftly being chucked down too. Muttered curses and maybe, the meanest swears and insults that would’ve put a seasoned sailor to shame, aimlessly falling upon deaf ears. After all, he’s but a man, is he not? So, don’t fault him for his body to instinctively experience a natural reaction when a pretty mouth is so stupidly close to his bare cock, springing free of its unbearable confines to then audibly slap against his toned stomach, smear the already present, pearly pre-cum along the curve of his tummy with a sigh. Fuck, he’d just about pin you down and fill you to the brim right then and there, as if.

So what’s stopping him from doing so anyway? 

Clearly, you’re asking for it, if not in the weirdest of ways. Cleanly popping his leaking cock between your too soft lips, outwardly hissing at the wet warmth he’s sought to crave late at night with his sheets haphazardly thrown aside to give way to his fat, drooling cock frustratingly squeezed in the cup of his palm. Red, hot tip dribbling out thick globs of pre-cum along his tense tummy, arm lazily thrown over his face to stifle his ever growing curses of dissatisfaction. Not enough though, not fucking enough— because nothing truly beats the squishy, tight insides he’s come to secretly cherish, if not take for granted, of his stupid, little slut. An addict is what he is, pathetically yearning for the chance to at the very least, indulge himself once more in that sickly, tight heat one last time, just one last fuckin’ time, god. Upper lip curling upward at the sheer thought as he miserably drives himself to shoot his spent seed, messily splattering along his stomach to then paint his chest white in the same crude manner. What a fucking sight, huh. Whitney, former bully in the making, stained in his own cum cuz’ no other bitch does it for him much like you do.

But, as often spoken by most— old habits die hard, do they fuckin’ not? It’s instinct on his part, so you really shouldn’t cruelly place the fault onto him when he’s practically manhandling you on the squeaking bed instead, usually meant for carefully inspecting sickly patients and the likes. New purpose found, he guesses. “Fine, you wanna do this then? I’ll give y’a my fuckin’ cum you’re so desperately askin’ for, you whore— so, don’t start crying now.”Crinkly, thin, barely translucent sheet of paper laid atop the surface, audibly shifting underneath your sudden weight. Thought you had him beat? Well, guess what? He’s kept you snugly stuck beneath the heel of his foot during the entirety of high school, so what’s the goddamn difference if he does it now as older adults? 

Just.. a slight change in the way it’s done and, you wouldn’t mind, would you? By the looks of it, familiar squeaks he’s recurrently heard, partially muffled by the thumping blood hurriedly rushing to his head— and fucking south too, though that doesn’t need to be said twice, y’know. Heaving groan at the feel of his bare cock already instinctively rubbing himself against the outline of your own, cute cock incidentally stuck in your pants. Collective, shared gasps slipped out in tandem with each full rub of his twitching length smearing a sticky mess across the patched outline of your shorts. 

“Fuck.” Cute. Unconsciously cursing to himself at the welcoming warmth your soft body provides when encompassed by his own bigger one— know how much he’s missed ya all this time? Pawing hands that he somehow can’t manage to keep to himself when you’re around, and it’s not his fault, really. Zeroing gaze descending downwards to where your leaking cock rests so cutely against your tummy, fuckin’ asking for it, aren’t you?

Did ‘mister Harper’ make you wear those all-too tight, fitting shorts to accentuate your plush thighs or somethin’ too, huh? Prepped you all up and pretty for him? Speaking of that freak, he’ll make note to visit the little cunt later once he’s done with you, either punch the lights out of him or reluctantly thank him for the opportunity made by him— maybe both, actually. Far too busy in greedily inhaling the dizzyingly sweet scent exuding out of your frame, no matter how weird that may seemingly appear to others. Comfortably tucking his nose in the crook of your neck in favour of mindlessly humping himself stupid between your forcibly spread legs to actually catch the slight tilt of his glasses slipping downwards, on the verge of falling forth before coincidentally caught by your fumbling hands slicked in sweat. Aren’t you so helpful? Gotta hand it to ya, your preventive action merely spurs on this creeping idea in his disgusting mind, itch meant to be satiated as he coldly dotes a single, rather simple order upon you. 

“Put ‘em on.” He simply grunts out of the blue, gaze fixated on the quiver of your bottom lip, ah— fuck. He’d like to suck on it and stain it sticky with his cum and spit, give it a little bite while he’s at it too, watch it prettily bloom red beneath the sharpness of his teeth. Would look so cute like that, wouldn’t y’a?

“Huh?” Wide, puzzled eyes confusingly blinking back at him cuz’ isn’t it obvious what he’s asking for? He wants you to slip on those pair of glasses, his glasses, to be exact. 

“I said, put ‘em on.” Even if the gesture itself, despite not being that big of a deal brings a certain, feverish heat to his cheeks as it’s sort of intimate for a man like Whitney to be willingly shoving his property onto another, generously sharing it with you his own possession like the glasses he routinely wears to work everyday. Useless to repeat himself any further, but like a good boy, you abide to his crystal clear instructions— shakily placing the rims onto yourself, breath immediately caught in his throat at the sight of your averting eyes stubbornly set downcast to avoid his piercing gaze boring a hole into your flushing face. 

God, you’re way too cute for your own good, aren’t you? Something— something about you wearing those— his glasses, to be exact, has his mouth dumbly hanging open, palms eagerly pawing at your supple legs, tender flesh beneath his grasp that’s so fuckin’ delicate it might as well break, decisively ripping your shorts down to display your soft, wanting hole for his awaiting, throbbing cock. “W-Wait! Don’t look!”Cutest squeaks he’s ever heard as your palms instantly cover your puckered entrance and cock like that’ll actually stop him from repeatedly slamming his entire length inside your fragile body, openly snarling at your measly attempt to hide your wet and ready hole from his prying eyes greedily drinking in the pretty sight that greets him in return— etch it to memory if he could and oh, he will. Whether you want it or not.

“Fucking shit— and you act like you don’t want it. Don’t go lying to me when you want it just as bad as I do.” It’s a bold admission on his part, yet he remains intricately aware that he’s the one who’s right here, isn’t he? Hand raising upwards to meet your face, hopefully untouched by that other freak’s claws or he might as well bust his face in too. Calloused thumb uncharacteristically tender in its strokes along your blazing cheeks. Little, heated sighs of apparent relief once you’ve eased into the blonde’s abnormally soft touch to then, suddenly morph to a rougher form as his fingers harshly dig in the softness of your cheeks, forcibly keeping you in his hold so that he may direct your gaze to his own figure towering over yours. Bitten lip meant to fuck, loudly sighing at your annoyingly cute face accompanied by his smudged glasses resting atop your nose. “Look what’ya do to me, gettin’ me all hard and shit, and then you suddenly wanna back out now? No fucking way, slut. I’ll give you what you want— I’ll give you my fuckin’ cum, so keep still for me.”

Not a heeding warning, but a command which you should notably be listening to, by the way, if you’ve retained any foggy memories of the shit he’s cruelly had you endure back in high school. Plush thighs firmly pinned against your chest, full view of your tight, little hole, ass and balls to appreciatively take in for the briefest of moments. Ah, he’s missed this so goddamn bad, y’know? Directly lining up his pulsing cock head dribbling out fat globs of pre along your entrance, relishing in that curled, wide-eyed expression of yours, parted lips he’d like to just shove his slippery tongue into— fuck. Either mixed with utter fear or maybe, actual, shared desire for this as much too, that he’ll settle upon it being both for the sake of his sadistic mind. You wear fear pretty well, don’t’cha think? 

So much so that he can’t help, but precariously crane his head over to fully paint the sight to mind like the prettiest of pictures he’s ever been graciously blessed to witness. “Pretty.” He muses inwardly, subconsciously, without the slightest sense of awareness of the overly soft praise he’s just given you. Too fuckin’ busy in cutting himself off as the slippery wet tip of his fat cock so effortlessly slides in your tight hole with ease,  no sense of handling you with care when you’ve been such a damn tease about it too— because ah, fuck— know just how long he’s been waiting for this opportunity? Fucking, slicked walls instinctually clamping down around his throbbing length, hissing at the burning stretch of your hole gradually accommodating to the girth of his cock. Muted whines, fluttering lashes wet with bubbling tears threatening to spill forth, pink tongue discreetly peeking out to delicately lick away at the sheer proof that he’s potentially hurting you, or maybe not. Looks more like you actually enjoy having a fat cock up your ass— your ex-bully’s too.

Conflicted between the helpless babbles the sharp, punishing snap of his hips flush against your backside draw out from you and the scrunch of your features undeniably spelling pleasure. “Fuck— hah, fuck.. D-Don’t look at me like that. I’m fuckin’ giving you what you’re asking for, aren’t I?” God, he looks just as dumb as you right now, head thrown back, eyes automatically rolling to meet his skull from just how goddamn nice it is to be snugly stuffing your whorish boy hole full of his twitching length— fuuuuuckkk. Golden locks of hair unceremoniously tumbling forth to conceal the strained expression etched along his face, biting of his bottom lip and the sharp puffs of air endlessly being exhaled out of his hanging mouth. Palms locked upon your slutty waist, practically using your lithe frame as though you were a squishy flesh light— which, by all means, you definitely beat the actual feel of it, shit, only your stupidly warm hole would’ve gotten him this dizzyingly high off of the wet sensation enveloping his cock. Only stupid, little, ol’ you— really. 

Frustratingly gritting his teeth at your feeble head shakes despite the full-on body shudders of your quivering legs held— no, fucking raised high, feet resting atop his shoulders mainly used as a means of support. “N-No— ah, don’t l-like it. Uh, I don’t like it—” Alright, keep telling yourself that then, with your fists decisively clenched upon your chest, rosy, pink nipples evidently erect in the cooling air of the closed room. Hard cock cutely bobbing up and down in times with each of his sloppy thrusts accompanied by the squirming bulge of the outline of his cock fully sheathed in your slippery warm insides, protruding against the flesh of your tummy. ‘Don’t like it’ my fucking ass, you’re about this close to cummin’ hands free from your old bully’s cock harshly shoved up your hole. 

And truly, he’d be nothing more than content to aid in that— it’s where your rightful place has always been, hasn’t it? Glasses somehow not clumsily knocked off your drooling face, smudged with the heated huffs steaming up the air. Within arms reach, in his unrelenting grasp that his self-deluded mind has dumbly convinced Whitney of so. ‘Course, why wouldn’t he have thought so of it earlier? Dotting smile, lashes prettily staring back at him with a rosy flush adorning your cheeks. Outstretched arm gleefully welcoming him in— your fucking husband in, to be exact in that matter. Wouldn’t you be so kind to carefully reach for his worn coat, seamlessly slip it off his taller frame as you dutifully greet him like a caring husband should? Timidly reward him for the tireless efforts he’s put in after a long, torturous day of work. Pouty lips lovingly tracing his jawline, your soft palms he’d wish for nothing more than to constantly cling upon his body everyday, every second actually — comforting warmth he’d fervently seek out and easily find when you’re so tenderly embraced within his arms. 

It’s stupid, so fucking stupid that it’s that single thought that merely drives him to the edge. Whitney, fuckin’ him of all people to be experiencing such domestic thoughts, never been much of a family’s man or so others predictably think so of him, but— fuck, would it be so damn bad if it were you instead, happily greeting him at the edge of his doorstep every day— for the rest of his godforsaken life?? Devotedly stuck to his side? Yeah, hah. Actually, he’d like that a whole lot, really. “God, ah— fuck— fuck, cummin’— hah, fuckin’ cumming inside you, ‘kay?” High-pitched whine, all too soft to be a sound belonging to the blonde’s parted lips, stuttered curses at the slight twitch of his full length noticeably quivering deep inside your slutty hole. Hot, white spurts of his sticky seed uncontrollably squirting out of his fat cock to messily stain your insides tacky with his cum— ah, shit. Really is no better than that fucker after all, is he? 

Still, he can’t go letting your weeping cock miserably go neglected, can he? Thumb insistently nudging at the flesh of your pouty lips, snidely grinning at your reluctant obedience as your shakily part your mouth open for the spit coated digit to slip in. “Good boy.” Haven’t cum yet, have you? Well, that would be too bad if he were to cruelly leave you be as you are, though good thing Whitney has changed for the better, right? Previous bully reformed and all that— thanks to society, right? 

Oh, who’s he kidding— hah. Change? Progress slipped way off the second his gaze landed upon your all too nosy one in his office. 

You look better with his cum lodged in your hole, wobbly lips and tear stained cheeks anyway.

[glitterjay]

— 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.

© glitterjay | tumblr | any feedback is very much appreciated! feel free to use my ask or reblog!

[luveline]

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.” 

[urlovebot]

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

[whore-ibly-hot]

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..."

[kujiba]

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

[cvnt4him]

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!

[hd-junglebook]

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?

…

Tag List <3

@favsrachz @jacktoria4ever @bunbunbl0gs @ivy-34 @rebelatbay @bxtchopolis

[kleftiko]

❦ CHERRY PICKING

cw: mature, virgin!shigaraki, fem!reader, dry humping, unprotected sex, cream pie, corruption kink, loser gamer shigaraki (love this shit)

it wasn’t a secret. he stared shamelessly at your tits while you spoke, and you didn’t even bother to let him know cause you knew he wasn’t doing it on purpose. every time someone in the league would call him out on his blatant behaviour he’d turn red and leave immediately.

so it wasn’t a stretch to say he wanted to fuck you.

thing is, he was so obviously a virgin. couldn’t even fake knowing how to talk to a woman. and he must’ve been so masochistic cause he just couldn’t stay away from you. just yesterday, he was a second away from popping a boner when you bent over to pick up something you dropped. and you weren’t even trying to rile him up!

god, you wanted to just eat him up.

you wanted to break him down and you wanted to ruin him. you wanted him to never be satisfied with his fist or anyone else ever again.

so you went into his room, somewhere no one was allowed. who would want to, anyway. garbage bags thrown around on the floor—not even closed, so you could see crumpled up tissues falling out—dual monitors and a bunch of little figurines around his desk.

the constant clicks of his keyboard, his dry eyes glued to the screen, and the headset over his tangled hair kept him from noticing you sitting on his unmade bed. your gaze looked at his side profile, watched his pupils shoot back and forth across his game. he was so cute, you couldn’t wait to hear what kind of noises he’d make.

at some point, you couldn’t sit still anymore, you got up and walked over to the back of his chair, focus trailing over his screen and down to his hands. long, rough fingers that knew exactly what they were doing played with the mouse and the keyboard, you almost drooled at the thought of what you could teach him to do.

“you’re good with your fingers.” you said and shigaraki jumped.

“what the hell are you doing?” he hissed and you watched his character die.

“i wanted to see you.” you smiled.

“no.” he said a little too quickly.

“no?” you laughed and he shook his head to try and clear his mind. “what do you mean ‘no’?”

“i-i mean—fuck—why are you here?” he scratched at his neck and you took a seat back on his bed.

“isn’t it obvious?” you asked.

shigaraki didn’t say anything. his eyes just watched you, trailed over your body as you sighed.

“tomura~” you sang and patted the spot next to you.

it didn’t take him more than a split second to stand up, once he did, though, he hesitated to walk over, but listened to you anyway.

his fingers still scratched at his skin, so you took it in your hand and pulled it away.

“have you ever kissed anyone, tomura?” you asked and he paused, then shook his head, looking anywhere but at you.

“i’m sure you know how to though, right?”

shigaraki scoffed. “of course i do.”

“then kiss me.” you turned his chin towards you. your eyes fluttered a bit, just wanting to feel him. the thrill of knowing your his first is enough to make you wet.

but shigaraki was taking too long. too damn long. he was hesitating and as much as you loved his shyness, you couldn’t help it anymore.

you crashed your lips onto his. they were dry and cracked, and didn’t move until it finally dawned on him what was happening. then it was clumsy. he tried to take over, but he had no idea what to do. he slipped in his tongue but it wasn’t much better, just an inexperienced mess of spit. you could have laughed at him but this was something that you just loved. you had to show him that he wasn’t in charge here. being the ‘boss’ didn’t mean he could help himself here, and as you crawled onto his lap, hand guiding the back of his neck exactly where you wanted, he started to submit to you.

once he began to get the hang of it, you released your grip on him, instead exploring his lanky body. this is what got those beautiful whimpers from his mouth. and when you brought your hand to his hard cock and squeezed through his pants, his small and high pitched whine nearly made you moan along.

“fuck, you’re so cute.” you bite his lip.

“‘m not cute.” he mumbled as you got off of his lap.

a giggle escaped your lips as you kneeled between his legs, your hands fumbling with his jeans.

“you are cute.” you stated, pulling his underwear down. “and if you say you’re not, then im gonna be using my mouth to argue instead of doing this.”

shigaraki shut up at that, and he lifted his hips to help you free his cock as it slapped against his stomach. you had to hold yourself back from just shoving the poor thing down your throat, you needed to draw this out for him. you wanted to have him crying and begging for you.

as much as it pained you, you started with kitten licks, focusing on the head of his dick as you popping it into your mouth. tomura rewarded your patience with his head thrown back and a choked groan coming out of his throat, his fingers tangled in your hair and tried to push your head down. you fought against him, getting another whine from him as you reminded him that you were the one in charge.

you started to train him. every noise he made had a little more of your mouth over his dick until your nose was pressed against his pubes and your hands were fondling his balls. if only you could look up and see his whimpering face all screwed up in pleasure, fingers grabbing at the sheets he sat on so as not to jeopardize your warm mouth around him. it didn’t seem like he knew that he had started bucking his hips into your throat, but you let it go, you had been with enough losers to know the signs of him coming undone. you decided to reward him by taking his hand and leading it to your head. sneaking a look up, you could see the complete nirvana on his face as he realized you were letting him fuck your throat. you knew this was gonna be good. from all those tissues, you knew that he was jacking off all those times he got red and ran away from you, so he had to know how to use a fleshlight and right now that was you.

he had you gagging and choking, spit running down your chin as you sucked him off. and you had him crying out in pleasure, going faster and faster until he was cumming down your throat. not even letting you spit out the salty liquid—not that you would, anyway, you wanted him to watch you swallow everything, so you did.

you watched his glazed over eyes zone in on your pretty mouth, chest heaving as you SWORE you saw a small tear trickle down his cheek.

now it was time for your fun.

you planned to make out some more, touch him to get him hard again before you let him in your pussy, but upon looking down, you noticed his cock still hard, red, and dripping. a sadistic smile took over as you looked up at his scared face, but he didn’t have to time say anything before you took off your shirt and jumped on him, making him taste his nasty cum as you stuck your tongue down his throat. you pulled his hair, bite his shoulders and tugged at his clothes. shigaraki tried to keep up with your feral groping, but all he could do was submit to your torture as he tried to take off your clothes, whining and whimpering at your assault on his body.

“just break them.” you commanded, and he dusted off both your clothes until you were both naked.

you pulled shigaraki on top of you. “now get inside me.”

his eyes widened. “what? but—what about a condom?”

you actually threw your head back and laughed at that. the thought that he really expected to get laid at some point and was prepared was hilarious. still though, you weren’t gonna let anything stand in the way of being the best sex he would ever had, you wanted him to cum inside you just like that filthy porn you know he had to have watched.

“funny, pretty boy, i think we both know you’d rather fuck me raw.” you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him towards you. “so get to it.”

tomura was clumsy. he grabbed the base of his hard cock and lined it up with your hole, it took him a second, probably taking a moment to appreciate the fact that he was finally going to feel pussy. after all those years of his fist and toys, watching those jacked guys fuck someone on his computer, and now it was his turn.

shigaraki almost collapsed on top of you as soon as he entered you. not only was it so much tighter and warmer than he ever thought, but he was still so overstimulated from your mouth that he was shaking.

still, when you told him to fuck you, he couldn’t help but slam into you over and over again, chasing the thought of cumming in you raw.

his eyes fell down to your tits, bouncing with the motion of his hips and turning his brain into mush.

“you like this, baby?” you moaned and his attention drew to your face. shigaraki couldn’t form words, only sounds of pleasure mixed with some ‘please’s as he felt his orgasm building up again. watching the bliss on your sadistic face was everything he could ever want and more, and as much as he wanted to keep going forever, he was breaking down. his hips stuttered and all he could think about was the fact that he was filling your pussy with HIS cum. he cried out your name, his head thrown back and his vision going white.

then he fell on top of you. covered in a thin layer of sweat as he lay on your chest, he was prepared for you to push him off and leave him now that you got what you want. he didn’t like that that thought made him upset. he wanted more.

“are you gonna leave now?” he whispered, barely audible in the hopes that you wouldn’t hear it.

tomura felt your chest vibrate with a soft laugh. he looked up at you.

“you think i’m gonna leave without you making me cum on your fingers?”

[ylangelegy]

fight my way ♾️ minghao x reader.

“would you call me a saint or a sinner? would you love me, a loser or a winner?” # day five of (the)8 days of minghao.

aspiring olympian!minghao is five years old when he starts practicing wushu. his parents coo at him, calling him an adorable little thing, as he stumbles over his stubby legs in an attempt to pull off the bow stance. in this universe, it is not dance that sets his body aflame; it is the lead foot pointed straight ahead, the squat on one leg before he lunges.

aspiring olympian!minghao shows potential. enough potential for his coaches to pull aside his mother and father, to tell them, your son is good. he can be good. his parents share a look because they do not know yet what it means, to have a miracle on their hands. what to do with that when it comes their way.

aspiring olympian!minghao is seven years old when he begins to train more regularly. he's nearing the age where he can compete in the children's martial arts competitions. he has parents who believe in him and a coach in his corner. he cannot lose, he thinks, for more reasons than one.

aspiring olympian!minghao is eight years old when he experiences a plethora of firsts. it's the year of his first real wushu competition, where he clinches second place with a score of 9.19. five points shy of gold. but the silver medal pales in comparison to the more important first— the first time he meets you.

aspiring olympian!minghao who watches wide-eyed from the bleachers as you compete in a different category. he is mesmerized as you glide across the mat with your bo staff, every single one of your movements perfectly controlled. your footwork is immaculate. your demeanor is unflappable. minghao nearly boos when you don't get a score high enough to finish on the podium.

aspiring olympian!minghao finds you afterwards. his coaches will tell you that he's more quiet and restrained than the rest of his peers, but there's none of that now as he shoulders past athletes and trainers to seek you out. when he does, he's slightly out of breath and his eyes are a little wild. his first words are blurted without much preamble. "we have to be friends," he'll insist, and you are helpless to deny him.

aspiring olympian!minghao, your confidante, your rival, your friend. throughout your childhood, the two of you share that world. the life of competitive martial arts. of training sessions after school, of watching and rewatching tournaments in a constant bid to compare and improve.

aspiring olympian!minghao becomes a constant presence of yours at these local events. the two of you cheer each other on when you aren't on the same mat. you sit by the bleachers and talk shit about everyone else because the two of you are young and arrogant. when you run out of other people to talk about, there's your lives outside of wushu to discuss. minghao's gripe with his teachers. your yearning for the newest cellphone. whenever you two part ways, it is with the promise to see each other again next time.

aspiring olympian!minghao is thirteen years old when you just... disappear. he thinks it's a one-off, one of those competitions where you've opted to prioritize school instead of sport. but then you're not at the next one. or the next one. he's thrown off his game; he doesn't even finish podium at a certain point. his parents are concerned. his coaches, baffled. he doesn't know how to explain himself.

aspiring olympian!minghao decides to do what he does best. he looks for you. he hunts you down, asks around, until he's at your front door with a look of utter frustration on his sharp features. "what gives?" he asks in lieu of 'hello'. there's no point in playing it cool. he's upset. he's hurt. he misses you. "where the hell did you go?" he demands, because it's easier to be angry than it is to be sad.

aspiring olympian!minghao is speechless when you tell him you've quit. quit. the word doesn't make sense to him. he's been in this game for nearly a decade now. you had done it for just as long. and now you were just— giving it up? "but you're so good," he stammers, his hands quivering around the glass of water you've poured him. "you can't quit!"

aspiring olympian!minghao is scandalized, sure, but you realize very quickly that his distress has less to do about the sport and everything to do about something else. and so you apologize for leaving without warning. you explain the reasons why you're doing it. and then. and then, you reassure him. you assuage his worries. "just because i'm quitting wushu," you say, an edge of tentative hope in your tone. "it doesn't mean we have to quit being friends."

aspiring olympian!minghao decides he'll take that. he thinks it's still a mighty shame, a waste of someone who could have had it all. it's your life, he convinces himself, and if your life isn't this sport, then he can't blame you. he grieves the loss of what you once shared, but he'd rather be your friend than not have you at all.

aspiring olympian!minghao picks up the slack. he wins gold in his next competition. then the next one. then the next. his coaches smirk amongst themselves. his parents once again share amused looks. the reason for his drive is back in the stands, scrutinizing his every move like they're one of his trainers themselves.

aspiring olympian!minghao still talks to you about all the other people he's competing against, about the rigorous routines and the classes he enjoys. you trade him stories of the life you're building away from these gymnasiums. sometimes, he feels a tinge of jealousy. he wants in. he wants to be part of your stories, too; wants to be more than just a guy you come to watch every couple of months.

aspiring olympian!minghao is sixteen years old when he announces that he wants to compete in the olympics. go big or go home, he says, with that smirk of his that borderlines on cocky. except that grin is wiped out when his coaches inform him that wushu isn't an olympic sport. it is in the southeast asian games, they tell him, but a part of minghao knows that isn't enough.

aspiring olympian!minghao asks, "okay, so what martial art is in the olympics?" his coaches hesitate but they answer him anyway. there's judo and taekwondo. minghao weighs the options for a long moment before decisively saying, "i'm going to start training for taekwondo."

aspiring olympian!minghao is unfazed as you cuss him out, as you rain punches down his back. "are you insane?" you're screeching, your eyes flashing with indignation. "what are you thinking, just switching up like that?" in his head, his explanation is bulletproof. wushu and takewondo are sister combat sports, with similar forms and acrobatic movements. he feels very much like that girl in that one american movie you made him watch, the one where the blonde said what, like it's hard?

aspiring olympian!minghao is a little exasperated when you get so annoyed that you freeze him out. he's called a lovesick fool and a door mat as he chases after you, but he's been on the receiving end of those assumptions for the better half of his teenage years. they no longer have any effect on him. in the end, he manages to convince you that it's just something he wants to try. he'll just try, he tells you, and he'll go back to wushu if it doesn't work out.

except aspiring olympian!minghao has never done anything half-heartedly. he spends the next four years training his body to get used to the forms, kicks, and punches of taekwondo. he practices new sparring techniques. he leverages his agility and flexibility; he fails more than he has in his entire sports career, but he pushes on.

aspiring olympian!minghao finds solace in your friendship. you're there when you can be, with your diet-friendly snacks and heat packs and sanrio band-aids. you still seem skeptical about his transition, about his relentless drive to be an olympian, but your hesitant support still means the world to him. he laps it all up and holds it all to his chest as he vies for qualifiers.

aspiring olympian!minghao doesn't qualify in the first year he tries. you think that's it, he's done; he'll go back to wushu. but he's twenty years old and raring to go. he got this far, didn't he? that's what he tells you as he gets back in to his dobok, as he negotiates to be put in a different weight class. "there will be more olympics," he tells you, that self-assuring grin still very much in place. "i'll be at the next one."

aspiring olympian!minghao clinches gold at a national taekwondo competition. not enough, he thinks, so he goes on to smash records at the world taekwondo championship. his pathway for qualification is paved. he fields all his bets in the -58kg weight class. he is twenty four years old. he makes it. you are one of the first people to find out.

olympian!minghao trains, and trains, and trains. for months, he is just a rotation of ailments. sore thighs, busted lips, bruised knuckles. he feels alive, though. he is bruised and battered, but he is also heading to paris for the goddamn olympics. he can deal with the scrapes and the aches.

olympian!minghao gets a little more clingy with you in the weeks leading up to his scheduled departure. he plans dinners and blocks off weekends. he pouts when you miss some of his exhibitions. he steals away from training to pick you up from work. you try to reason that this is a manifestation of his nerves; how he is seeking out one of his oldest friends for support.

but olympian!minghao isn't doing this solely because you're his pillar when it comes to sports. you realize this, one evening, when you tease him about finding some nice olympian to date while he's in the city of love and he looks at you like you're crazy. "why would you say that?" he asks. "i'm courting you, aren't i?" (he may have forgotten to inform you, he realizes. oh, well. at least now you know.)

olympian!minghao doesn't play around with courtship. he strives to balance it with his rigorous training schedule even as you insist that he should focus on practice, that this is a discussion the two of you can have once he's back from paris. he only shakes his head and asks what you want for lunch. in his head, he has already waited long enough.

olympian!minghao begs you to hold back on your answer, though, until he comes home. the night before his flight, he tells you why. "it will motivate me," he admits quietly. "i want you to be with a winner." you attempt to protest, to tell him that it doesn't matter, but he asks you to indulge him. "let me have this. it's stupid, i know— but it keeps the fire burning."

olympian!minghao is stunned when you give him a parting gift. at first, he's confused by the neon orange plastic ring hanging from the silver chain until you shyly tell him where it came from. it's from the wushu competition where you were both eight years old. where he'd zeroed in on you and decided, that is somebody i need in my life. you'd been wearing it during your exhibition. he takes it from you, now, like it's made of gold.

olympian!minghao heads to the olympics. he is called a rising star in his weight class. he gains a small cult following for his looks and his skill. his parents laugh; his coaches shake their heads. the modicum of social media fame and the adoring fangirls have nothing on who is waiting for minghao. who he is waiting for, in turn.

olympian!minghao makes that abundantly clear as early as his first round. you are watching back home when the cameras focus on him. the announcers read it aloud— his accolades, his background— but you are distracted by what he chooses to do, instead, with his few minutes of screen time.

olympian!minghao catches the camera and gives the smallest of smiles. he tugs at his dobok until he's pulling out the chain around his neck. then, like the fool that he'll always be for you— he presses the plastic ring to his lips. after all: he has never done anything half-heartedly, and that includes loving you.

[goodlucktai]

here for a reason

rottmnt word count: 1k pairing: raph & OC part of the archer au :) read on ao3

x

“Hey, Georgie,” Raph says, “got a second?”

Gio pauses agreeably on his way through the room. He tilts his head, as good as asking the obvious question out loud. 

Smiling, Raph pats the seat next to his. His big brother course-corrects immediately and joins him on the sofa. 

He’s so quiet so much of the time, unlike all the other noisy larger-than-life personalities in their family, but Raph knows he feels twice as much as he lets on. There’s enough light in the room that it brings out a hint of the warm brown hiding in those dark eyes. 

“I wanted to show you the latest dorky scheme Lee and Dee came up with,” Raph says, so casual. He definitely does not have an ulterior motive. 

“I’ll brace myself,” Gio says dryly, as if he’s not charmed by every ridiculous thing the twins do. 

Gio seems fine, but Raph knows he didn’t imagine the flinch he saw earlier in the evening. Following the police scanner on patrol had taken them right to the Foot Clan, up to no good as usual, because some losers just don’t learn. When a well-aimed crossbow bolt missed the tip of his ear by an inch for the grave crime of daring to so much as scowl in Donnie’s direction, the Lieutenant had thrown his arms up like he regretted his whole career and shouted at Gio, “What do you care, anyway? You’re not even one of them!”

Three little brothers gasped in tandem, offended and shocked, but Raphael had only seen the way Gio’s fist clenched white around his bow briefly before it loosened into a normal grip again. 

He’s still getting used to it, Raph thinks. Belonging somewhere. Being one equal part of a silly, perfect whole. 

So Raph tugs on the soft gray string inside him, twisted in snug with orange and purple and blue, and melds with it just enough to send along a memory. 

The memory was one of a very late night Raph had gotten out of bed for water and discovered two turtles in the kitchen making break and bake chocolate chip cookies and cupcakes from a box of funfetti cake mix. Leo was sitting on the counter, swinging his feet and eating a square of raw cookie dough, and Gio was wearing an apron of Mikey’s that said “I Cook As Good As I Look.”

“We couldn’t sleep,” Gio said plainly, his voice rarely wavering from its usual flatness. He would sound calm at the end of the world, Raph sometimes thought. Only to remember an instant later, oh, wait, he did sound calm at the end of the world. 

“‘We’, huh?” Raph said, leaning against the counter next to Leo. “You’re a bad influence, Leon.”

“Nothing and no one can influence Gigi,” Leo replied. “He’s officially de-influenced. Ask him what TikTok is.” 

Well-versed in the art of Leo trying to dodge a conversation, Raph ignored that and said, “If Mikey finds out you were up all night again, it’s gonna be hell on earth for you tomorrow.”

“Can I buy your silence?” Leo offered cheekily. He offered Raph a cookie dough square, smiling as if it wasn’t three o’clock in the morning and there weren’t shadows beneath his eyes. 

Raph took the cookie dough and said “No,” as he ate it, just to hear Leo’s offended squawk. 

Gio sent Leo off to look for more frosting in the pantry, presumably to stop their scuffling from reaching wake-everyone-else-in-the-lair levels. When it was just the two eldest brothers for a moment, Raph said, “You don’t have to do this.” 

He didn’t want Giorgio to think he had to do anything to belong there. He didn’t have to stay up baking treats for no other reason than to make a sleepless night a little more bearable. It was kind of him to do it, but he didn’t have to. Raph just wanted to make sure he knew that. 

Gio took the first two trays of cookies out of the oven, transferring them to a cooling rack the way he’d seen Mikey do a dozen times, and said, “I’m the oldest. It’s my job.”

And it was hard to argue something that had been Raph’s truth for so long. He stayed where he was, absorbing the warmth of the kitchen, reluctant to leave it. 

Leo came back at a run with a tub of cream cheese frosting, hoisting himself back onto the counter and popping the lid off the tub. Raph drew the line at eating frosting straight out of the container and swiped it from him. 

“All of your teeth will rot out of your head, and then what,” Raph said dryly. 

“Donnie will make me robot teeth or something? They’ll probably be Bluetooth enabled so I could play TSwift literally everywhere I go.”

“You already do that.” 

Gio reached over and deposited a warm cookie from the rack into one of Leo’s hands. Confiscated frosting forgotten, Leo broke it into two pieces and popped one half into his mouth, exhaling comically when it was hotter than he expected. 

“You’re gonna spoil him,” Raph said. It was already much too late for that, as Leo had been spoiled in various ways by everyone in their family since the day he was born, but it was worth saying anyway. 

“That’s my job, too,” Gio said, and handed the next cookie to Raph. 

In an instant, Raph felt younger-brother and cared for, indulged the way only little turtles were. It was a silly, small thing—a passing moment on a random Tuesday morning that would be folded into the rest of the week and all but forgotten in time—but Raph would remember this part. Looking at Gio and thinking I love you. I’m glad you’re here. 

Gio goes still as he processes the information. The Hamato ninpo feels brand-new to him at this point, for all that it had been sleeping deep down inside his soul this whole time, and they have to remember that he hasn’t had years to get accustomed to foreign thoughts and emotions crowding into his head at any random minute of the day like the rest of them have had. 

“All good?” Raph says carefully. 

His big brother blinks rapidly, a glassiness in his eyes that might have been a trick of the light but might not have been, and dips his chin in a punchy nod. 

Something about the memory has unmoored him, but Raph can’t think of what. He passed it along slowly, and chose one he thought would be easy to absorb, but maybe they’ll have to go even slower and easier still. 

“I can tell them not to,” Raph starts to say, but Gio shakes his head. 

“It’s fine,” he says. Then, very deliberately, “Thank you.” 

Raph should be the one saying that, he thinks ruefully. He’d said it already, of course—they all had—but there weren’t enough thank yous in the world for this brother who appeared out of thin air specifically to bring Leonardo home from a place it was impossible to come home from. Whose caring didn’t stop or stall outside of life-or-death situations, any sleepless night as significant to him as the actual apocalypse. Who didn’t seem to know what to do with their gratitude when he had it, putting it up on a shelf somewhere to take it down and roll it around in his hands every now and then. 

One day they’d be able to show him. One day it would stick. Until then—

Operation AirDrop is a go, Raph sends in his little brothers’ various directions. He instantly gets three responses, an ecstatic fizzy pop of confetti that is trademark Michelangelo and electric chaotic glee from the twins. Gio’s expression shifts into one of curiosity as he tries to parse through that sudden burst of feedback he must have felt from the periphery. 

Raph smiles and drapes an arm around Gio’s shoulders. In part to hold him down if he tries to flee their little siblings’ enthusiastic arrival, but mostly because he’s got almost two decades of hugs to catch up on and every second counts. 

Sometimes Gio looks sidelong at him, like he’s surprised to find Raph beside him at all. Other times he leans against him, like he’s soaking up the sun after years and years of winter. Today’s a sunny day, it seems, because he presses the side of his face against Raph’s shoulder and that quiet gray string in Raph’s heart thrums with something very hopeful and tentative that he’s afraid to pin down with a name, just in case it startles away. 

[shiftingwithmars]

Favorite fangirl-Mattheo Riddle one shot

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A/N:Thought this was cute<3. Written in both Mattheo and the readers POV. (I might make this into a series, idk yet…)

Summary:When his band’s tour finally ends, Mattheo is overjoyed to finally go back home and see his favorite fangirl.

Warnings:Band Au, Modern Au, Swearing, fluff, wholesome and cute, a few uses of Y/n, She/Her pronouns used for reader, established relationship, lmk what I missed

Song listened to while writing:Cupids Chokehold/Breakfast in America-Gym Class Heroes

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Emeralds finished their show, a smile plastered on their faces as they headed off stage. “Okay, now that was probably our best show yet!” Theo said with a laugh as he plopped down on the sofa. “I know right! All the roses thrown up on stage! Bloody hell, I swear they were all over me.” Enzo said with a teasing laugh. “Sorry Enzo, they were all for me. I can’t help it, girls just love me!” Pansy giggled, earning her a playful shove from Theo.

“Nah, I think they were all for Mattheo.” Theo said with a small smirk. “I swear, most of the girls were focused on him.” Theo playfully nudged Mattheo, and he just rolled his eyes. “They can like me all they want, but I’ve already got a favorite fangirl.” Mattheo said with a small smile. “Ooh, someone thinking about her again?” Pansy said teasingly. Mattheo was about to reply, but Enzo interrupted. “Of course he is. It’s all he ever talks about anymore.” Enzo shot Mattheo a teasing glance, and Mattheo just shrugged the taunt off. “Well, I’m exhausted. Peace out losers.” Mattheo said with a yawn, getting up and heading towards his room.

Mattheo let out a sigh as he sat at his desk, checking his phone for what must’ve been the 15th time in 30 minutes. No calls, no texts, nothing. Mattheo stared at his phone, a small smile forming on his face as he stared at his Lockscreen. It was a picture of you wearing his band jacket, which was probably around two sizes too big on you. He could stare at that picture for hours. He remembered it like it was yesterday.

You two were at one of Theodore’s after-tour parties, drinks being passed around and music blasting from speakers. You were cuddled up in Mattheo’s lap on the couch, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

Eventually you got up to get a drink, placing a soft kiss on Mattheo’s head before walking off. When you came back you couldn’t find Mattheo anywhere, and for a second you worried that he had left without you. That was until Theodore informed you he was on the roof. Of course he had gone there, of all places, to get away from the crowd. You climbed up the roof, sitting beside Mattheo with a smile on your face. You shivered under the cold, and Mattheo wasted no time in wrapping his Emeralds jacket around you. “It looks good on you. You almost look like a part of the band.” Mattheo said with a smile. You rolled your eyes, smiling as you curled up on his lap.

Mattheo smiled at the memory, glancing down at that very jacket which he was wearing right now. He swore it still smelled like you. “Dude, you coming or not?” Theodore questioned as he stuck his head in Mattheo’s room, suitcase in hand. “Yeah yeah, I’m coming.” Mattheo replied with a roll of his eyes. He was the first one on the tour bus, extremely excited to finally go home.

His phone dinged, and he glanced down hope. It was you. “I miss you.” Three simple words, but they were enough to make his heart race. “I miss you too. You going to bed yet?” He replied, knowing that it was getting late back home. “Yeah. Goodnight, I love you.” Mattheo smiled as those words appeared on the screen. “I love you too, baby.” He texted back before putting his phone on silent. He might as well get some sleep now.

One tour bus, one flight, and a ride from Theodore brought him to where he was standing now, in front of your door. It was funny, he never thought he’d be so nervous to walk into his own home. He almost considering knocking for a second, but he figured that would be stupid. Plus, you were probably already asleep.

He quietly walked through the door, setting his bags on the floor next to the kitchen island. He smiled as a familiar, furry shape began to rub against his legs. “Hey Zoe.” He said softly, leaning down to give the cat a soft scratch on the head. He pulled out the special package from his bag before heading up to your bedroom.

He gently pushed open the door, quiet as not to wake you. When he saw your sleeping figure, he let out a breath he didn’t even know he had been holding. He set the package down your desk before going over to you. He slowly slipped into bed, letting out a soft sigh as he wrapped his arms around you. He buried his face in your neck, his heart pounding in his chest at the contact.

You slowly stirred, rolling over to face Mattheo. “Matty?” You questioned groggily, squinting as your eyes adjusted to your surroundings. “Sorry love, didn’t mean to wake you up.” Mattheo said softly, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “How long have you been here?” You questioned, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “Just got here.” He explained softly, smiling as you buried your face in his chest. “I missed you.” You said softly, hugging him tighter. “I know baby. I missed you too.” Mattheo replied, smiling at your still half-asleep state. “I have a surprise for you.” Mattheo said softly as he got up, handing you a package. You opened it gently, careful not to tear the wrapping paper too much.

Inside was a jacket. It was like Mattheo’s band jacket, except smaller. It had some of the same patches, but there were also a bunch of places where patches had yet to be sewn on. The patches were kind of a good luck symbol for the band, and they got one every time they went on tour. You studied the patches, recognizing that they were all from tours you had gone to.

You got up, slowly slipping the jacket on. Perfect fit. Then you noticed a patch that you hadn’t seen before. The letters were very clear, no way to mistake them; Mattheo’s girl. It was small enough to not be embarrassing, but big enough to get the message across. You smiled as you stared at yourself in the mirror, admiring the way it looked on you. You almost felt like a part of the band now.

“You like it?” Mattheo asked softly, smiling as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “Got it made ‘specially for you. Now you don’t have to steal mine.” Mattheo said with a small smile, and you rolled your eyes. “I love it. And for the record, I’m still gonna steal yours.” You said teasingly, smiling as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. Mattheo rested his head on your shoulder, admiring you in the mirror. “A jacket for my favorite fangirl.” Mattheo said with a smile, feeling his heart swell with love. He was yours, and you were his. Just how he liked it.

(Edit:Shh, let’s ignore the mistakes I fixed…)

[82mitsu]

{18Trip} The Homescreen Voice Lines Vault

Collection of all the voice lines I have translated on my Twitter account. Uploading it on here for archival purposes.

Note: A lot of them were made to fit the Twitter character limit, sometimes they're a bit freestyled.

Mostly Raito oriented, with some others thrown in the mix.

Chihiro: Raiting, you spend a lot of time watching vids, don'tcha~ What channels got you hooked?

Raito: Let me see, channels all about information over ramen and the occult stuff like Muu☆Tan's are vital to me.

Raito: Kuguri, you can do what you want but, have you considered to stop sleeping naked from time to time? No doubt you'll catch a cold.

Kuguri: I'd prefer for you to leave me be. A certain Someone who can't properly wake up in the morning has no right to police others on how they sleep.

Raito: According to this scripture of taboos that I procured on my own, it appears that Pandora's Box will open up again soon. The theory of hope remaining at the bottom is plausible but, let's just wait and see...

Akuta: Uugh... I can't... I can't go on like this anymore.... Raito-san, please do the usual thing again tonight!!

Raito: A hopeless guy, aren't you... Got it, I'll take care of you. I will... feed you the best late night ramen that there is.

Netaro: Raito~! Trouble's afoot! There's hearsay of a unfamiliar flickering luminant body appearing behind the dormitory~!

Raito: What!? An unidentified flying object, in other words!? We must unravel its true identity! Let's go right away, Netaro!

Kuguri: Sometimes Nanaki looks at me cutely and pleads for advice on composing music. Well, my involvement is limited to hearing him out and giving a nudge, however.

Kuguri: I don't disagree with your way of living, Ten... It smells sweet, exclusively so. How about we go on a drive together again sometime.

Ten: Aha, it's an honor to get invited by someone like Kuguri-san~ I don't mind the kinda relations where you stay outta each others affairs either.

Chihiro: Geez~! Taotao, you play Anigun way too much! Didn't you like promise you'd go shopping with Chii today! And here I sat looking forward to it~!

Tao: Sorry. To think there'd be an event out of nowhere... I'll buy you some pudding as apology. So let's go shopping. Okay?

Akuta: Like, during flower viewing... adults do /that/, right... Y'know... the thing... s- s- s- strip rock paper scissors....!

"yakyuuken" is a Japanese game on based rock paper scissors, where the loser ends up stripping.

Akuta: Ten-san, I heard you talking to a woman on the phone earlier, but is she for real... wrapped around your finger!? Like both hands all over a beaut and...!

Ten: Aha, the hell man. Don't slander me. She's just a plain ol' friend. Maybe you're still too young for this though~?

Akuta: That freakin' Kiroku, he put a kinda bracelet that girls would wear in his desk. Ah, wonder if he's like also doing the do with her...

Ushio: Oi Stupidtake, record what I make all you want but don't snatch food while i'm not looking. You itching to get banned or something?

Akuta: Geh... got caught, huh... I regret my actions! Please spare me from being exiled! Oh great god from heavens above Ushio-samaaa~!

Nanaki: Kugunii, come over whenever you feel like it again. I'm sure Dad, Mom and Big Bro all are eager to see you.

Kuguri: Perhaps so. ...I'll go if the mood strikes me.

Nanaki: Spring is the season of encounters, huh... I already have crossed paths with my G.O.A.T though.

GOAT: Gen Z slang, means "Greatest Of All Time".

Ushio: Listen Murakumo-san, I know you're fooling around, but can you please refrain from putting any weird ideas into the younger guys' heads?

Ten: Oh-hoh~ look at you sounding all cool there. Dunno what you mean with "weird ideas" though.

Ushio: ....I curse the freaking guy who dared to use my shampoo without permission to go bald from losing 10 hairs every second...!

Ryui: Toi, your hair's sticking out. Here, sit still. I'll fix it to make it pretty.

Toi: Wah... Thank you dearest Big Bro. My beloved Big Bro really is the coolest in the whole wide world... My heart's skipping a beat...

Toi: A mature seductiveness like Yodaka-san's... How can i end up having that too? I'm jealous, you see.

Yodaka: Fufu, but Toi. Don't you have your own kind of charm that I lack. I admit I'm also envious on that front.