#yeah I'm reaching through all the fandoms
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nipotazzi · 23 hours ago
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Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow. - Chapter 1
"C’mon, Lusk! It's just a little jump!”
“We’ll be here to grab you in case something goes wrong, sweetie!”
The little child looked all the way up there: his mothers were just ahead, he only needed to make a smooth super jump to reach them. He tries to calculate the distance and necessary strength for it, but for some reason, the results are utterly inconclusive.
“No silly math! You just have to do it!”
Silly? Math isn't silly. Still, maybe momma Pearl was right: he just had to try it, if he wanted to succeed.
Lusk takes a deep breath, one of the first behavioral lessons given him by the creator to ease himself to calm… and begins to run, faster and faster with each consecutive step! 
Halfway through, he quickly changes into his very small swim form, then charges the tentacles like a spring… and jumps!
He makes sure to not use his floating abilities in this form to cheat, and while taking this precaution Lusk realizes that he's already far, far high in the air: He's so much faster than gravity! He can do it! He can reach them!! 
He's… slowing down.
He can't do it.
That shouldn’t have happened. It wouldn’t have happened if…
No. Take a deep breath.
Smollusk knows that they will just say something along the lines of “better than nothing at all,” and that he’ll “get better at it in no time, you just need to try it more.” 
Disheartened, but resigned to such a result, like always, he begins to float towards them in order to avoid the fall.
But something tugs his tentacles.
He looks down, and sees a chain, as long as his sight can go, attached to his body. 
Lusk immediately tries to slip away from it, but nothing happens. His small size cannot handle the sudden extreme weight brought upon it. He searches upwards, starting to grow scared, but the only thing that exchanges his pleading eyes… are the disappointed and clearly annoyed looks on the faces of his mothers.
“C-creator! CREATOR!! HELP ME!”
“...why?”
“W-what?”
“Yeah, why should we?”
Lusk freezes, terrified of the cold tone of her creator.
“Look, Marina! Little kid can't even make a jump this easy. I'm soooo embarrassed to think that we’ve been taking care of such a monstrous failure.”
“Oh, Pearlie, no need to be so rude. We all know that this… mistake… is just one delusion after the other.”
“N-no! No!! I'm not a mistake! I-I’ll be better, I promise! Please!!”
“Are you crying now? Tsk-tsk… how pathetic. Let's go, Rina, don't even look at it.”
“Make way… I don’t want to stay a millisecond longer than I need to.”
“NO! WAIT! WAAIIIITTT!!!”
Lusk falls down, the chain trapping him tighter. It's a bottomless fall, where his screams could echo for eternity. There is nothing else, but the weight of his failures, bringing him down.
Rating:
Not Rated
Archive Warning:
No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories:
F/F
Gen
Fandom:
Splatoon (Video Games)
Relationship:
Marina/Pearl (Splatoon)
Characters:
Agent 8 (Splatoon)
Dedf1sh | Acht (Splatoon)
Pearl (Splatoon)
Marina (Splatoon)
Order | Smollusk (Splatoon)
The Heavenly Melody (Splatoon)
Additional Tags:
Christ(squid)mas special
half wholesome half angst with a good ending
self trauma due to personal delusions
Angst with a Happy Ending
Family Feels
Family Bonding
Family Drama
Family Dynamics
first time moms
Post-Splatoon 3: Side Order
Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Language: English
Summary: Pearl and Marina are always trying to be the best moms a kid could ever wish for, and if there is something that they really don't want to mess up… is their Lusk's first experience of the most wonderful time of the year! But will the family be able to help him work trough his own fears at the strongest that they have ever been?
Happy New Year everyone! As always, comments, reblogs, and feedback are appreciated. Have a good day!
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eudikot · 3 months ago
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I'm curious because I've noticed that I always tend for side/smaller characters as my #1 favs compared to the main characters. I've seen many people who also fall in love with that character who you see in the background of that one scene (you know who you are).
This is subjective to how you view the positions of the characters but if you want here's my loose definition of each:
Main: Story centered around them, majority of screen time and development. Majority of merch features them, typically has majority of fanworks. Also can includes main antagonist(s), even if screen time is more limited.
Side: Typically seen with the main character, but not the central part of the story. Can support/hinder the main character through story progression. Usually seen in merch if it extends past the main character(s). Usually good fanwork following.
Background: Medium-low screen time and story importance. Might show up for a small part of an arc, or small periods throughout the whole show. Usually low chance to see in merch, but still may have a select few and lower fanwork following.
One scene: Self explanatory. Can include characters that don't appear enough to be a background character.
Other: Characters that are only mentioned, speculated, etc. Maybe your favorite is the author notes at the end.
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thevioletcaptain · 2 years ago
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pov! you're me, considering signing up as a participant in a new challenge, but as you're reading the rules and requirements you notice that they've straight up pasted in several sections of copy you wrote for a challenge you founded and have been running for the past seven years (and they didn't ask permission or provide credit!!!)
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#hoooo boy this pisses me off lmao#at first i was like... am i imagining this?#but i made a point of going through it#and there's several sections where they've flat out just thesaurus'd in a new word and switched ''pinefest'' to their challenge name#and to be clear if people want to use rules from pinefest *as a template* for their own challenge rules that's totally fine by me#like i've spent seven years ironing out the kinks and it runs pretty smoothly these days#so i'm more than happy for other challenges to take inspiration from how we run things#but to lift entire sections of the rules/requirements/posting guide i wrote#only changing a couple of words and shuffling the order of a few things around but keeping large chunks of text and formatting#all without bothering to provide credit or even just ask!!!#is so damn rude!!!!!!#like for crying out loud the pinefest askbox is open my askbox is open the pinefest email is listed on our page#i've shared ''how to build your own challenge'' guides here and on twitter through the challenge account#and have publicly offered help and advice on getting started when people have asked#like i've made a point of being extremely approachable wrt this stuff!!!#because i want to help people set up challenges! having well-run challenges makes fandom better!!!#but passing off other people's hard work as your own does NOT make fandom better!!!!#and yeah writing copy for a challenge IS hard work#also i have deliberately not mentioned the name of the challenge publicly and i'm only going to mention it to my co-mod#though if the people running it see this and feel like reaching out they are welcome to do so#like legit no hard feelings if they were using our rules as a guide and somehow published our stuff in their rules by mistake#i'm just super heated about this because i've put so much work into pinefest over the years#like huge amounts of time and energy and thought dedicated to contributing to the fandom#so to have someone take a bunch of that work and pass it off as their own feels pretty damn shitty!#it's especially frustrating because other parts of their rules have clearly been written by someone who has a distinct voice of their own#like evidently they're capable of writing their own stuff so why didn't they just do the rest of the work?#wank adjacent#...but is it really wank when it's being pissed off for legitimate reasons? who's to say
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fushiglow · 10 months ago
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Hi! I would just like to say that I love your writing and the stories that you've chosen to tell (specifically over the threshold but that SW AU too, even just from that lil snippet) the way you write is so immersive to me? I don't know how you do it and I admire you immensely for it. Everything is crafted so brilliantly, the setting, the characterization, the dialogue. There's no stutter or awkwardness in the way everything flows that takes you out of the moment.
I just really wanted to tell you that, and I look forward to reading anything you write in the future!
Hopefully that didn't come off too awkwardly, I'm very out of practice trying to make new friends. If you're interested in chatting more or even if you just need a beta reader, feel free to drop me a line! 😁
Don't think I haven't noticed that you're always there cheering me on, I'm incredibly grateful! Honestly, it's been on my mental to-do list to reach out to you, but things have been a little wild online and offline recently so I never got round to it — I'm sorry ♥️
Thank you so much for your lovely compliments, I'm blushing! I also really appreciate you dropping into my inbox to say hello, I've followed you back and I'd love to chat more — your ask got me thinking about this though!
In truth, although I feel like SUCH a dick saying this, it's been getting harder and harder to stay on top of online interactions. It used to be a little easier to build two-way relationships on here, but as my notifications get busier, I worry that I don't show enough gratitude to the people who consistently have my back. It's actually a fairly big source of anxiety for me, so I try not to let myself spiral into unhelpful thinking about it most of the time because otherwise I become paralysed by it!
For that reason, people are ALWAYS welcome to strike up a conversation with me! This is an open invitation to anyone reading to slide into my DMs or my ask box any time they want to say hello, there's absolutely no need to feel shy! I am an autistic disaster in any and all social situations, so I'm definitely not going to judge because I know how intimidating this stuff can get.
Sorry for using your ask to go off about all of that, but it seemed like a good opportunity to address it! ♥️
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the-secret-formulaone · 3 months ago
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prompt: you and max have been secretly together for years. neither the fans or the media have a clue. what happens when you and max are neck and neck for the drivers championship and you get the unexpected news that you’re pregnant?
pairing: max verstappen x ferrari! reader
word count: ~7.6k
warnings: 18+, cursing, mentions of sex but no real smut, mentions of miscarriage, some mention of blood
a/n: hello, i'm brand new at writing fanfic for f1. i've had this idea for a while and it was eating at me so i hope you enjoy. i thought it would be cool to have it be like a normal fic with a bit of that social!au content that the fandom loves.
this is pt.1 of how everything is going down and then the next and final part will be what happens after, her pregnancy and what reader does this time around. along with some fan social media mayhem.
id love to hear your thoughts!
enjoy!
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LAS VEGAS, USA | NOV 2024
The nausea settling in the pit of your stomach is unbearable, it gets worse with each lap you complete. You're confident you can push through and finish the race without throwing up in your helmet, until the track begins doubling and tripling.
You haven’t felt this dizzy since you crashed in Spa three years ago due to rain. There were no stakes then as you were having a bad race weekend and started P7. Today you’re P1 and the gap between you and Max is getting shorter as you slow to try and compensate for the nausea and dizziness.
You hear your team in your ear, asking you if the car's giving you trouble since there’s no apparent reason for you to be slowing down at this point. Especially with ten laps to go.
“The car is fine,” you say through gritted teeth, trying to relax your abdomen to keep the nausea at bay.
“Then what’s the matter? Are you okay?” Riccardo, your race engineer, asks. His tone is stern yet concerned.
“Yeah, I’m perfectly fine. My head feels like it’s spinning is all.” You're nonchalant but deep inside you’re panicking. This race means so much to you and your team. Now is not the time to get sick.
“Can you finish the race?” His filtered voice asks through the radio.
“Yes, I’m finishing the bloody race,” you curse, pressing on the gas pedal and tightening the hold on the steering wheel.
“If you continue feeling this way, box immediately,” he orders, not wanting to risk the safety of his driver, “By the way Max is 2 seconds behind you.”
“Fucking hell.” After all the work to create a 10 second gap Max is catching up because your body decided to get sick.
There’s rage building inside of you, keeping Max away is the most difficult part of racing. It took pure skill to keep him at a distance, he’s only catching up because you’re slowing. You're letting yourself down.
It’s been a battle of pole positions and fastest laps for you two. The championship is within your reach, threatening to break Max’s two year streak. It's why Max is giving everything he has to get ahead of you. If he wins this race he’ll be on top once more.
Another bout of nausea takes over your body, shivers running down your spine. Why are you nauseous and dizzy? You were hydrated before the race, the temperature in the car is warm as always but it’s cool outside, unlike Singapore, and you felt perfectly fine earlier.
It’s most likely karma for teasing Max this morning and leaving him with a raging hard on.
You notice Max in your peripheral vision. He’s ready to attack and regain P1. You accelerate and block him as best you can but nearing the turn you miscalculate giving Max the perfect opportunity to pass you.
He settles right in front of you, mocking how he got ahead so easily. If you didn’t love him and felt the bile coming up your throat you would’ve cursed at him. You were famously known for insulting the men driving the other cars.
At this point, you weren’t driving straight and your race engineer, Riccardo was telling you to pit and pull out of the race.
“I promise you I’m good enough to finish the race,” you say after a moment to swallow the bile coming up. You'd rather die than DNF'ing with a handful of laps to go.
“Norris is catching up. Let’s finish this race quickly so you can get checked.”
You’re glad you created a gap at the beginning of the race, otherwise Lando and Charles, your teammate, would’ve caught up already.
You see Lando trying to overtake you but you surprisingly block him and go as fast as you can. It’s not your best work and the FIA will have something to say about it but you make do.
Finally, down the final straight you press on the gas and cross the finish line. You finish the race out of pure muscle memory since you can’t rely on your distorted vision. Ignoring the celebratory cheers, you pull up on the spot marked #2. No one says anything about the askew parking job.
Your hands are clumsy, pulling out the steering wheel and standing. One of your teammates is right there giving you the hand you clearly need as you sway and almost fall straight out of the car.
Max is none the wiser, calmly getting out the RB and running over to his team who congratulate and scream his name. In his head, you lost control of your car, giving him a way to pass you. That's how F1 works.
You pull on your helmet and all the straps fast, the Ferrari team member helping you when he sees your urgency. As soon as you pull off your balaclava you bend over and empty the contents of your stomach.
Privacy be damned.
It’s not pretty. You’ve been holding this in for 20 laps and it’s not going to stop any time soon. The cameras focus on you as you push away the Ferrari team and finish throwing up. Ready hands catch you and you’re sat on a wheel chair as they roll you over to the medics. You close your eyes and throw your head back, everything around you spinning.
The murmurs of the crowd and the media cause Max to notice. He catches sight of you being wheeled away into the back. He takes a tentative step towards you, itching to be by your side but remembers the agreement you made to keep your relationship a secret.
Sometimes he hates how stubborn you are. At this point, the world should know you two are together, married even. Yet he understands your hesitancy with how cruel the media and the fans can be.
Max stays rooted on the spot, watchful eyes and dozens of lenses noticing every movement. Lando gets close to Max trying to avoid the cameras.
“What happened?” Lando asks referring to you.
“No idea, mate,” Max says, staring intently at the door you were just rolled through. A sleuth of Ferrari members following.
“She wasn't driving straight,” Lando shakes his head. He knew something was off when he caught up to her. “It was so unpredictable it made it harder on me to battle it.”
Max didn’t think much when he pulled up behind you but he did think it was strange how easy it was to overtake you. You always give him the hardest time.
He remembers this morning when you were in bed kissing him, touching him, teasing him. You were so cheeky, his length in your hand as you sweet talked him. 'Convincing' him to throw the race. Not like he’d ever do it. You were simply having your fun with him.
There wasn’t any sign of sickness then. It’s not like you spun out during the race either. You had been flawless out on the track until you weren’t.
“I'm going to check on her,” Max tells Lando, motioning with his head and wondering what exactly is wrong with his wife.
"Just wait," Lando stops him with a hand on his chest. They notice Charles in the Ferrari garage, heading to the back where they have you. "If you go, it'll stir up rumors."
Max tenses his jaw and looks away. With a roll of his eyes he turns to get weighed. He doesn't like it but Lando is right. He doesn't give a damn about his reputation only yours and the promise he made you.
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f1_news tweeted: Ferrari’s Princess is transferred to hospital after race. It was heard through their radio she was having severe motion sickness, giving Max Verstappen the lead. Not many details are known as of this moment. More updates coming soon!
comments:
user2: hope she’s doing okay! she needs to come back to kick max's ass and take the championship from him 😮‍💨
user3: bet max is celebrating
-> user4: he looked very concerned when he saw her in the wheelchair
-> user14: who wouldn’t, she looked like death 💀
user4: did ya'll notice max disappear after the ceremony?
-> user5: lol he was making sure his favorite rival was okay 🤣
-> user101: no point in staying if he can’t rub it in her face 🤐
user6: our ferrari princess 👸 looked out of it. not sure how she made it out the car
user7: the podium felt so empty without her in it 😓
-> user8: did you notice max kept looking at the spot she was supposed to be as if expecting her to suddenly appear
-> user9: she’s like his best friend and his enemy wrapped in one. can’t live with her, can't live without her
-> user10: i swear he’s in love with her. 🗣️ it’s not normal the way he looks at her
-> user11: please, she’s married. you guys need to stop being delusional and stop shipping her with every guy on the grid
-> user10: not every guy, just max and maybe charles… -> user76: let's take a moment to appreciate charles immediately asking about her and leaving the track to see how she was. it's a win for us predestined x princess shippers
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In the hospital, they quickly take you into a private room. The nurses retake your vitals and give you a shot to help with the nausea. A doctor comes in relatively quickly, asking you an array of questions to help him figure out why you got sick.
"The nurse should be in quickly to draw blood. I'm not too worried about this being anything other than a virus but we just want to make sure you're all good before leaving."
"Thank you, doc," you respond, lying back on the bed. They've given you one of the flimsiest hospital gowns in existence but you've gotta admit it's more comfortable than your race suit.
It's awfully lonely in the hospital room but it gives you time to relax and wind down. Fred and Riccardo were extremely concerned for your well being- not related at all to the fact you're on the run to win the championship-forcing you to go into the hospital.
Their stressed energy, the ambulance ride and then the nurses fussing over you was overwhelming. It would've made your nausea worse had it not been for the shot.
You're snoozing off when the door opens and your husband walks in. Max has a backpack slung over his shoulder with a set of clothes for you, along with your phone and other personal belongings you left at the paddock. He hurries over to you, dropping the bag and wrapping his arms around you.
"I was so worried, schatje," Max says in your ear, kissing your temple. The softness of his hoodie and the familiar scent he carries is comforting.
"I'm okay. You should keep your distance though, doc says I have a virus," you tell him, slightly pushing him away.
He’s stubborn as he keeps hold of your hand. "I don't care if I get sick. We've got two weeks until the next race, plenty of time for me to get better." Max sits on the chair next to your bed, asking you what happened during today’s race and listening to every word you say.
"What did they do for podium?" You later ask curiously, turning on your side to get more comfortable. Max props his head on his hand as he leans on your bed, getting closer to you despite your protests.
"Riccardo was there to accept it," Max tells you, kissing the back of your hand. He had been really worried. A part of him kept checking his surroundings for any sign of you.
It’s days like today where he wishes your relationship wasn’t secret. Max wants to express how worried he was about his girlfriend wife. He wanted to say ‘fuck you’ to all protocol and go after you.
He understands your reluctance and the need for privacy in your personal life. He knows what it’s like to have his privacy invaded and Max agrees that good things have come out of keeping your relationship a secret but you’ve also had to miss out on others. One day, you’ll have to come clean to the public to be able to live your life to the fullest.
The doctor returns before he can vocalize this. He knocks on the door as he steps into the room, a tablet in his hands. “Results have come back. Would you like the gentleman to step out or is it okay if he stays?”
“He’s my husband,” you tell the doctor.
You're used to people not recognizing you outside of Formula One but Max is more known than you. You wait for the doctor to react at the sight of Max, except there’s not an ounce of recognition in his face. Good, or else, you’d have to rely on his patient-doctor confidentiality.
“Let’s get into it then. Lab’s show dehydration which is normal for the state you came in like. In addition, to the fact, you had just finished a physically demanding race. Surprisingly they also showed that your quantitative hCG levels are high meaning—"
“I’m pregnant?” You pan, shocked. Max's hand tightens around yours. Last year's endeavors left you with enough knowledge to know what that term means.
“Yes, you are pregnant,” he nods.
Max instantly turns towards you in complete shock. There’s part of him that’s happy but then there’s another that’s concerned. Personally, he’d love to have a child but it would mean you would have to sacrifice the championship.
You stare at the doctor with parted lips and furrowed brows, “That’s impossible. I have an IUD.” This couldn't be happening at a worse time.
“All methods of contraception have a percentage of failure,” the doctor sighs. “Your pregnancy explains today's sudden dizziness and nausea.”
“Do you know how far along she is?” Max asks, holding your hand tightly to show his support.
“We would need an ultrasound for that but based on her last menstrual period it can’t be more than 6 weeks.”
“Six weeks,” you breath out. You could only hear your pounding heart and the air coming in and out of your mouth. God, you've been training and driving the whole time. For fucks sake, just two weeks ago you had been celebrating your win with lots of alcohol.
You hardly hear the doctor excuse himself, leaving you and Max alone. Tears brim your eyes at the cruelty of the universe. You have in your hands the two things you want most in life. A shot at the championship and the opportunity to become a mother.
Max sits on the bed, wiping away your tears. He doesn’t say much, at a loss of words. There’s not much he can say to make this better but he thumbs away your tears and pulls you into a hug.
You fist his shirt in your hands, crying onto his shoulder, “This is not fair.”
“I know, schatje.” Max is at a loss. He understands the conflicting feelings you have. It’s no easy thing especially after everything you and Max went through.
“I can’t go through this again,” you sob, remembering the painful memories of the previous year.
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United Arab Emirates | Nov 2022
The last race of the season has come quickly, deeming Max the World Champion for the second time running. He’s at the top of the podium as the Dutch national anthem plays. You look up at him from the third position, smiling at him proudly.
You’re frustrated that you weren’t able to catch up to him but you’re confident your time will come. Every year you’ve spent in the grid you’ve been able to rise through the ranks and get great contracts.
Mercedes took a chance on you this year and you’ve made them proud. It was a challenge against Ferrari and Red Bull but as the only woman you’d say you did brilliant.
You’re going to miss this next year but a break is due. After years of hard training and dedicating everything to your career you’ve decided to focus on your personal life.
It’s been nearly a year since you’ve married Max and the conversation surrounding children becomes more constant. It's a nagging sensation in the back of your head. A longing you can't stop.
Feeling at peace with your performance, you decided to take this next year to become a mother. You’re young so in two years you’re sure you can come back stronger than ever and give Max a run for his money.
As the ceremony comes to an end, the party begins and the champagne bottles are brought out. “Don’t run,” Max laughs, spraying the frothy liquid in your direction.
You fight back, shaking the bottle and spraying some at Max and Charles. They gang up on you as Charles blocks your way and they both spray you. That will keep the fans making edits for months to come, the implication of the action clear.
“Come on, sweetheart,” Charles yells over the cheers when you aim the spray at his mouth.
Getting off the stage and into a private room, Max takes off his hat and pulls you in by the waist to press his sweet tasting lips against yours. You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. “Congrats two-time world champion.”
“Thank you, schatje,” Max responds, brushing back the hair sticking to your forehead.
“Get a room you two,” Charles huffs, knowing you forgot he was there.
“Sorry,” you say with a blush.
“I’m not,” Max laughs, stealing another kiss.
Outside, reporters of all kind were waiting to interview all three of you. They want Max’s celebratory words and you and Charles’ disappointment and regret. They live for the heartfelt promises you'll make for next season.
“Over here!” A reporter calls you, handing you a microphone. “What’s the plan for next year? Are you renewing with Mercedes or is there another team making offers?”
“I come with sad news,” you pout at the camera, “I won’t be on the grid next year.”
The reporter stares wide-eyed at you. This is the first time you've said those words out loud. “Could you share with us why?”
You nod at his question, fixing your hat as you speak the words you rehearsed many times before. “Since I was young I was prioritizing racing and getting into Formula One. I love how far I’ve come but I want to take a step back and enjoy my personal life for a little while. As you know, I got married a year ago and I want to enjoy that newlywed life. I will be back though,” you say with a smile and a wink at the camera.
“Is there a chance you’ll tell us who the lucky guy is?” The reporter questions, not really expecting you to answer. That the one thing you won't disclose.
You laugh, shaking your head at him, “No chance. I like to keep my personal life private.”
“Worth a shot," the reporter laughs with you. "Thank you for your time and we hope to see you soon!”
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youtube upload: The Grid's Princess QUITS
thumbnail 📸: Toto Wolff looking angry and yelling at a Mercedes staff member. Lewis Hamilton with an arm around an upset looking reader.
comments:
user25: our queen is leaving? 😫 user30: who is going to keep the boys in check -> user5: i bet that’s why she’s taking a break, it’s not easy keeping charles and max under control user6: aren’t we curious as to who this mystery husband is? 👀 -> user17: i bet it’s either someone old or a billionaire, or both, i mean did you see the rock on her finger? -> user 46: oh they must be loaded to win over the grid's princess -> user96: i'm sorry but until i see proof of this man i will continue to set her up with charles user59: please, use a more dramatic title user48: i'm ready to fight 🤺 whoever made her stop racing. she's the only reason i watch them go in circles. who else is going to learn french to curse out charles properly? user55: *sigh* guess it’s time to rewatch all of the edits of her and max on repeat until she returns user104: let’s make a game. take a shot every time max and charles mention her next season.
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Monaco | March 2023
When you temporarily retired, you thought you'd become pregnant in a matter of weeks. That is not the case.
Movies make it seem so easy to become pregnant, when in reality, it’s a challenge. It took nearly four months and multiple doctor visits for you to become with child.
The Winter break was spent tangled in sheets, keeping warm in each others embrace. Max was insatiable and so were you. Any chance you had you’d be dragging him somewhere private, his hands pulling at your underwear to tug them off...or to the side.
Max's voice would be in your ear as he spoke of how good you take him. He'd encourage you with words he'd never otherwise use. His cologne would intoxicate you, putting you in a trance.
His hold was firm and steady, making you shake and arch against him. His length sinking into you until you came with his name on your lips and his seed inside you.
Then, it finally happened. A positive pregnancy test in your bathroom counter. The alarm rang loudly, making you and Max share a nervous glance.
“You look,” you say with a shaky voice and shakier hands. Your period was late, followed by your tender breasts and the morning sickness. You fear your body was making it up because you wanted it so much.
“Before that,” Max says, cupping your face, “Don’t be disappointed if it’s negative. We’re just getting started and we have a whole year to try, yeah?”
You place your hands over his and nod with a small smile. Max presses a kiss to your forehead before he picks up the home test.
Max erupts in a smile, nodding and showing you the word positive. You scream, falling into his arms. He spins you around, kissing all over your face.
You and Max are over the moon, giddily waiting for every appointment with your doctor. Every ultrasound was recorded along with the babies heart beat.
Max is ecstatic. He's been wanting to have a family with you since he realized you were the one. He thought it wouldn't happen for a long time but then you revealed you wanted it too and soon despite your career.
It took a long conversation to figure out how to go about it with both of your careers being at their peak but you came to an agreement. He was ready be a father and you were ready to be a mother, even if it meant putting your career in pause.
Your desire to bring a child into the world was greater than giving the championship another shot. Whenever you're ready to return to F1, he'll take a step back and support you.
Max planned a dinner with the whole family where you told them you were expecting. Plans to decorate the nursery littered your coffee table and your internet browser history was filled with shop links with cute clothes and baby items.
Weeks later, it happened. Something felt wrong, off.
“Maxie,” you breathe heavily, feeling wet between your legs. Cramps littering your lower abdomen.
“What's wrong?” Max sits up in bed, sensing your distressed state. His gaze fixes on the red stain forming on the white sheets.
“I’m scared,” you cry, afraid to move or do anything. Cramps squeezing your insides like a bad period.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here,” Max reassures you, “Let’s go to the bathroom, yeah? I’ll call the doctor.”
A quick trip to the ER confirmed it. You miscarried.
You couldn’t look at Max that night, hugging yourself tightly as he drove home. You ignored all the glances he threw your way, shiying away from the hand that reached out for you.
All that happiness you felt drained out of you, leaving complete sadness behind.
Max was sad about the baby but he was more focused on you and the toll it took on you. It was always a possibility. The doctor spoke about what to expect on the first trimester and this was one of the things he mentioned. You both chose to ignore it at the time.
Max kept most of the lights off in the apartment. Remembering the bags with baby stuff from your online shopping. He kept the spare bedroom closed, where you were planning how to arrange it and paint it to transform it into the nursery.
He’s never seen you this devastated. After years of knowing you and dating you he never had the chance to see you at your lowest. It breaks his fucking heart.
Max holds you that night while you're in pain and bleeding. He rocks you as you cry, tears spilling from his eyes too as all that new hope is crushed.
You need him. Max is all you have at the moment because while he goes to race on the weekends and clear his head, you stay home with the weight of losing a baby.
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Zandvoort | August 2023
With medical clearance and a couple of months to heal mentally. You and Max got to trying again.
You aren’t quitters and again you both desperately want a child. There's lots of sex, more than before. Something reignited in the relationship, like when the relationship began. Nothing could keep you away from Max back then.
He would fuck you wherever he could. Often times risking being seen. It was a moment where neither of you cared about being caught or being exposed to the whole world.
The Two-Time World Champion and the Grid’s Princess. Happily Married and Horny for Each Other.
The second time you found out you were pregnant was in Zandvoort, Max’s home race. You weren’t traveling as much trying to give your body rest and hopefully encourage it to take but this was a special track for Max so you tagged along.
Similar symptoms were arising so you waited to arrive at Zandvoort to take the test with Max. You were once again in the bathroom, sitting on the counter. He was between your legs, his head on your chest, waiting for the four minutes to be over.
“If it’s negative?” You asked, your fingers in his hair, scratching at his scalp to relax him.
“Then we try again and again and again,” he says cheekily, grabbing onto your thighs and kissing you.
“You’d like that wouldn’t you,” you giggle, pulling at his roots to make him groan.
“Perhaps but I’m not the one yelling out my name,” he smirks, recalling the other night when he had you with your legs up on his shoulders as he entered you slow and deep. If he closes his eyes he can hear your whiny moans begging for him to tip you over the edge.
“Poor Checo had to call the front desk and fill in a complaint,” you giggle, hiding your face from Max with your hands.
“It’s not my fault I didn’t see his text,” Max shrugs, not having a care in the world.
He was in his suite with his wife, having fun and trying to conceive. It’s not his fault he was making you feel so good you felt the need to scream his name and it’s not his fault Checo’s bedroom was right next to yours. Blame the Red Bull team for reserving two suites right next to each other.
The triggering alarm sounds, making your heart race. This time you grab the test, deciphering what the faint lines mean. You ran out of the good pregnancy tests and you were too lazy to go out and get new ones.
“It’s positive!” You squeal, showing the home test to Max.
Max’s eyes widen, “We did it!”
“I'm so happy,” you tear up from joy, hugging Max’s shoulders. Nothing is stopping him tomorrow on the track. He’s going to ride this high as long as possible.
Max grabs your thighs, forcing you to wrap your legs around him. He carries you over to the bed, kissing your lips, your neck, your chest.
Max was going to make you scream out his name again.
There was little celebration. You and Max kept the news to yourselves for a while longer. You took every precaution on the book. You stopped traveling with Max afraid it was one of the causes of your first miscarriage. You took care of your diet, you did minimal exercise, took every prenatal vitamin you could find but much like the first time, it happened again.
This time you felt so defeated, like something was wrong with you. Like maybe you weren’t meant to bring a child into the world or become a mother.
Max found you on the balcony one night after it happened. It was freezing outside so he got a blanket and wrapped it around your shoulders.
“‘I'm sorry,” you sniffle, not meeting his eyes. Your tears were cold against your cheeks.
“For what?” Max asks, watching you carefully. Your eyes red rimmed and nose runny.
“There’s something wrong with me and I can’t give us a baby,” you cry softly, wiping away at your tears.
You feel so ashamed and embarrassed. Having a baby shouldn’t be this fucking hard. You’ve done so much in life and this simple thing you can’t do. Something your body was designed to do.
“Hey, no. You know what the doctor said. There’s nothing wrong with you and there’s so many other ways we can have children together,” Max chides you, pulling his chair closer and grabbing your shoulders so you look at him.
“If there’s nothing wrong with me why does it keep happening?” You ask as your eyes well with more tears. They haven’t stopped in a good ten minutes.
“It’s not our time yet.” It’s the only thing Max can say. He doesn’t have all the answers in the world but there is one thing he’s sure of. “I love you no matter what.”
“I don’t want to go through this again.” Your bottom lip wobbles as you speak. The words getting caught on your throat.
It’s not like you don’t want children because you desperately do but you can’t go through another disappointment. More pain and more blood. More false hope.
“You don’t have to,” Max tells you, comforting you the best way he can. He picks you up, settling you on his lap as he wraps his arms around you. He kisses your head, coming up with words to make you feel better.
He doesn’t want a child if the process is going to cause you so much suffering. It’s hard seeing you like this when he’s used to seeing you be this independent strong woman, who broke barriers in a field of men.
He’s discovering a new side to you deep into your relationship. He loves you but it’s shocking to see you be this vulnerable when a lot of times you love to handle things on your own. In a way, he’s happy he’s able to be here with you and help you.
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Monza | November 2023
In Formula One rumors spread like wildfire. Within the teams and its members and riders the reason for your break didn’t remain a secret for long.
It didn’t stop certain teams from reaching out and persuading you into joining them. As far as they know you’re not pregnant yet and you did promise to return one day.
As the only woman in the grid you pull in lots of sponsors and the media and fans love you. Having you on a team is a win all around, considering you also bring in trophies.
Ferrari is a big team showing their interest in you. They’ve sent your manager multiple invitations for you to come and visit Ferrari Headquarters. No strings attached just a simple tour and meeting.
It’s tempting. Driving for Ferrari is every F1 racers dream and to be invited to test out their car and talk business is an honor.
You went quietly to the meeting, undecided if it’s the choice you want to make. Mercedes awaits your return whenever you’re ready, having led them to victory many times alongside Lewis.
Oh, Toto Wolff has you in his sight constantly. If he knew you were at Monza he’d probably fly down and get you out. You’re one of his biggest assets yet.
“There's our princess,” Charles greets you, running up to you and giving you a big hug.
He missed having you around. The fans never let him forget of all the good times, constantly tagging him on instagram and twitter.
“Hey Charles,” you laugh as he sways you from side to side.
“I missed you,” he says as he guides you over to the garage.
“Missed me kicking your ass?” You quip, playfully pushing him.
“Please, competing against Max on my own is exhausting. Too much responsibility,” Charles admits.
“He’s having the time of his life.” Max has the most fun when there are challenges and Charles has proven to be a worthy one. Insults and all. He loves getting a rise out of him.
The Ferrari team sets you up with a bright red race suit, giving you a visual of what your future has in store.
The feel of the baclavla is familiar around your head and the weight of the helmet comforting. It’s been a year since you last wore the uniform and it feels like home.
You step into the car, slidding in the steering wheel. The crew gives you the signal to pull out and you do with a push on the gas.
The rumble of the engine is exhilarating as is the blend of colors around you. It comes back so naturally, knowing when to push the car when to break. Learning this car is easy, like it’s made for you.
It has the potential to be a winner, to help you achieve the goal of becoming world champion.
“Ready to join Scuderia Ferrari?” Frederic Vasseif asks you once you get out of the car. There’s a smugness to him. He knows you enjoyed it and you’re itching for more.
“I don’t know. Carlos seems to be doing really well,” you try to play it cool, taking off your helmet and baclavla to shake off your hair.
“He’s good but you’re the greatest,” Fred says, giving you a knowing look.
“If I accept it’s because I want to win the Championship,” you negotiate. Charles is the first driver and it makes sense he stays there since he’s been with the team longer but you will not sacrifice yourself for him.
“We wouldn’t have it any other way,” Fred agrees, extending his hand to shake yours.
“The predestined and the princess?” Charles smiles, wrapping an arm around you.
You smile and bite your lip, “It’s time to take down Max Verstappen.”
No wonder the fans think there’s a long standing rivalry between you and Max. You talk a lot about taking him down and winning the championship. With the trust you two have he bites back with words of his own. It makes for quite a show. They’re going to lose it once it’s revealed you’re joining Ferrari.
Your joy returning home is palpable. Max notices it the moment you walk into your shared home in Monaco. The cats notice it too as they weave between your legs asking to be pet.
"Hi, love," Max greets you, placing his hands on your hips and kissing you. You wrap your arms your his neck loosely, smiling into the kiss.
He doesn't let you go when the kiss breaks, his thumbs caressing your back. You smile at him, a hand on his face, as your fingers brush over his stubble. He leans into it. “How did it go?”
“It's top secret," you say cheekily.
"Really?" Max follows along amusedly, "You can't even tell your dear husband Max Emilian?"
It's been an inside joke since you started dating that the person you're dating is Max Emilian and not Max Verstappen. Helps keep things separated to a certain degree but mostly it's funny.
"Well, if it's Max Emilian asking I can tell him that I've just signed with Ferrari and that Max Verstappen will have some serious competition next year," you tell him as your smile widens.
“Congratulations!" Max exclaims, hugging you tightly. You laugh is music in his ears. From the moment you stepped in he knew something changed. You were laughing and smiling like a weight was lifted off your shoulders.
“I’m a Ferrari girl now and I’m going to take that title from you,” she boasts, playfully pushing him.
“That’s a big statement,” he says, playfully caging her in his arms. Max adores that her competitive streak is back, it's one of the things he fell in love with when you began dating.
Being married means being there in the bad and the good, in sickness and in health. He'll be by your side through it all but he'd rather have you be happy and competitive than depressed and anxious.
“What you think I can’t do it?” You laugh when he tries tickling you. Your this close to elbowing him if he doesn't stop.
Finally letting up, he cups your face and looks into your eyes as he says, “If there’s someone who is going to do it, it’s you. You're my girl after all.”
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f1 posted on instagram: The Princess is back and in red. Everyone bow down. 📸: Reader wearing a Ferrari race suit posing in front of the new Ferrari SF-23. Comments: user8: holy shit she’s back
user95: this was not on my bingo card, but it was in my dreams every night since she left -> user57: like a wise woman once said in rome; this is what dreams are made of
user72: guess she had enough of that married life and is back to wreck these boys
user14: i might actually fucking cry. our queen is back and in ferrari red -> user98: red is definitely her color. -> user67: you know who's color it is too? charles... ->user53: you know who likes charles? max... ->user17: i can't with you 💀
user67: i want to see max squirm with both charles and her against him -> user55: please if anything it’ll turn him on -> user45: hell even i'm turned on
user88: wait does this mean she can’t curse at charles anymore? -> user68: don't worry, the second charles gets in her way it's coming. don't you remember that one time she almost crashed with lewis and she let him have it? -> user 90: i've never seen lewis be that fast outside of a car
user12: i’ve got my editing program ready, i’ll get all the edits. max x princess, predestined x princess, max x charles, i got them all -> user56: i'm not picky, i'll help -> user02: you should do one where she's walking in like in those wwe fights with the dramatic music
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Monaco | Nov 2024
The conversation about the pregnancy is kept on pause. You and Max wait till you're back home in Monaco to continue it. It's fresh in your minds though as you try and make sense of he timing of it all.
There's only two more races to the season, you are so close to the end. You wish you hadn't found out till much later, they do say ignorance is bliss.
You're filled with fear and uncertainty. What if this pregnancy ends up like the rest? What if you give up the championship for something that might not even happen? But what if you chose the championship and give up a viable pregnancy?
The morning after arriving at Monaco you're in the kitchen with your laptop in front of you as you schedule an appointment with your doctor. The cup of coffee you made earlier is now cold as you could barely drink it with so many thoughts in your head.
You cover your face with your hands, groaning at the headache forming so early in the day.
Max finds you like that and he knows it's time to talk. He comes up behind you, pressing a kiss and resting his chin on your shoulder as he hugs you from behind.
"What's on your mind, schatje?"
You take a deep breath, focusing on him to try and gather your thoughts, "I don't know what to do, Maxie. What do I do?"
"I can't tell you what to do. I can tell you that I want to have a baby with you but I don’t want you to go through all that pain again or feel pressured that you need to do this for me. I love you and I want you to be happy. If it's choosing your career I'm here for you. If it's starting a family I'm here as well," Max says as he hugs you tighter until you relax against him.
You shake your head, lacing your fingers with his as they lie on your midsection. "It's the fact that the first two didn't end well and it was such a horrible experience. If I knew for a fact I was going to give birth to this baby I would drop the championship in a heartbeat."
"I'm happy with whatever you choose. Even if you decide that carrying a baby isn't for you. Later on we can try surrogacy or adoption."
It's 2024 and there are tons of options out there in the case you want to become parents. It doesn't have to be one way or no way. Plus, they are young and have their lives ahead of them.
"Really? You couldn’t be like one of the awful men who insist women need to have a baby? You’re making this hard on me," you lightly joke, bringing his hand to your lips to kiss it.
Max laughs along with you. He knows you've made a decision even if you haven't realized. He's only there to guide you. “You already made a decision, schatje.”
Your eyes return to your laptop where the appointment with the specialty clinic is displayed. “I need to give this pregnancy a chance. I mean think about it. I've raced, I've drank alcohol and it's still here. It happened against all odds, Maxie. What if it’s a sign? That the timing is right,” you say, recalling the conversation you had with him a year ago. “I just hate I need to withdraw from the rest of the races.”
Max made a decision that same moment, “I’ll pull out from the races too.” It feels shitty that because you're a woman you have to pull out the races for your safety and the baby's while he continues on like nothing has happened.
“What? That’s insane Max,” you exclaim, staring at him bewildered.
“It’s only fair. You have to do it to have OUR baby, why do you have to be the only one who quits?”
You laugh and shake your head, placing your hands on his chest, “You’re not doing that, Max. This is F1 and it’s ruthless which is why you’re so good at it. Besides, with last Sunday's race you're already ahead of me and there's no chance the others are catching up with two races to go. The title is yours," you reassure him, kissing the corner of his mouth, “It’s not my time to be a world champion yet and maybe it never will. I have to accept that."
Max scoffs, poking his tongue on his cheek, “No, you will be. Once you have this baby you’re coming back even if I have to give away my seat in Red Bull.”
“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you hum, looking into his eyes.
“You beat me on your rookie year,” he reminds you.
Back when you started in F1 and neither you or Max were on the top you had friendly battles in the midst of the races. It wasn't for podium but it kept the fans entertained and recruiters eyes on you both. Max beat you most times but there was one day you beat him on a wet race which is unheard of.
“Once!”
“Once was enough!” He insists. Max fell in love with your competitive side, it didn't matter if you beat him or not. That day when you approached him with that big smile and malicious intent in your eyes he was done for.
“How will we handle the media?” He steers the conversation a different place. He's not sure how much longer he can keep the relationship a secret with a baby on the way.
“Same as always. They can’t know about us yet, Maxie. They will throw your name on the ground and say horrible things.”
If the media finds out that you're pregnant with Max's baby they will say it's sabotage cause he felt threatened that you were going to take the title from him. They don't care for details.
“I don’t know how much longer we can keep this a secret,” he confesses, trying to reason with you.
“Not long okay? After the baby comes,” you promise him. After the baby comes you will tell the world everything.
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F1_news tweeted: The Grid's Princess is withdrawing from the rest of the races this season due to her health. Not much is known yet. Carlos Sainz to take over her seat.
comments:
user56: not again please -> user97: i'm in tears -> user57: alexa play 'see you again' by charlie puth
user64: i hope she's doing okay and is able to return next year. she was so close on getting the championship
user76: i love the queen but i'm happy to get charlos back again! -> user34: it's very bitter sweet isn't it? -> user57: i wonder if she'll be back with ferrari next year? -> user45: well her contract is for two years so if she's okay when the next season starts i don't see why not -> user08: contracts mean nothing in F1 user04: get ready to witness a pouty max -> user 87: these next few races will be a piece of cake and he hates it -> user72: i love lando and charles but there's no way they are going to give him a hard time
user46: this is the end of the princess, who is going to want her back? -> user 43: get the fuck out of here you hater -> user345: who asked for your opinion?
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F1_fanpage: The Grid's princess seen walking out of a clinic specialized in complicated pregnancies. 📸
user45: holy shit, it all makes fucking sense she’s pregnant -> user58: i didn't want to say anything but dizzy and nausea? it’s textbook pregnancy
user67: our queen is having a prince(ss) -> user176: who is the fucking dad? -> user404: he needs to be a part of F1 for her to still be around when she should be home resting
user47: she's glowing
user68: not her audibly rooting for carlos on the latest race -> user99: well it is only temporary and it's not like they kicked her out. she left because she had to -> user55: we love a supportive queen either way
user88: did ya'll see her interacting with max and charles after the race? they were so careful with her. it makes so much sense! -> user44: i'm hyperventilating we got a max hug! -> user 67: better yet we got a charles hug! -> user12: opening up my editing program as we speak
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Part 2 Coming Soon
The world is aware you're now pregnant. You got a job working for the F1 social media and interview team during your pregnancy. Rumors keep spreading about who your husband and baby daddy is. Fans keep shipping you with Max and Charles. Max might just explode if he doesn’t tell everyone, but will he?
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2K notes · View notes
nothomegal · 2 months ago
Text
"Kiss. Teach. Love!"
(Mr. Crawling x GN! Reader)
No way, NotHomeGal actually revived? Yup, I did. Homicipher brought me back to life from the depts of my creative burnout (o゜▽゜)o☆
This game really scratched a part of my brain I didn't know was there, but I'm not complaining!
And no, I won't be abandoning the slasher fandom, but I must say it will take some time to come back to write those right now, but I'll do my best to rekindle that spark!
Okay, enough of my yapping. Hope you enjoy this Oneshot (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)
Summary: after learning that sometimes objects from the human world may fall into the realm you're currently stuck in, it became a common activity for you to scavenge around the junk to pass time, and your ghost companion always seems so curious about it!
Warnings: none really just fluff, Mr. Crawling being too cute for a mortal soul to handle.
Side note: yeah just like in most (basically all) of my fics, MC (or Y/N) will be Gender Neutral! So everyone gets to enjoy the story with their favorite ghost man :]
AND! Here's the link of the dictionary I used for the fic to put ghost words heheerhkj.
Word count: 3.6k
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It's been so long, they think at least. Time feels stuck in place, yet in the deepest part of (Y/N)'s conscience they know it's not true, that the time and everything outside these lifeless concrete walls is very much alive.
Life goes on, it keeps moving regardless if they feel it or not, time is passing just like it always did... Yet, they feel stuck. Numb. It's like their mind and soul are slowly melting, becoming one with this dimension they begrudgingly started to call "home", even if it's not... This is not their real home!...
It's not!...
It's not...
It's not...?
—"☨ д つ 々?"— (Sad)
A quiet gasp left (Y/N)'s lips when suddenly something brushed against their leg as that soft voice spoke next to them, that "something" being the very long, dark hair of their ghost companion.
They turn their head, almost flinching at the sight of how close Mr. Crawling was to them. Shoot, sometimes they forget how unnerving his appearance is, especially when he creeps up on them like this, though unintentionally.
—"ત ટ д ☨ д つ 々?"— (You Sad)
He repeated the question, his usual smile now replaced with a small frown. His voice quiet and soft as always, but with that subtle quiver at the end that appeared whenever he's concerned.
(Y/N)'s breath almost hitched from that little but oh so sweet display of care. Even after all the time spent side by side with Mr. Crawling, they still periodically wonder what the hell did they do to deserve such kind perso... Ghost, in their life.
Before the entity's worry could grow, (Y/N) flashed him with a smile, shaking their head a little.
—"I'm alright, just a little distracted."—
Their answer did seem to soothe the ghost's worry a little. However, he leaned closer, more of his hair falling into (Y/N)'s body, sending small shiver through their form as the black locks brushed their legs, sensation that resembling a small breeze of air running across their skin. An odd, chilly feeling... But one that became very comforting and grounding for the human over the time, as it was like a gentle reminder of Mr. Crawling's presence, that they weren't alone.
—"つ ત บ บ λ ป こ ৺ נ ८ ک ટ ? つ ત บ บ つ ኟ บ ટ ?"— (Not Bad Feel Not Scared)
Their smile faltered for a brief moment, knowing exactly what he was talking about...
Even if it's been quite a while since (Y/N) had one of those episodes of fear and hallucinations, the memories of them are still haunting the human in one way or another, leaving this uncomfortable sensation under their skin. It's like feeling hands, snaking all over their body, slowly slipping under their clothes, creeping through their skin and flesh, trying to dig deeper and deeper, right to their very core, trying to reach something so deep inside of them and rip it away from them...
Their essence?
Their soul?
T̵͉̗̒ḣ̴̻̱̂ȅ̷͓͘i̵̤͙̐͝ȑ̶͈̖̏ n̷̳̻̬̮̯̟̗̙̩̻̮͊͋̾́͐͌̏͒̿̏̆̑͜͠ä̴̢̧̡̦͕̻̙̻͕̳̟́̊͊̾̄̈́ḿ̵̡̢̛̜͉̗̗̞͖̟͈̬͈̻͍͌̋̓̐̅͘͠e̵͇̹͈̤͕̮̺͉͚͈͔̭͇̔-?
The human then simply hums, shaking off the heavy feeling off their mind. Their gaze soon focuses back on Mr. Crawling's face, their smile creeping back on their features, but now brighter, happier.
—"つ ત บ บ λ ป こ ৺ נ ८ ک ટ . つ ત บ บ ጉ ሰ ટ נ."— (Not Bad Feel Not Together)
They replied cheerfully, confidently using the otherworldly language to make sure there is no room for doubts left.
Upon hearing their answer and seeing that smile he absolutely adored, Mr. Crawling himself smiles back, letting that characteristic high-pitched giggle of of his. And just like (Y/N) expected, the crawling ghost reached out and gently patted their head, ruffling their grayish hair a little.
—"ㄷコ ਦ υ ป ! ㄷコ ਦ υ ป !"— (Glad Glad)
(Y/N) giggled as well, already used to Mr. Crawling's joyful chirps at whatever little thing they do. Once satisfied, the ghost slowly retires his hand from their head and leans back to his previous position right next to the human in a raincoat, his dark locks trailing behind and sliding off (Y/N)'s legs as he gives them a little bit of space.
They hum, that happy smile remaining on their lips, brightening a bit their bandage-covered face, returning some of color and life to it. The human soon shift their attention back to what they were previously up to, which was scavenging and going through all the junk and rumble that fell down here from the human world.
While (Y/N) is the one going through the numerous items, Mr. Crawling remained focused on them. Staying next to their crouched form and curiously watching the things they periodically picked up and inspected, sometimes even picking something himself and asking what it is and what humans do with it.
The activity was simple, but it was like a huge breath of air for (Y/N) and a great way to distract their mind from the decay this world was putting them through, helping them remember who they are and what are supposed to be. A human, an unfortunate human that found themselves in this place of absolute madness...
(Y/N)'s train of thoughts stopped when their eyes suddenly caught a glimpse of something bright and colorful under a small pile of old, messed news articles. And after carefully pushing aside all the trash, they get a clear sight of what it is.
A manga cover!
(Y/N)'s eyes widened and their smile grew as they reach out and grab the manga book, picking it up and instantly flipping through the pages.
—"No way, it's actually in good, readable condition!"—
They exclaimed excitedly, eyes wandering through the pages with interest.
Mr. Crawling simply observed, curiously watching them inspect the book. He noticed that (Y/N) would always get super excited whenever they saw one of these colorful pictures, and it made him happy to see them happy! As well as to keep a mental note to find more of these to make them even happier.
However, as the human paused on one of the pages, probably to check if the paper is holding up alright after getting a little wet. Something completely different caught the ghost's attention.
Slowly, Mr. Crawling reaches his hand again, pointing at a particular drawing with his finger while tilting his head to the side, like a confused puppy would.
—"נ บ ਦ ኟィд ⊔ ટ ৺ ㅗ?"— (What They Do)
He asked, gently tapping the picture with his finger.
(Y/N) glances at the spot their ghost companion is pointing at, their eyebrows rising slightly as they see an illustration of two of the characters kissing. Oh, did they just spoiled themselves one of the subplots?...
—"This?"—
They asks, eyes flickering between the comic and Mr. Crawling's face.
—"π々⊔ λ ک つ ત コ ጉ ک こ?"— (Why Touch Mouth)
The ghost asked again, genuine curiosity lingering in his quiet voice as he taps the paper again, his head turning to the side to look at (Y/N). Despite half of his face being covered by his dark hair, they could practically feel his curious stare, almost like a kid waiting for his parent to answer.
—"ک  ጉ ㄷ π π々⊔ ?"— (Teach Why)
He asks, now his attention completely casted on (Y/N), patiently waiting for their answer.
The mentioned human stays silent at fist, seemingly surprised the ghost actually doesn't know what a kiss is and why people do it. However, the more they think about it, the less he can blame Mr. Crawling. After all, this world is not built for affection, and considering all the dangers that lurk here on daily basis, it's not too surprising that some residents of this place don't even know what affection is.
—"Well. This is called a kiss, 'kiss'."—
They explain, pointing at their lips as they spell the word for him.
—"K- K̴̻̍-K̶̥͔̒ḭ̷̢̆̾ṣ̵̠͊s̵̮̎̾-?"—
He attempts to repeat, though the sound comes more as a hiss rather than an actual word... Still, (Y/N) was proud of him for trying! And expresses such joy with a soft giggle.
—"Yeah, kiss. Uh..."—
They paused, thinking over their wording before continuing.
—"☨ บ п ป Kiss ત λ コㄷ ک  ጉ ㄷ π ㄷ ८ コ ㅗ."— (Human _ Desire Teach Love)
They finish, scratching their cheek with a sheepish smile, knowing that their explanation probably sounded wonky a weird, especially with that little mix between languages.
The ghost, makes a small "oh" sound, actually understanding their answer even with the odd wording.
Suddenly, Mr. Crawling's face lightens in puppy-like joy as he leans closer, his face just inches away from the human's when he starts to chirp back.
—"ત λ コㄷ ک  ጉ ㄷ π ㄷ ८ コ ㅗ ! "— (Desire Teach Love)
(Y/N) raised their eyebrows at his words, their cheeks suddenly feeling a little warmer.
(Hold on, is he asking me for a kiss?!)
As flustered as they were, upon seeing that excited, happy smile of the ghost that they grew so attached to, they couldn't find the heart to tell him no even if their life depended on it. Beside, it's just a kiss, and they both like each other! So why not?
—"Eh... Hehehe. Okay, okay. You kiss like this."—
They answer, before suddenly leaning forward and pressing their lips against the cold skin of his cheek.
A soft, quiet gasp escaped the ghost's lips, the difference in temperature between his and (Y/N) body never failing to make his chest feel all funny, though not unpleasant type of funny. But now with the added softness of their lips and the hot breath casted on his face, it created a sensation he haven't felt before.
The human leans back a little, chuckling under their breath at the ghost's reaction. However, their smile begin to fade when they notice how still he suddenly got.
They go silent, patiently waiting for Mr. Crawling to say or do something, but he remained perfectly still and dead silent, like some kind of creepy statue. Did they just cross some boundary they didn't know about?...
—"Mr. Crawling?..."— you ask eventually, voice quiet. —"Are you alright? Did I-..."—
(Y/N) paused when he finally does move, slowly lifting his hand from the opened manga book and brushing his fingers against his cheek, right on the spot they kissed him a second ago.
Suddenly, another high-pitched giggle escaped the ghost as he immediately launches forward, forcing (Y/N) back and basically tackling them to the ground into that famous overzealous hug of his they came to secretly adore.
—"K̶̥͔̒ḭ̷̢̆̾ṣ̵̠͊s̵̮̎̾ ! K̶̥͔̒ḭ̷̢̆̾ṣ̵̠͊s̵̮̎̾ !"—
He cheerfully exclaims with his broken human speech, before mimicking (Y/N)'s action and pressing his lips against their cheek. Though, more than an kiss his gesture resembled a nuzzle, like big dog gently bumping his favorite person with his nose.
—"৺ ጉ נ ⊔ λ ત д ک  ጉ ㄷ π ㄷ ८ コ ㅗ ! "— (Me Want to Teach Love)
(Y/N) just couldn't help but laugh at the sweet action of the ghost, their cheeks turning much redder and warmer than before. With their hands no longer being occupied by the manga book, they reach and rest their hands on Mr. Crawling's back, basically hugging him back as the entity continues to joyfully express his liking through the newfound gesture.
—"You're doing it pretty good! But this is not exactly a kiss..."—
They eventually say, sliding their hands from his back and instead resting them on his shoulders. At the sound of their voice, Mr. Crawling's affectionate nuzzles pause and leans back, tilting his head to the side with curiosity.
—"Yeah, you need to press your lips, not caress with them. Ehm..."—
They fall silent, their gaze adverting for a brief moment as they try to find the needed words to describe what they're trying to say, but all they get is a reminder of how poor and limited the ghost vocabulary is...
Mr. Crawling remained quiet, patiently waiting for (Y/N) to figure out their wording. He didn't mind the wait at all to be honest, patience being one of his biggest virtues after all. Beside, seeing the human mumble and emit noises under their breath while making funny faces, such as pushing their lips or furrowing their brows, was a very cute sight to witness!
When realized that words, human or not, won't cut it. (Y/N) decided to use actions instead, as their head was starting to hurt at this point from this damn language barrier. So, with a soft sigh their eyes flicker back at Mr. Crawling, who was still patiently waiting for them to figure out their wording, or maybe taking the chance to look and admire their face, or maybe both...
—"৺ ጉ נ ک  ጉ ㄷ π ત ટ д Kiss."— (Me Teach You)
They finally said, a hint of determination in their tone, though it was mostly directed to (Y/N) as they try to push through their own sudden rush of shyness and fluster. How comes they can be all giggly and cuddly when Mr. Crawling literally tackles them, but then turn into a blushing mess from a little kiss?! Ugh, even they start to make less sense the more they stay in this world...
At their words, the ghost seemed almost ecstatic. He already was eager to get any sort of attention from (Y/N), let alone affection. So the mere thought of feeling their lips pressed against his skin again made his whole body almost shake.
(Y/N) could feel the ghost's body grow tense from the overwhelming joy, and it was such a strangely endearing sight to witness; an otherworldly entity acting like an overjoyed puppy about to receive his favorite treat.
They giggle again, giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze before speaking.
—"Okay hehe... Eeh... Look, you kiss like this, 々ኟп৺."— (Look)
They say before leaning closer, the distance between their and Mr. Crawling's face growing smaller and smaller, until their lips finally come in contact with the ghost's other cheek.
They can feel him shiver, clearly still not used to the new sensation, but he was definitely loving it judging by the way his long arms slightly closed around their body, almost hugging them and pressing their smaller form against his taller one.
(Y/N) leans back a tiny bit, taking the chance to simply look at the entity who was holding them in it's embrace so tenderly. Of course, this is not the first, nor last, time they'll be held by Mr. Crawling. But... Right now, there's something different, they feel different. Their heart is pounding like crazy, yes. But they no longer feel flustered or embarrassed, they feel strangely in peace in fact.
There's always been something captivating about the crawling ghost, even with his unnerving traces. The way his long, black hair surrounds them, a void that's isolating both from the outside world, covering them like a veil, making each the protagonist of the other's gaze. For a monster-filled place like this, the moment felt almost romantic.
The human let a soft exhale, their lips parting ever so slightly. And before their brain could even realize it, (Y/N) was already leaning forward again.
They don't know what came over them, but their mind, their heart, and even that little voice was telling them the same thing...
{Do it.)
They press their lips again, this time against the tip of his nose, getting one of these little "eh" sounds out of him.
They didn't stop there however, instead starting to pepper the ghost's face with more kisses. His cheeks, his forehead, his jaw...
(Y/N)'s movements were slow and delicate, keeping in mind the comfort of their otherworldly companion as they shower him with this new, intimate affection. They weren't quite sure what he was thinking about all of this, if he was getting overwhelmed or not, if he truly enjoyed or understood how much this moment meant for humans... But by how his arms seem to close more around their smaller form, how his fingers flex around the fabric of their raincoat, how his body seemed to gradually relax and even lean into the new, loving gesture...
Yeah, they knew he understood.
However, as (Y/N) was about to reach his lips, an inexplicable wave of hesitation came all over them, freezing them in place and incapacitating from moving back of forward, their heartbeat getting surprisingly, almost painfully loud.
(What's going on?)
(Why am I feeling so... Self-conscious?)
(No... No. I want to do it, I need to do it! Come on body, move! Move god damnit!)
They screamed inside of their mind, yet their body still refused to move, regardless of all the mental berating they were putting themselves through. Their grip on Mr. Crawling's shoulder tightened a little, like a silent attempt to ground themselves and remember just how close the ghost was, how he was waiting for them to continue, how he was waiting for them. But... They... They just couldn't move.
However, after a few beats of silence and inactivity had passed, is Mr. Crawling the one to finally break the tension and lean forward, his cold lips pressing against the warm ones of the human.
And just like that, all the doubts and hesitations had melted away in (Y/N), and everything felt alright again. No, more than alright. This felt perfect, intimate, sweet, and surprisingly innocent. Holding nothing but the affection, care and love the two beings felt for one another, now in it's purest way.
A human.
And a ghost.
Together, connected to each other not just in a physical way, but now in a deep, emotional way...
The kiss itself probably didn't last even 10 seconds, but in (Y/N)'s and Mr. Crawling's mind it felt like two eternities had passed, and many more would if they'd decided to keep going.
After breaking the kiss, the two just stay like this for a while, looking at each other as their minds clear from the haze and feeling of drunkenness the sweet exchange left behind. Mr. Crawling still on top of (Y/N), but instead of just hovering over them like he always did, now his arms were tightly wrapped around their frame, keeping them securely in place right between the ground and his body.
(Y/N) couldn't explain it, but right now they feel like they're falling again for the ghost. Just by being held in his embrace and hidden underneath his larger body, they felt so safe and at peace... So...
It's like they were home.
Their home...
He became their home, their safe place, their happy place...
Him...
—"λ ک ሰ ৺ ટ ?"— (Are you okay)
Mr. Crawling suddenly asked, his smile faltering as his embrace on them tightens a little. It was almost like he was concerned he did something wrong and broke them, what a sweetheart.
(Y/N) blinked, noticing they were probably staring and zoning out with this little realization of theirs, realization that their real home was not in this or their world.
It was with Mr. Crawling.
Or at least, that's what their heart told them.
—"I'm fine."—
The human said in a soft voice. Their body leaning forward while speaking, snuggling closer to the ghost's chest, the action feeling like a little dejavu to the time he hid them from the man in red.
Ugh... The sole mention of that guy is still sending shivers through their body, so let's not think about him.
—"৺コኅ ጉ ሰ ટ נ ৺ ጉ נ ሰ ኟ つ ጉ."— (Us Together Me Happy)
Mr. Crawling didn't take long to let yet another high-pitched giggle, his head coming to rest on top of (Y/N)'s, nuzzling gently against their hair and raincoat hood.
—"ㄷコ ਦ υ ป ! ㄷコ ਦ υ ป !"— (Glad Glad)
He chirped cheerfully, his arms tightening just a little to give the human a gentle squeeze.
—"ત ટ д ሰ ኟ つ ጉ ৺ ጉ נ ㄷコ ਦ υ ป !"— (You Happy Me Grateful)
—"৺ ጉ נ ㄷ ८ コ ㅗ ત ટ д !"— (Me Like You)
—"৺ ጉ נ ㄷ ८ コ ㅗ ጉ ሰ ટ נ ત ટ д !"— (Me Like Together You)
All (Y/N) could do at the moment is giggle and attempt to keep up with his excitement. Jeez, they forgot how talkative Mr. Crawling gets when excited. They reach out at some point, affectionately rubbing his back like a quiet request to slow down, which the ghost quickly complies by stopping his speech and instead resorting just to the nuzzling.
The two remained like this for quite a while, just enjoying this precious moment of having each other close. Even if they knew that the next time (Y/N) needs to take a nap, they'll be in embraced again.
—"Alright, that's enough for now.—
The human muttered, giving the ghost's back a few gentle pats like a way of saying that they wanted him to move.
Mr. Crawling doesn't try to protest at all, surprisingly. And after giving one more squeeze, his arms loosen around (Y/N)'s form and he slowly lets go, his body getting off them and instead settling right by their side. That's probably the reason he didn't complain about letting go, knowing he'd be next to them one way or another.
(Y/N) chuckled again at the ghost's sneaky antics, finding them pretty adorable. And after reaching out to pat his head again, the human settles into a more comfortable position and grabs the manga book they previously dropped from Mr. Crawling's surprise-tackle-hug.
—"Okay, let's see what this is about..."—
The human muttered to themselves while opening the book and starting to read the story, deciding to go blind into it and discover the plot as they progress with the story.
Mr. Crawling in the meantime had found his comfortable spot by placing his head against (Y/N)'s shoulder, with one of his arms resting across their waist, keeping them in this half hug.
Even if the ghost didn't understand a word, the illustrations of the manga were very helpful and allowed him to follow the story along with the human. Though there were things he also didn't quite understand about human behavior, it wasn't a big deal since (Y/N) would always chive in and explain him things.
As the two lay there, reading, Mr. Crawling suddenly lifted his head and pressed his lips against (Y/N)'s cheek gently, this time actually kissing them.
—"৺ ጉ נ ک  ጉ ㄷ π ㄷ ८ コ ㅗ ત ટ д ! "— (Me Teach Love You)
He said in a sweet, happy tone that nearly made (Y/N)'s heart explode. Ugh, seriously who gave him the right to be so cute!?
—"ㄷコ ਦ υ ป."— (Grateful)
—"ㄷ ८ コ ㅗ ৺ ጉ נ ?"— (Like Me)
(Aaand there he goes again. Yup, high-maintenance type...)
(But he's my high-maintenance type.)
—"ㄷ ८ コ ㅗ ત ટ д."— (Like You)
They replied warmly, planting another kiss on top of his head, gaining yet another lovely giggle from the entity before returning their attention to the manga. The ghost soon following their example, settling back into his previous position, occasionally nuzzling against their shoulder like an affectionate cat. They could swear he'd be purring if he could.
And while reading the manga, (Y/N) couldn't help but smile, but also dread a little at how the next days would go now that Mr. Crawling learned about kissing and what it meant...
...
They're going to get tackled A LOT.
"Won't they?"
540 notes · View notes
cowboybeepboop · 3 months ago
Text
Temptation
"I’m right here. I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart."
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Pairing: Scott Miller x fem! Reader
Genre: Smut, angst with a fluffy ending
Word count: 5.3k
Summary: You have a crush on Scott which leads to a passionate night together, he leaves in the morning and you have to face him at work the next day. 
Warnings: Unprotected sex, p in v sex, one night stand. 
a/n: Idk with this one, I usually write soft and romantic so even when I tried something new it ended soft and romantic. Hopefully you enjoy it, as always send any requests you have my way! I love writing requests, I’m also looking to broaden the characters I write for so let me know if you have anything for other fandoms <3
As the headlights of Javi's pickup truck flickered across the neon sign of the "Easy Sleep Motel," the anticipation of finally seeing Scott again filled the air. 
For the past few weeks, you had been chasing storms together in the heart of Tornado Alley, forming a bond that went beyond the thrill of the hunt. Scott had become more than just a colleague; his piercing blue eyes and strong jawline had sparked a flame of attraction in you that you hadn't been able to ignore. 
He knew about your crush, and while he remained professional, there was an undeniable tension that danced between you like the lightning in the tempestuous skies you both loved so much. Tonight was no different, as you pulled into the motel parking lot, exhausted but exhilarated from another successful day of navigating through the volatile dance of nature's fury. 
The lot was a chaotic symphony of chatter and diesel engines, with teams from all over the country sharing tales of the day's conquests and preparing for the night's rest before the next round of adrenaline-fueled chases. Javi turned to you with a knowing grin, "Looks like we're the last ones in again," he said, cutting the engine. "Ready to face the music?" 
You nodded, your heart racing with excitement, unsure if it was the thought of seeing Scott or the impending storms that lay ahead. The cool evening breeze whispered through the open window, carrying with it the faint scent of rain and the promise of a new adventure waiting just beyond the horizon.
Scott had been waiting patiently in the motel lobby, leaning against the counter and shooting the breeze with the front desk clerk, a young girl with a warm smile and a hint of mischief in her eyes. He had been watching the parking lot, anticipating your arrival, his gaze drawn to the approaching headlights of your truck.
As you and Javi entered the lobby, Scott pushed away from the counter, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. His eyes flicked over you, taking in your wind-swept hair and the flush on your cheeks. “Finally decided to join us, huh?”
You brush away the strands of hair that are stuck to your sweaty skin. Sighing as you lean on to Javi’s shoulder, exhausted from the chase. 
“Yeah, had to stop to get some food.” Javi smiles, wrapping an arm around your waist. 
Scott's eyes flicker to Javi's arm around your waist, a hint of irritation in his gaze. He knows there's nothing more than friendship between you and Javi, but the sight of him touching you in such an intimate way stirs a mix of frustration and possessiveness within him.
He leans against the counter again, folding his arms across his chest. “Good thing you remembered to eat. Wouldn’t want you passing out on the road.” His tone is nonchalant, but there's a hint of an edge to it.
“Guys, I’m gonna head upstairs..” you yawn, grabbing your bag from Javi’s hand. As you bid Javi goodnight and start to head towards your room, Scott feigns indifference, pretending to gather his own things. He watches you from the corner of his eye as you make your way down the narrow hall. 
After a few moments, he follows at a safe distance, his footsteps light and his eyes fixed on your back. He waits until you reach your room and unlock the door before he approaches, clearing his throat.
“Oh, Scott.” Your eyes light up as you catch his gaze, a small smile planted on your lips. 
Scott's heart skips a beat as he sees the smile on your face. He tries to play it cool, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the wall next to your door.
"Hey." He says simply, his blue eyes searching your face. "Got a minute?"
“Mhm, come on in.” You open the door for him, going inside and taking a seat on your bed.
Scott follows you into the room, shutting the door softly behind him. He takes a moment to take in his surroundings, his gaze lingering on the way the dim light casts shadows across your features. 
He sits down on the edge of the bed, his knee brushing against your leg. "So, uh, I wanted to talk to you about something."
“Yeah?” You turn to face him, “What’s up?” Your heart skips a beat as you gaze at his face. 
Scott swallows, his throat suddenly feeling dry. He runs a hand through his disheveled hair, trying to compose himself.
"Well, it's just... I've been thinking... about us..." He trails off, his gaze flickering down to where his knee touches yours.
You press your palm to his thigh, shifting closer to him. “Us? What about us?” Your voice is soft and full of vulnerability. 
As your hand brushes against his thigh, Scott's breath hitches in his throat. It's a simple touch, but it sends sparks dancing across his skin.
He turns to look at you, his eyes filled with an intense mix of desire and uncertainty. "I just... Can I be honest with you?"
“Yes, of course.” You murmur. Scott takes a deep breath, his gaze never straying from yours. 
"I've been fighting this for a long time, but I can't deny it anymore. I'm attracted to you. I feel something when I'm around you that I've never felt with anyone else."
He reaches out, his fingers lightly grazing your cheek, the pads of his fingertips tracing the curve of your jawline. "It's driving me crazy."
You smile sweetly as you lean it for a soft kiss. Scott's eyes widen in surprise as you lean in, but he quickly melts into the kiss, his hand moving to cup the back of your head.
His lips are warm against yours, his body tense as he pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. He kisses you deeply, his tongue darting to meet yours, a soft moan escaping his throat.
Scott grips your shorts as he tugs them down your legs, revealing the damp fabric of your underwear clinging to your skin. His eyes rake over you hungrily, drinking in the sight of your bare flesh. You shiver in anticipation, your body responding to his touch as if it had been waiting for this moment all along. 
He kisses you again, his hand slipping beneath the elastic waistband, his fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You gasp into his mouth, your hips arching towards him as he explores higher. The tension between you snaps like a tightly coiled spring, and you find yourself desperately wanting more. 
He seems to understand, his kisses growing more urgent as he helps you out of the rest of your clothes, leaving you exposed and trembling before him. The room feels electric with the storm of emotions brewing inside you, the anticipation of what's to come as potent as the scent of rain in the air outside.
Scott's hands continue to roam over your body, his calloused fingers leaving a trail of fire as he pulls away the last barriers between you. He stands, quickly stripping off his own shirt and pants, his eyes never leaving yours. You watch, your breath hitching, as he reveals the powerful muscles of his chest and the defined lines of his abs, his desire for you evident in the bulge of his boxers. 
With a sense of urgency, he hooks his thumbs under the waistband and slides them down, freeing his erection. It stands proudly between his legs, a testament to his need for you. He moves closer, his bare skin pressing against yours, and you can feel the heat of his arousal as it brushes against your stomach. 
Your own need is palpable, your body aching for the connection you've both been craving. He kisses you again, his tongue delving deep, as he gently guides you back onto the bed, his weight pressing you into the soft mattress. 
With a groan, Scott positions himself between your legs, his hand guiding his erection to your entrance. He teases you, the tip of his cock barely brushing against your wetness, making you squirm and beg for more. 
He smiles, a predatory glint in his eye, before he finally pushes in, inch by inch, filling you up. The sensation is overwhelming, a perfect blend of pain and pleasure that makes you dig your nails into his back. He pauses for a moment, giving you time to adjust to his size, before he starts to move. 
His strokes are slow and deliberate at first, each one sending waves of sensation crashing through your body like the thunder outside. He watches your face, memorizing every twitch and gasp as he moves deeper, his eyes dark with desire. As he starts to pick up the pace, the storm inside you matches the one raging outside, lightning strikes of pleasure firing through your veins with every thrust. 
Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, your bodies moving in a primal dance as old as the tempests you both chase. The sound of the rain on the motel roof is the only music needed as you two lose yourselves in the intensity of the moment.
As your bodies reach their crescendo, the storm outside mirrors the tumultuous passion within the motel room. Your cries of ecstasy meld with the roar of the thunder, and Scott's deep, guttural groans echo through the air as he releases himself inside you. 
The force of your shared climax sends tremors through your limbs, leaving you both panting and gasping for breath. He pulls out slowly, his gaze locked on yours, the connection between you still burning bright. He then collapses beside you, his muscular form sprawling out on the bed, one hand resting on your hip. 
The rain taps a soothing rhythm against the window as you both lay there, entwined in the aftermath of your first intimate encounter. The room is thick with the scent of sweat and sex, a testament to the raw power of your union. 
Scott's eyes never leave yours, a mix of satisfaction and something deeper, something that makes your heart flutter in your chest. You curl into him, your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as the storm outside begins to dissipate. 
As you wake up the next morning, the room bathed in the soft morning sunlight, you reach out to the empty space beside you, the sheets still warm from where Scott had been lying. 
You sit up, the events of the previous night still fresh in your mind, and a pang of disappointment washes over you as you realize he's gone. His clothes are nowhere to be found, the only evidence of his presence being the lingering scent of his cologne on the pillow and the imprint of his body on the mattress.
As you hastily pull your clothes on, the weight of Scott's absence settles heavily on your chest. The room suddenly feels too small, claustrophobic even, and the air seems to thicken around you. 
You can't believe he left without a word, without a note, without any explanation for his actions. Tears threaten to fall, and the lump in your throat feels like it's about to choke you.
You hear a knock on the door, quickly pulling yourself together as you gather your things. When you open the door you see Javi with his warm smile and a cup of coffee. 
“Good morning Javi,” you murmur, voice quiet as you take the drink from his hand. 
Javi studies your face, concern etching his features. "Hey, you alright? You look like you've been through the wringer."
He takes in your red-rimmed eyes, the tightness in your shoulders, and the slight shakiness in your hands.
“Mhm,” you let out a strangled sigh as you leave the room, locking the door behind you. 
Javi falls into step beside you as you make your way down the hall. He glances sideways at you, his forehead creased. 
"You sure you want to head out today?" he asks gently. "You look exhausted."
“Yeah, of course.” You give him a forced smile, “I'm great, just a little tired.” Your eyes fall on Scott’s back as he talks to one of the team members. 
Dread fills your veins as you take in the scene in front of you. Javi follows your gaze, noticing the way you react to the sight of Scott. He shifts awkwardly, his eyes flickering between Scott and you.
"Uh, maybe you should-" he starts to say, but you cut him off abruptly.
“Let’s go get breakfast,” you intertwine your fingers with his as you lead him out the door. 
Javi shoots another glance at Scott, a protective look in his eyes as you pull him outside. The sun is already high in the sky, and it's beginning to warm the air.
He doesn't say anything, simply allowing you to lead the way as he keeps pace beside you. He can sense the tension in your body, the way your hand grips his tightly.
You sit in the passenger side of Javi’s truck, sighing as you relax into the seat, eyes fluttering shut. 
Javi can feel the weight of your tiredness in the way you sit next to him, the way your head rests back against the headrest. He watches you from the corner of his eye as he turns the key in the ignition. 
As the truck comes to life, the engine rumbling underneath you, he speaks quietly. "You don't have to put on a brave face for me, you know." 
Your lip quivers as you turn to look out the window. “Javi..” you sigh, tears building in your eyes. 
Javi's heart clenches in his chest as he hears the shake in your voice, the way it trembles as you say his name. He reaches out, his hand finding yours on the console and squeezes it gently.
"Hey," he murmurs, his voice soft and soothing. "You can talk to me. It's okay." 
“It’s Scott..” you take a deep breath, “uh we slept together and he left like nothing happened.” A tear slips from your eye as you bite your cheek, turning to look at him. 
Javi's eyes widen in surprise, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "What? You slept with Scott?"
He glances over at you, taking in the tears in your eyes, the pain etched into your face. His protective nature kicks in, and he pulls the truck off the road.
“I thought,” you purse your lips, “I thought he felt the same way I did, but I guess it was just him trying to get some.” Your tone gets more irritated the more you speak. 
Javi rubs a hand over his face, clearly frustrated with the situation. "That idiot," he mutters under his breath. He knows Scott has feelings for you, something more than just lust, yet he screwed up his chances with you in the span of one night. 
He looks at you, his eyes soft with concern. "Hey, you know Scott's always been a bit... careless when it comes to relationships."
You nod, taking a deep breath and steeling your expression. “I know, I should’ve known better..” Javi brushes away your tears. 
The day dragged on, each moment feeling heavier than the last as you tried to ignore the storm brewing inside you. You focused on the tasks at hand, the mundane activities of packing up your gear and checking weather reports, all while avoiding Scott's piercing gaze. 
He had retreated to his own space, his eyes dark with regret and confusion. You knew you had to keep your distance; the tension was palpable, a stark contrast to the easy camaraderie you once shared.
Javi, ever the perceptive friend, noticed the shift in your demeanor and the cold shoulder you were giving Scott. He tried to keep the peace, cracking jokes and steering conversations away from the unspoken elephant in the room. His attempts to lighten the mood were met with forced laughter, the tension stretching tauter with each passing hour.
“Let’s go to a bar.” You suggest as Javi starts the engine. “There’s one right next to the motel,” 
Javi raises an eyebrow at your suggestion, a small grin playing at the corner of his lips. "You sure that's a good idea?"
He can sense the need to blow off some steam in your voice, and he knows there's no stopping you now that you've made up your mind.
“It’ll be great,” you smile at him as he pulls out into the street. Scott’s vehicle trails behind you along with the rest of the team. Javi lets them know that you’re going to the bar tonight. 
After a short drive, you arrive at the bar next to the motel. It's a small, dive-bar type establishment, with a neon sign out front that flickers in the evening light. 
As you get out of the car, Scott rolls up on your left, parking his vehicle alongside you. He hops out of his car, he saunters over to you and Javi.
You ignore his presence, grabbing Javi’s hand as you lead him to the entrance. Javi doesn't miss the way you purposefully avoid even looking in Scott's direction, but he decides to play along, keeping his focus solely on you. 
When you reach the door, Javi opens it for you, and the two of you step inside. The bar is dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke. A few patrons are already scattered around, some playing pool, others watching the game on the old television set in the corner.
A few drinks in, Javi leaves to get some fresh air, leaving you alone at the table. Scott comes up to you, his face hardened as he takes a seat next to you, you avoid his gaze. 
Scott sits down heavily in the chair next to you, the sound of his weight hitting the hard wood making you flinch slightly. He leans in, close enough that you can smell the alcohol on his breath. 
"We need to talk," he says gruffly, his voice low.
“Why?” You turn away from him, giving him the cold shoulder. 
Scott scowls at you, his eyes narrowing. "Don’t give me that attitude. We need to talk about what happened."
He grabs your arm, trying to turn you back towards him, but you stubbornly resist. Scott's grip tightens, his fingers biting into your flesh.
You move to pull his hand away, “I don’t feel like talking, Scott.” Your eyes are full of unshed tears as you look at him. 
Scott's expression softens slightly when he sees the look in your eyes, a sense of guilt flickering in his own gaze. He loosens his grip on your arm but doesn’t let go. 
"I know I was a dick, okay," he mutters, looking away. "But that doesn’t change the fact that we clearly need to talk."
“Scott, just leave it alone.” You get out of your seat, walking toward the exit. 
Scott clenches his jaw, annoyed by your stubborn refusal to engage with him. He follows after you, reaching out to grab your wrist. 
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" he asks through gritted teeth. 
“Are you fucking drunk? Leave me alone.” You pull out of his grasp, successfully leaving the bar, Scott still hot on your heels. 
Scott catches up to you just as you exit the bar, the cool night air hitting your face. He wraps his strong arms around your waist, pulling you back against his chest and holding you in place. 
His voice is softer now, the edges of annoyance faded. "Please, just listen to me."
“Scott,” you gasp his name, shocked by his hold on you. “Please stop, please. I don’t want to hear your excuses.”
Scott tightens his grip, pulling you even closer against him. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling the scent of your perfume. 
"It's not an excuse," he murmurs, his warm breath tickling your ear. "I was scared, okay? Scared of what I was feeling." 
You shiver in response, hands moving to pull his arms away. “Scott..” 
Scott resists your attempts to pull away, holding you firmly against him, arms wrapped around your body like a steel trap. 
"Please," he pleads, his voice low and urgent. "Just listen to me. I messed up, okay? I know I did. But I thought-" He stops, taking a deep breath, his words getting caught in his throat.
“Thought what?” You murmur, still pulling at his arms, trying to wiggle away from him.
Scott lets out a frustrated growl, his grip on you tightening even more as he leans down, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck, just below your ear. 
"I thought walking away would make it easier," he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it didn’t. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I left your room this morning."
“You know that’s not fair.” You sigh, stilling your movements as you relax in his arms. 
Scott takes advantage of your pause, pressing his body even closer against you, his muscular frame molding to the curves of your body. 
He nips gently at your neck, a low moan escaping from his throat as he speaks. "I know. I’m an idiot." You gasp at his lips against your skin. 
He runs his hands down your sides, coming to rest on your hips, his fingers gripping the flesh tightly. 
"But I can’t stop thinking about you, about the way your body felt under mine. The way you responded to me, the way you cried out my name-" Scott cuts himself off with another low moan, his breath hot against your skin, the desire in his voice undeniable.
“Scott, I..” you groan, body reacting to his touch. Scott relishes in your response, his hands moving back up to grip your hips, pulling you even closer so that your back is pressed firmly against his chest. 
He kisses your neck, his lips tracing a path up to your earlobe, where he bites down gently. "Say my name again," he husks, his voice gravelly and filled with need.
“Scott, stop it..” you move out of his grasp, head spinning with desire and your stubbornness.
Scott growls at your resistance, and in a quick move, he pins you against the wall of the building, trapping you between the solid brick and his hard body. 
His eyes are darkened with desire, his face mere inches away from yours. "Stop what? Stop touching you? Stop wanting you?" He leans in even closer, his voice a deep, rough whisper. 
“Quit trying to sweet talk me,” you sigh, head leaning against the wall as his lips work against your neck. 
Scott chuckles darkly, his lips curving into a wicked smile as he nips at your skin. "Sweet talk you? I'm not trying to sweet talk you, sweetheart. I'm telling you the truth." 
He moves one of his legs in between yours, effectively trapping you even further. His fingers trail over your skin, leaving a path of fire in their wake.
You push at his chest, “Scott, not here.” He relishes the sight of your eyes, the way they're filled with a mixture of desire and vulnerability, and he can almost feel the fight leaving your body. 
Scott steps back, his chest heaving from the effort it took to resist his own desires. His eyes rake over your body, taking in the way your chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, the way your cheeks are flushed with desire and frustration.
He runs a hand through his tousled hair, his expression apologetic as he meets your gaze. "Please, I need one more chance. I won't screw it up again, I swear."
You lean forward, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. Scott wraps his arms around you once again, pulling you in close. He buries his face in your hair and inhales deeply, relishing in the feeling of having you so close. 
"I won't walk away again," he murmurs, his voice tinged with emotion. "I promise, I'll stay, just give me a chance to prove it to you." You sigh while giving into him. 
“Please don’t leave again..” your arms wrap around his waist loosely. Scott tightens his hold on you, pressing you even closer against him. His heart leaps in his chest at the sound of your voice, the raw vulnerability in your words. 
"Never again," he murmurs, his lips pressing against the top of your head in a tender kiss. "I won't walk away from you. I promise."
You nod against him, body fully relaxing into his. Scott feels the moment you surrender to him, your body softening in his arms, and he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 
He cradles you against him, his hands roaming your back in soothing circles. "I’ve got you," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble against your hair. "I won’t let go."
You lean back, searching his eyes for any deception, seeing none you lean in for a gentle kiss. 
Scott melts under your kiss, his body aching for the taste of your lips. He lets out a soft sigh as he deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth. 
He holds your body against his, his hands roaming over your back and hips, as if he can’t get enough of touching you.
Scott's eyes never leave yours as he takes your hand, leading you back to the motel. The air is thick with unspoken words and the weight of the unresolved tension between you. As you reach his room, he opens the door, his gaze intense and filled with determination. 
He pulls you inside, the door clicking shut behind you, the final barrier between the tumultuous world and the passion that simmers just beneath the surface of your relationship. His arms wrap around you, pulling you tightly against his chest, his heart beating a staccato rhythm that echoes the thunderstorm in your own chest. 
His lips find yours again, the kiss hungry and desperate, as if trying to devour the regret of the morning. His touch is gentle, yet firm, as he helps you shed the layers of your clothing, revealing the soft, welcoming warmth of your skin. 
This time, there's no rush, no racing heartbeats to the crescendo. It's a slow dance of exploration, a silent promise that this isn't just a fleeting moment of passion but the beginning of something much more profound. Rain patters against the window, serenading your reunion, as Scott lays you on the bed, his body hovering over yours, his gaze never straying from your eyes. 
With a groan, Scott rolls onto his back, pulling you along with him so that you're straddling his hips. His eyes are dark with need as he looks up at you, his hands moving to grip your waist, guiding you into position. You lean over him, your breasts brushing against his chest, the heat of your skin melding together as the storm outside reaches its peak. 
He lifts his hips, his erection pressing against your wetness, and you bite your lip, the anticipation of feeling him fill you again making your stomach clench with desire. With a slow, deliberate move, you lower yourself onto him, sheathing him in your warmth. His eyes never leave yours as you start to move, your hips rising and falling in a rhythm that matches the steady beat of the rain on the window. 
Each stroke sends waves of pleasure crashing through you, the intensity building with every movement. The power dynamic has shifted, and now you're in control, dictating the pace, the depth, the very essence of your connection. Scott's hands roam your body, exploring every curve and crevice. 
His eyes glaze over with passion, his breath coming in ragged gasps as you bring him closer to the edge. You lean down, capturing his lips in a fiery kiss, the sound of the rain a constant backdrop to the symphony of your love-making. His hands tighten on your hips, urging you faster, deeper. 
With a moan that's swallowed by his lips, your hips move faster, riding the wave of pleasure that Scott's skilled touch brings forth. Your eyes are locked on his, the intensity in them making you feel exposed, yet safe at the same time. 
The sound of the rain is the only soundtrack to your passion as you move together, your bodies in perfect harmony. And then it hits you—the orgasm that's been building since the moment his lips first touched yours. It crashes over you like a tidal wave, stealing your breath and making your body convulse. 
You cling to him, nails digging into his skin as you ride out the storm of sensation, your pussy squeezing tightly around his cock. Scott groans beneath you, the feeling of your climax pushing him closer to his own. His eyes never leave yours, the blue depths of them filled with a mix of passion and something more, something that makes your heart race even faster. 
As your tremors begin to subside, you collapse onto him, your breaths mingling in the damp air, the rain outside a gentle lullaby to the aftermath of your love-making. And as you lie there, tangled in each other's arms, you know that you've found something that's just as powerful and unpredictable as the forces of nature you both chase—a love that's as wild and uncontrollable as the very storms themselves.
Scott gently slides out of you, turning you on your side so that you're facing away from him. He wraps his arms around you, his chest to your back, and pulls you close, his hand splaying over your stomach as he presses tender kisses to the sensitive skin of your neck. 
His breath is hot against your ear as he whispers sweet nothings, his voice a comforting rumble that soothes the storm that had been raging inside of you. You sigh contentedly, feeling the tension in your body slowly uncoil as his warmth surrounds you, his heartbeat a steady metronome against your own. His hand moves in slow, lazy circles on your stomach, each caress a silent promise of the passion that still burns within him. 
His erection is still firm against your backside, a testament to his desire, but he's in no rush to take you again. Instead, he holds you tightly, his legs entwined with yours, as if afraid that if he lets go, the moment will be lost forever. His touch is tender, almost reverent, as if he's worshiping every inch of your skin. 
You snuggle closer, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the weight of his arm across your waist, a reassuring presence that grounds you amidst the chaos of your swirling emotions. The world outside seems so far away, so insignificant compared to the sanctuary you've found in each other's arms. 
And as the last droplets of rain tap against the window, you drift off to sleep, lulled by the steady beat of Scott's heart and the gentle embrace of his arms, feeling more alive and connected than you ever have before.
You jolt awake, anxiety filling you as you notice the bed empty once again. You sit up in the bed, looking around the room with worry, before noticing Scott coming out of the bathroom. 
Scott notices the panicked look on your face as he slips back into bed next to you. "Hey, relax," he says softly, his hand coming to rest on your back, rubbing gently in small circles. He pulls you in close against him, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you snugly against his chest. "I’m right here. I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart."
You press your cheek to his chest as you cuddle closer, “You scared me…” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut as you bask in his body heat. 
Scott tightens his arms around you, holding you close as he peppers your hair with soft kisses. "I’m sorry," he whispers, his voice filled with regret. "I didn’t mean to scare you." He can feel the tension in your body slowly melting away as you relax against him, and he rubs your back soothingly. "I’m here now. It’s okay."
444 notes · View notes
ofstarsandvibranium · 4 months ago
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Autographs
Fandom: Ted Lasso
Pairing: Jamie Tartt x GN!Reader
Summary: You’re the social media manager for AFC Richmond’s socials. You’ve been seeing a trend of asking players for their autograph so you decided to try it out with your team.
Ted Lasso Masterlist
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You hold your phone up as you peek into the locker room. All of the boys are dressed so you enter with a grin on your face. You keep a stack of papers close to your chest as you quickly head into Coach Beard's office.
"Hey, coach, training doesn't start for another thirty minutes, right?"
Beard checks his watch and nods, "Affirmative."
You nod, "Cool. I'm going to film some content for the socials then," you turn to Roy, starting with you. You press record and hold out a picture to him, "Can I get your autograph, coach?"
"Fucking hell," Roy grumbles as he sees a younger version of himself staring back at him, "Where the fuck did you find this?"
"Did some digging. Love the curls, by the way," you hold out a marker and Roy glares at you. He still scribbles out his name on the photo, handing it back to you, "There. Now fuck off."
You snicker, "Thanks a bunch!"
You exit the office and zero in on your boyfriend, Jamie. You waltz right up to him with giddiness. He smiles up at you as he finishes lacing up his boots. He stands and pecks your lips, "What's with the look, babes?"
You hold out a picture of a small Jamie posing on a pitch, "Can I have your autograph?"
His brows shoot up in surprise, "No fuckin' way. Where'd you find this?"
"I asked your mom to send me a pic of when you were little."
He chuckles, "Look at me. A sexy lil thing, aren't I?" You snort and hand him the marker. He signs his name and draws a heart, writing his initials and yours inside it. He caps the marker and hands it back to you along with the picture, "There ya go, babes."
"I'll cherish it forever."
You look down at your next photo and go up to Sam, who gives you a polite grin, "Good afternoon, Y/N!"
"Hi, Sam! Can I get your autograph?"
"Of course!" you hand him a picture of when he was a young teen and he laughs, "Oh my."
Jamie, who decided to follow you, reaches for the picture, "Aw look at you, Sammy boy!" Jamie shows all the boys Sam's picture and Sam bashfully chuckles.
"Alright, give it here, Jamie!" Sam swipes it back and signs his name. When he gives it back to you, he asks, "Where did you find this picture?"
"I scrolled through your old Facebook photos."
Sam sighs and shakes his head, "I knew I should've deleted those."
The next person you go up to is Colin. He's a small skinny thing, donning his primary school uniform, smiling widely.
Colin looks up at you in disbelief, "Did you reach out to my parents for this?"
You give a nonchalant shrug, "Maybe."
Each interaction with the boys went this way. Each one was surprised to see a picture of a younger version of them being handed to them. The surrounding players hollering and teasing each other for how they looked back then.
Jamie stood beside you the entire time, watching each interaction and just hanging around you. How could he not? He's always drawn to your presence. Not only that, he just adores how well you get along with the guys. You're sweet and funny, which makes it easy for them to say "yes" to whatever kind of video you want to film for the team's socials. You're very good at your job.
After all the photos are signed, you set them out so everyone can see. You stand back, watching the boys mess around with each other. You're already uploading the videos to your dropbox so you can edit them all together on your work computer.
Jamie wraps an arm around your waist and kisses your temple, "Must be nice getting paid to make fun of footballers," he says with a smirk.
You giggle, "So fun! Seriously so glad Keeley hired me on! Probably the most fun I've ever had in any job!"
"Also probably the best job ever since you get to hang around your hot footballer boyfriend too, yeah?" He gives you a playfully nudge.
You snort, turning to completely face him, your arms hooking behind his neck, "Oh absolutely," you lean in to kiss him but Roy steps in, pushing you two away from each other, "Get a room, you disgustingly cute little shits."
You look at each other confused, but then shrugged as Roy yelled, "Whistle! WHISTLE!" The gaggle of football players quiet and you quickly wave at Jamie. You blow a kiss at him and mouth, "I'll see you later."
He blows you a kiss back and waves, earning him a slap on the head from Roy.
"Oi! What the hell, gramps?"
"Pay attention!" Roy grumbles and turns his attention back to the rest of the players, ready to prepare them for today's training.
701 notes · View notes
fangdokja · 17 days ago
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Trust no one. Not even yourself.
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❤︎ Synopsis. In a world where love feels like a cage and loyalty is a loaded weapon, you must navigate the suffocating grip of those who claim to care—because sometimes, the ones who love you most are the ones who break you.
♡ Book. A Heart Devoured (AHD) : A Dark Yandere Anthology
♡ Pairing. Yandere! College! Bully x Fem. Reader
♡ Novella. Torn Between Us - Part 2
♡ Word Count. 12,333
♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, general non-con, possessiveness, psychological manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, psychological and emotional trauma, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances, threats, social isolation, bullying, love bombing, explicit domestic violence and realistic depictions of abuse in the family, mature language, crime, unhealthy coping mechanisms, gaslighting, victim blaming
♡ A/N. It's kind of hilarious that I get comments from "Are you okay?" to "Why do you romanticize sexual abuse in glamorous ways". Yes, in that wording too. The dichotomy of comments. Of course, already putting it out there, I'm not the type of person to chat and waste time in internet arguments. If one doesn't obey RULES, immediate block, no questions asked. It's also to make sure these people don't get bothered by my content that disturbs them. So, it's a win-win. But, to me, it's funny. Like "Wow, thank you. It's so good that it felt so realistic, huh?". That makes me happy. A big turn-off for me as a writer (but I don't mind it when other authors do it) is "inaccurate world building and logic." I get genuinely irritated at myself. It's why when it comes to fandom characters, I make sure it's as accurate as a Yandere character can get. Same goes with anything world building. I like worlds that still have systems and logic involved, even in fantasy settings. And, by default, this also includes, controversies and taboos. Yeah, I talk a lot in these notes. But, honestly? Considering how fast you long form readers go through my work. Might as well chat, since I hardly talk anyway. And, if you read these notes. Thank you. :)) Also, I was supposed to put the NSFW until I realized it was reaching 13k+ words already...
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The first thing you felt was pain.
It wasn’t the kind that built slowly, easing its way into your senses—it was sharp, sudden, and all-consuming. A brutal yank at your scalp wrenched you out of the fragile limbo between consciousness and exhaustion. Your head snapped back, the roots of your hair screaming as you were dragged from the mattress by an iron grip.
You hit the floor hard, the side of your head smacking against the cold tile. The sting of impact shot through your temple, and for a moment, everything blurred—the light filtering through the curtains, the outline of the woman looming above you.
Your mother.
Her face was twisted in rage, but there was something worse in her eyes—a hunger, a satisfaction in your helplessness.
The door clicked shut behind her, sealing the soundproof room in its suffocating silence.
“You really thought you could hide from me?” Her voice was a low, venomous hiss, the kind of quiet that always preceded something worse. “You think I wouldn’t find you, huh? After everything I’ve done for you?”
You stumbled back, your body already trembling with an instinctive fear that seized your lungs and made it impossible to breathe.
“I—I wasn’t hiding—”
“Don’t you lie to me!” Her hand shot out, grabbing the front of your shirt and yanking you forward so violently your head snapped back. Her face was so close to yours you could smell the acrid stench of cigarettes on her breath, could see the bloodshot fury in her eyes.
“You haven’t come home in weeks,” she snarled, her voice trembling with rage. “You think you can just disappear? Just run away? I had to come all the way to this shithole because of you. Do you have any idea how humiliating that is for me?”
She threw you down, and your back slammed into the edge of your desk. Pain radiated up your spine, sharp and paralyzing, but before you could catch your breath, her hand was on you again—this time in your hair, wrenching your head back so hard it felt like your scalp was on fire.
“Answer me, you little leech!” she screamed, shaking you violently. “Do you think I enjoy cleaning up your messes? Huh? Do you think I like chasing you down?”
She yanked you upward by your hair again, dragging you to your knees. Your scalp burned, and a whimper escaped your lips before you could swallow it down.
You whimpered, trying to pull away, but she yanked harder, the tendons in your neck straining painfully as you choked on a sob.
“I don’t have the money,” you gasped, the words spilling out in desperation. “I promise, I—”
The slap came so fast you didn’t even see it, just felt the explosive pain as her palm connected with your cheek. Your head whipped to the side, and the metallic taste of blood filled your mouth.
“Of course you don’t have the money,” she spat, her voice dripping with contempt. “You’ve been too busy playing house here, haven’t you? Hiding away like a pathetic little coward, thinking I wouldn’t notice.”
Her hand released your hair, only to shove you backward. You hit the wall hard, the impact rattling your teeth, and before you could even think about moving, she was on you again.
“Please,” you choked out, your voice hoarse from the lack of sleep. “I—I’ll get the money. I just need more time—”
Another slap came fast, cracking across your cheek with enough force to whip your head to the side. The metallic tang of blood bloomed on your tongue, and your skin prickled with the sting of her hand.
“Time?” she barked, her laugh sharp and bitter. “Time doesn’t pay the fucking bills. Time doesn’t keep a roof over your head, you little parasite!”
Her words struck harder than the blow, each one carefully crafted to cut where it hurt most. You weren’t her child. You weren’t even a person in her eyes. Just a burden. A mistake.
She shoved you backward, and you scrambled to catch yourself, your palms scraping against the rough tile. The small, cramped dorm room felt even smaller, the walls closing in as her shadow loomed over you.
“I raised you,” she hissed, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. “I fed you. Clothed you. And this is how you repay me? By acting like a selfish little bitch? By keeping what’s mine?”
Tears blurred your vision, but you refused to let them fall. Crying would only make it worse.
“I don’t have it,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “I promise, I’ll—”
Her foot connected with your side, and pain exploded in your ribs. You crumpled, clutching your stomach as she kicked you again and again, each blow punctuated by her snarling words.
“You don’t have it? You don’t have it?” she repeated, mocking your desperate tone. “Then what the hell have you been doing all this time? Lying around, feeling sorry for yourself?”
“I had to come all the way here,” she hissed, dragging you across the room and throwing you onto the bed. The back of your head slammed into the wall, and your vision blurred. “Because you’re too much of a coward to face me like a damn adult!”
You tried to sit up, but she was faster, straddling your chest and pinning your arms down with her knees. Her fingers closed around your throat, nails biting into your skin.
“Do you know how embarrassing it is?” she spat, leaning in so close that her spit flecked your face. “Do you know how humiliating it is to have to track down my own child like some fucking runaway dog?”
Your airways constricted, panic surging through you as you choked, your nails scrabbling uselessly at her hands. Her grip was too strong, her weight crushing the breath from your lungs.
Tears streamed down your face, and the corners of your vision darkened.
She released you suddenly, and you gasped, coughing violently as your lungs screamed for air. Before you could recover, she slapped you across the face again—once, twice, three times. Each strike was sharp and deliberate, her rings tearing into your skin.
“You’ve been hiding at this university,” she said, her voice cold and measured now, as if she were recounting a list of your crimes. “Pretending you’re some poor little victim. Do you think anyone here gives a shit about you except me?”
Her hand closed around your arm, nails digging into the soft flesh as she yanked you off the bed and threw you to the floor. You landed hard on your knees, pain shooting up your legs.
“Answer me!” she screamed, her booted foot colliding with your ribs.
The impact sent you sprawling, the air rushing from your lungs. You tried to crawl away, but her foot came down on your back, pressing you into the cold tile.
“You think you’re so clever,” she continued, her voice rising. “Hiding here, avoiding your responsibilities, avoiding me. But I know you, baby. I know every little secret, every little lie.”
She grabbed the back of your head, slamming your face into the floor. Blood spattered across the tile, warm and sticky as it seeped from your nose and split lip.
“You owe me,” she hissed, crouching beside you and grabbing your jaw, forcing you to look at her. Her nails dug into your cheeks, her breath hot and foul against your skin.
“Do you understand?” she said, shaking you violently. “You owe me. I don’t care if you have to steal, cheat, or whore yourself out—you will get me that money. Do you hear me?”
Your voice cracked as you sobbed, nodding frantically. “Y-Yes—”
The next slap sent your head snapping to the side.
“Louder,” she demanded.
“Yes!” you cried, your voice breaking. “I’ll do it! I’ll get the money!”
———
The hand in your hair yanked with ferocious strength, pulling at your scalp until the roots screamed in agony. Your head snapped back, the sharp crack of vertebrae forced into an unnatural angle resonating in your ears. Before you could cry out, a fist collided with your cheekbone, the impact sending shockwaves through your skull. Your vision blurred with stars, and the coppery tang of blood filled your mouth as your lip split open.
Her voice was low and cold, slicing through the air like a blade. “You thought you could hide from me, didn’t you?” A sharp tug on your hair wrenched a pained gasp from your throat. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused me?”
You tried to stammer out a response, but her fist collided with your cheek, the force sending you sprawling. “Shut up!” she hissed, towering over your trembling form. “Do you think I’m stupid? Running off to your little school, acting like you’re too good to come home.”
Your body was dragged across the floor like a rag doll, the rough texture of the tile scraping the skin from your knees and elbows. A boot slammed into your stomach with brutal force, driving the air from your lungs. The sensation was hollow, a sickening vacuum where breath should have been, your diaphragm spasming as you choked on nothing.
A boot slammed into your ribs, the sickening crunch of bone making your breath hitch. “You don’t even deserve this education. What have you done to earn it? Nothing!” Another kick landed against your stomach, and you doubled over, clutching yourself as the air left your lungs.
“Do you know what I’ve sacrificed for you?” Her voice rose, venom dripping from every word. “All the things I could’ve had if it weren’t for you? And you have the nerve to ignore me, to avoid your responsibilities?”
Before you could even attempt to rise, another kick landed squarely against your ribs, the crack unmistakable this time. A sharp, jagged pain bloomed in your chest, each shallow gasp of air accompanied by the fiery agony of bone grinding against bone. You curled in on yourself instinctively, arms shielding your head, but it offered no protection.
A hard-soled shoe came down against your forearm, the force bending it at an unnatural angle. A white-hot flash of pain exploded in your vision, your own muffled scream echoing in your ears as the limb gave way. You clutched it to your chest, trembling, only to feel fingers clawing at your shoulders, wrenching you upright.
You whimpered, curling into yourself, but she wasn’t done. She grabbed your arm, twisting it cruelly as you yelped in pain. “Look at me when I’m talking to you!” She dragged you upright, slamming you against the wall. Your head hit the plaster with a dull thud. “You think I’m blind? You think I don’t know about the money you owe me? About the favors you’re dodging?”
Her nails dug into your shoulders as she leaned in, her breath hot and acrid against your face. “I should’ve left you to rot,” she snarled. “Ungrateful little bitch.”
The shove against the wall was unrelenting, the back of your skull slamming into the unforgiving surface with enough force to make the plaster crack behind you. Your head swam, the room spinning violently as nausea roiled in your stomach. Her nails raked down your arm, leaving red welts in their wake, and the dull thud of another punch to your abdomen left your knees buckling beneath you.
She didn’t let you fall.
Your body was dragged upright again, only to be shoved forward. You crashed onto the floor, your face bouncing off the tiles. The sharp edge of your jaw hit first, sending another sharp stab of pain radiating through your skull. You tasted more blood, hot and metallic, as it spilled from your mouth, pooling beneath your chin.
You flinched as she slapped you across the face, the sting blooming into a sharp, fiery pain. “Do you think the world cares about you? Do you think anyone at that school will protect you when I’m done?”
You tried to pull away, desperation overtaking your fear. “Please, I—”
“Please?” She mocked your voice with a cruel sneer. “Please, please, please,” she repeated, punctuating each word with a punch to your side. “That’s all you ever do. Begging like a worthless rat.”
She pressed you to the ground, her foot pressing into the small of your back. “Get up,” she spat. When you didn’t move fast enough, she grabbed your hair again, yanking you upright. “I said get up!”
You sobbed, choking on the blood pooling in your mouth. “I’ll get the money, I promise. Just give me time—”
“Time?” she interrupted, laughing bitterly. “Time is for people who deserve it. You think you’re entitled to my patience?” She slammed your head down against the floor, the impact making you see stars. “You’re nothing but a burden. And I’ll make sure you never forget it.”
A foot pressed onto the small of your back, grinding down with her full weight. The force flattened you against the floor, your bruised ribs screaming in protest as you struggled for breath. The heel twisted, grinding into your flesh, and you bit down on your own lip to keep from screaming, the already tender flesh splitting further.
Your good arm instinctively reached out to crawl, but she stepped on your hand with calculated precision, the heel of her shoe crushing your knuckles into the hard tile. The popping sensation was sickening, each joint folding under the pressure, and the pain was enough to make your vision go black for a moment.
Her grip returned to your hair, yanking your head up and slamming it down once more. The impact jarred your entire body, the sound of your skull cracking against the floor echoing in the small room. Blood smeared the surface where your face had been, a sickening trail that blurred with your tears.
There was no reprieve. No pause between strikes. Each hit, each blow, felt calculated—designed to hurt, to maim, to leave a mark that would ache for days, weeks. Your body was a canvas for her violence, every bruise and laceration a testament to her fury.
The world faded in and out, each moment marked by a new wave of pain. When her hands finally released you, your body crumpled onto the cold, blood-slick tiles. Every breath was a struggle, every twitch of your limbs a reminder of the damage inflicted.
The room was silent now, save for the ragged sound of your own breathing and the steady drip of blood hitting the floor.
———
After a while, the barrage stopped, and you dared to glance up, only to find her crouched in front of you. Her face was close—too close—and her breath reeked of stale alcohol and cigarettes.
Her voice softened suddenly, a terrifying shift that sent chills down your spine. “You’re lucky I haven’t thrown you out yet,” she murmured, crouching down to meet your tearful gaze. “But keep this up, and you’ll find yourself with nowhere to go. Understand?”
You nodded weakly, trembling beneath her cold, predatory stare. She patted your cheek almost mockingly, smearing your blood across your face. “Good girl,” she said, her tone dripping with malice. “Now clean this mess up. I don’t want to see a single drop of blood when I get back.”
Her voice mellowed, sickly sweet, as she reached out to cup your bruised cheek.
“Oh, baby,” she cooed, her tone dripping with soft tenderness. “You know I don’t want to hurt you. But you make me do this. You make me.”
You flinched as her thumb brushed over your split lip, and her smile widened.
“Don’t cry,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t make me feel bad, okay? You’re such a good girl, aren’t you? You’ll fix this. You’ll find a way to make it right.”
Her other hand clamped down on your shoulder, nails biting into your skin.
“You will, won’t you?” she pressed, her voice hardening just enough to make it clear that this wasn’t a question.
You nodded, the motion jerky and desperate. Anything to make it stop.
Her smile returned, and she stood, brushing her hands off as if you were nothing more than dirt she’d stepped in.
“That’s my girl,” she said, turning toward the door. “Don’t disappoint me again.”
She didn’t slam the door when she left. She didn’t have to. The sound of her calm, measured footsteps receding down the hall was worse than any explosion of anger. It meant she was satisfied—for now.
You lay there on the floor, the silence in the room broken only by your ragged breathing. Your body ached, your chest heaving as you struggled to hold back the sobs clawing their way up your throat.
The phone on your desk buzzed once, the sound like a gunshot in the quiet. You didn’t need to look to know it was another message. Probably him. The bully. Or maybe someone else who wanted to mess with you.
It didn’t matter.
You were the weak link, and everyone knew it.
────────────
The lie came easily—too easily. It dripped from your lips like oil, slick and poisonous, just like the makeup covering your face, as you stared at Domo’s face on the screen. “She’s been gone for so long, you know? And she just… wants to spend time with me.” You hated yourself for the waver in your voice, the hesitance that made it sound true. Domo smiled, her usual warmth softening her features. “Of course. Family comes first. We can always reschedule.”
Her kindness twisted the knife in your chest, but you nodded anyway. “Thanks. I’ll text you.” And then you ended the call before you could hear more, before her care could claw any deeper into the fragile parts of you that you were barely holding together.
The truth? There was no family bonding. No heartfelt reunion. Just you, sitting alone in your dorm as the hours stretched long and suffocating. You stared at the laptop glowing before you, the dim blue light washing over your battered face. The bruises on your cheek and ribs throbbed in unison with your pulse, each beat a reminder of what waited if you didn’t produce the money fast enough.
You clenched your teeth, flexing your fingers before placing them on the keyboard. This was the part of yourself you never wanted anyone to see. The part you shoved into the shadows because it didn’t fit the quiet, awkward nothingness that defined you.
But it was the only thing you had.
The screen filled with lines of code, flashing in rapid succession as your fingers moved. You had always been good at this—too good. The exhilaration of bending firewalls to your will, of slipping through systems unnoticed, had once been a guilty thrill. Now, it was a survival mechanism.
You rationalized it as you worked, forcing the bile down in your throat. It’s not like I’m hurting anyone. This isn’t stealing. It’s… repurposing. The rationalizations tumbled over themselves like dominoes, each lie shoring up the fragile structure of your conscience. You weren’t hacking major accounts or wiping people out. Just skimming from places that wouldn’t notice a few hundred dollars gone. Universities, minor corporate accounts, underused funds in bloated systems.
The screen flickered, the transfer confirmed. You leaned back, chest heaving as though you’d run a marathon. Two hundred dollars here, fifty there. It wasn’t much, but it would add up. It had to.
You glanced at the clock: 3:42 a.m. Only a few more hours until she comes back. The thought sent a fresh spike of panic through you, and you dove back in. Another account. Another breach. Every keystroke felt like a confession, a sin piling atop an already crumbling foundation.
This wasn’t the first time you’d done it. The bruises lining your arms and the faint scar under your lip reminded you of how long this had been your reality. She leaves. You buy time. She comes back. You pay her off. A cycle that never ended, no matter how desperately you wished it would.
When the hacking was done, you stared at the balances displayed on the screen. Enough. For now. Your head thudded against the back of the chair, exhaustion wrapping around you like chains. The room was cold, empty, suffocating in its silence. You wanted to cry, to scream, to do anything to break the hollow ache gnawing at your chest.
But instead, you pushed yourself up, ignoring the sharp pain radiating from your side. You shuffled to the window, pulling the curtain back just enough to peer out into the quiet campus. The streetlights cast long, eerie shadows across the pavement, and for a moment, you swore you saw movement. A flicker of something—someone—watching.
You yanked the curtain shut, heart pounding in your chest. Just your imagination. Nothing’s there. You repeated the words like a mantra, though the uneasy weight of a presence lingered, settling into the corners of your mind.
When morning came, you’d transfer the money to her. When she left, you’d breathe again—for a little while. But tonight, you had no time to think about Domo, or bullies, or the terrifying fragility of the life you’d cobbled together.
Tonight, survival was all that mattered.
────────────
The air in the dorm room felt heavier, as if the walls themselves anticipated her arrival. You’d barely slept, the dark circles under your eyes deep enough to make your hollow face look corpse-like. The money was ready, stacked in an envelope on the small table near the door. A meager offering to stave off her wrath.
It’s enough this time, isn’t it? It has to be.
When the knock came, sharp and deliberate, your stomach twisted into knots. The sound echoed through your chest, each rap like a nail driven into your ribcage. You didn’t hesitate. Hesitation would only make things worse.
Opening the door, you saw her—your mother, standing tall in the hallway, her tailored coat spotless, her hair perfectly styled. She looked out of place in the dingy dormitory, like a predator descending on prey. Her painted lips curved into a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. It never did.
“Sweetheart,” she greeted, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. The smell of her expensive perfume suffocated the room. “I was wondering if you’d forgotten about me. You’re cutting it close this time.”
“I-I have it,” you stammered, pointing to the envelope. She clicked her tongue, her heels sharp against the floor as she approached the table.
Picking up the envelope, she weighed it in her hand like a predator inspecting its meal. “All of it?” she asked, her voice dripping with faux sweetness.
“Yes. I promise.”
Her nails were painted crimson, as though dipped in fresh blood, and they grazed the edge of the envelope as she opened it. Her eyes scanned the money, the movements slow and deliberate. “Hmm. This isn’t as much as I expected.”
“It’s everything I could—”
The slap came so fast, so sudden, you barely registered the sting on your cheek until you were stumbling back, your head snapping to the side. Her handprint burned into your skin, but you didn’t dare cry out.
Her voice was cold, the venom behind it more terrifying than her strike. “You think this is enough? Do you think I go through all this trouble for crumbs?”
“I—I can get more!” you blurted, your chest heaving as panic clawed at your throat. “Just give me a little more time!”
She closed the envelope, tucking it into her purse with an air of calm so calculated it made your blood run cold. Then, without warning, her hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of your hair.
You screamed, but the sound barely escaped before she yanked you down, dragging you toward the center of the room. Pain exploded across your scalp, blinding and raw.
“Do you think I have time for your excuses?” she hissed, her grip tightening. “You’ve always been pathetic. Always needing someone to clean up your messes.”
Her knee collided with your stomach, and the air rushed from your lungs in a broken wheeze. She released your hair, letting you crumple to the floor like a discarded rag doll.
“I should’ve known you’d be useless.” Her voice was low, deliberate, and each word sliced through you like a scalpel. “It’s embarrassing, really. How you can’t even manage something as simple as this.”
You tried to push yourself up, but her foot slammed down on your back, forcing you flat against the floor. “Stay down,” she ordered. “You’re exactly where you belong.”
Tears burned at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back. Crying would only make it worse.
“Do you know how humiliating it is for me to come here?” she continued, pressing harder until your ribs screamed in protest. “To see the pathetic little hole you’ve buried yourself in? You’re lucky I even bother with you.”
She released you, and you gasped, curling into yourself on the cold floor. Her heels clicked as she walked to the door, her purse swinging at her side.
“Don’t make me come back for this again,” she warned, her tone sickeningly sweet once more. “You wouldn’t like what happens if I do.”
The door slammed shut behind her, leaving you alone in the suffocating silence. You didn’t move for a long time, your body trembling with the aftermath of pain and fear. The room was dark now, the only light coming from the faint glow of your laptop.
You stared at it, the temptation gnawing at the edges of your mind.
Just one more time. I’ll take a little more. I’ll make it back somehow.
It was the only way to survive.
────────────
The room was dimly lit by the pale glow of your computer screen, the soft hum of the CPU your only companion through the relentless hours. Your fingers ached, stiff from the endless tapping and coding, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins kept you moving. You’d done it. After days of sleepless nights, tense calculations, and hacking sessions that pushed the boundaries of legality, the number on the screen made your chest swell with something foreign: triumph.
It was the largest sum you’d ever seen in your life. Enough to keep your mother at bay for a long time, maybe even the rest of the year if you played it smart.
You leaned back in your chair, your head lolling against the worn cushion. Exhaustion clawed at you, but a smile—real, genuine—curved your lips. For once, there was no immediate shadow of fear, no sharp pang of dread in your stomach. You felt... safe.
Your gaze drifted to the photo frame sitting on the cluttered desk, the only piece of decoration in your otherwise bleak dorm. It was your high school graduation photo. Your father, with his immaculate suit and confident smile, stood tall beside your mother, who clung to his arm, her makeup flawless, her pride radiating through the glass. And there you were, sandwiched between them, holding your diploma with trembling hands.
Back then, you thought things would stay like that forever. A perfect picture. A perfect family.
Your smile faltered as your eyes lingered on your mother’s face in the photo. She looked happy then—truly happy. Not the brittle, strained version of her that had emerged after your father’s departure. The moment he left, everything broke.
You closed your eyes, memories creeping in like unwelcome guests. The screaming matches, the shattered glass, her tear-streaked face twisted in anguish as she begged him to stay. And then the silence, the unbearable silence that followed his departure, her love curdling into something sharp and possessive, clinging to you like a drowning woman to a lifeline.
“She only has me,” you whispered to yourself, your voice trembling in the quiet room. The words felt like a mantra, a justification for everything you endured. “She needs me.”
The screen in front of you flickered as you finalized the transfer. The money was secure, broken into portions just as you’d planned. You wouldn’t give it to her all at once—that would only end in disaster. No, you’d ration it out, let it trickle through her fingers slowly. Enough to keep her satisfied, to keep her from asking questions, from demanding more.
A wave of relief washed over you. For the first time in what felt like forever, you were ahead of the game. You could breathe.
The thought of handing over the first envelope filled you with a strange kind of hope. Maybe this time, she’d smile like she did in the photo. Maybe she’d thank you, even hug you. Maybe, just maybe, things could go back to the way they were.
You stood, stretching your aching limbs, and crossed the room to the mirror. Your reflection stared back, hollow-eyed and pale, but there was a spark of pride in your gaze. You’d done something good—for her, for yourself. It wasn’t legal, no, but it was necessary.
Your fingers brushed against the photo frame as you returned to the desk, the cold glass grounding you. No matter how much she hurt you, no matter how much fear she instilled, you still loved her. She was your mother.
And you’d do anything to keep her happy.
———
The knock on the door was soft, almost tentative, but it still sent a jolt of adrenaline through your system. You clutched the envelope tightly in your hand, its weight heavier than the sum it carried. This was it. You smoothed your hair, tried to compose yourself, and opened the door.
She stood there, a vision of maternal grace, her sharp edges carefully filed away. Her lips curled into a warm smile, one that lit her face in a way you hadn’t seen in years. For a moment, she looked just like the mother in the graduation photo—loving, proud, whole.
“There you are, sweetheart,” she said, stepping inside and brushing a hand over your hair. Her touch was light, affectionate, as if the hands that had dragged you out of bed days ago had never known violence.
You swallowed hard, your throat dry. “Hi, Mom.”
Her eyes flicked to the envelope in your hand, but she didn’t reach for it. Not yet. Instead, she guided you to the small couch in your dorm room and sat down beside you, her perfume a familiar cloud of roses and nostalgia.
“You’ve been working so hard,” she said, her voice tender. “I’ve been so worried about you. You look tired, baby.” Her hand cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing against the dark circles under your eyes. “Have you been eating enough? Sleeping?”
You nodded, unsure of what else to do. The words caught in your throat, tangled in the weight of her presence.
“I brought your favorite,” she said, producing a neatly packed box from her bag. Inside were homemade cookies, perfectly golden, still warm as if she’d baked them just for you. She broke one in half and held it to your lips, her eyes soft with an affection that made your chest ache. “Here, eat. You need your strength.”
You bit into the cookie, its sweetness almost overwhelming. She watched you with such intensity, as though every crumb you swallowed was a testament to your gratitude, your obedience.
Finally, you held out the envelope. “I—uh—I managed to save some money,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “For you.”
Her eyes widened, shimmering with what looked like genuine pride. She took the envelope delicately, as though it were a fragile gift. Opening it, she flipped through the bills, her expression melting into something softer, more radiant.
“Oh, my sweet girl,” she breathed, pulling you into a sudden, crushing hug. “You’re so good to me. I don’t deserve you.”
Her words were honeyed, dripping with adoration, and yet they stung. You closed your eyes, leaning into her embrace, the warmth of her body erasing the bruises she’d left days before.
“I’m so proud of you,” she murmured, her hand stroking your hair. “You’re all I have, you know that? Just you and me against the world.”
Her grip tightened, just for a moment, but then she pulled back, holding your face in her hands. “Promise me you’ll always take care of yourself, for me. I couldn’t bear to lose you.”
The tears in her eyes looked so real, so heartbreakingly sincere, that for a moment, you believed her. You wanted to believe her.
“I promise,” you said, the words feeling like a chain coiling tighter around your chest.
“Good girl.” She kissed your forehead, a gesture so tender it left you dizzy. “I love you, you know that?”
You nodded, your throat burning with unspoken words.
The rest of the evening passed in a surreal haze of domestic bliss. She stayed for hours, tidying your dorm, chatting about mundane things, laughing at old memories as though nothing had ever been wrong. It felt like stepping back in time, to when your world was still intact, when her love wasn’t a weapon but a shield.
And yet, beneath the surface, something gnawed at you. A shadow of doubt, a whisper of fear. Because you knew—deep down—that this wasn’t love. It was something darker, something that wrapped itself around your heart and squeezed until you couldn’t breathe.
But for tonight, you let it happen. You let her smile and laugh and hold you close. You let yourself believe, just for a little while, that everything could be okay.
———
The sharp scent of antiseptic filled the air, a biting reminder of the wounds she was carefully tending. Her touch was impossibly gentle, almost reverent, as though the same hands hadn’t carved those injuries into your skin just hours ago. She hummed softly, a melody you vaguely recognized from childhood, her voice smooth and warm like a lullaby meant to soothe your fears.
“Hold still, sweetheart,” she murmured, her fingers brushing your cheek as she dabbed at a cut near your temple. “This might sting a little.”
It did. The pain flared, bright and hot, but her other hand stroked your hair, grounding you in the surreal tenderness of the moment.
“You’ve always been so brave,” she said, her eyes meeting yours with a depth of sincerity that made your stomach churn. “Taking everything life throws at you with your head held high. I don’t know how you do it, baby.”
Her smile was soft, motherly, and the juxtaposition of her words against the still-healing bruises on your arms made your throat tighten.
She leaned closer, inspecting her work, her breath warm against your skin. “There. Good as new,” she said, sitting back with a satisfied sigh. Her hand lingered on your shoulder, squeezing gently. “You really scared me, you know. You’ve been so distant lately.”
“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, your voice hoarse and small.
She tilted her head, her expression shifting to one of exaggerated concern. “Oh, sweetheart, no. You don’t need to apologize. You’ve just… been through so much, haven’t you?” Her hand moved to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing against your skin with an intimacy that felt suffocating.
“I’ve been so hard on you,” she continued, her voice trembling slightly as though she might cry. “I hate seeing you like this, so beaten down. You deserve so much better.”
Your chest tightened, a knot of confusion and unease tangling with the faint, desperate hope that this time—this time—she meant it.
“Let me take care of you,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re my baby, my whole world. I just want to see you happy.”
She stood and moved to the kitchen, her movements fluid, almost cheerful. “You must be starving,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll make your favorite. Just sit there and relax, okay? You need to rest.”
Her back was to you now, and for a moment, you could almost pretend this was normal. The hum of the stove, the faint sizzle as she prepared the food—it all felt so mundane, so safe.
But the memory of her voice—razor-sharp and dripping with venom—echoed in the back of your mind.
"Don’t make me come back here for nothing, you useless little brat."
You shook your head, trying to dispel the thought. She was different now. She was kind. Loving. She hadn’t been like this in years, not since before everything fell apart.
The meal she placed before you was perfect, a careful recreation of a childhood favorite. She watched you with expectant eyes as you took the first bite, her smile widening when you nodded in approval.
“See? Mommy knows what you need,” she said, sitting beside you and placing a hand on your knee. “We’ll be okay, won’t we? As long as we have each other.”
You forced a smile, the words catching in your throat.
The warmth of her affection was almost worse than her anger. It wrapped around you like a blanket, smothering you under the weight of its expectations. But you couldn’t pull away. You couldn’t risk breaking this fragile illusion, not when the alternative was so much worse.
So you nodded, swallowing down the fear and confusion and guilt. “Yeah. We’ll be okay.”
Her smile softened, and for a moment, you could almost believe it.
────────────
The halls were quiet, the chaotic din of the usual school day replaced by an unusual calm. It was as though the entire campus had been wrapped in a fragile layer of peace, everyone too preoccupied with the looming end-of-year celebrations to pay you any mind. You walked alone, the fluorescent lights overhead flickering faintly, your shadow stretching and shrinking against the scuffed linoleum floor.
For the first time in what felt like ages, your chest felt lighter. The suffocating weight of constant vigilance had lifted, even if only for a moment. Domo was away, too busy with her responsibilities to hover protectively over you, but her absence didn’t feel like a loss. It felt like freedom.
You passed clusters of students bustling about, their faces flushed with excitement and stress as they carried props and decorations for the Christmas program. No one spared you a glance, not even the cliques that usually whispered behind your back or the bullies who made a sport of finding new ways to humiliate you. They were too wrapped up in their own lives, their own dramas.
The solitude was soothing.
Your lips curled into a faint smile as you stepped out into the courtyard. The winter air was crisp, biting gently at your cheeks and nose. The skeletal trees stood silent, their barren branches reaching towards the pale gray sky. You sat on one of the cold metal benches, pulling your coat tighter around you, and watched the world move on without you.
It was better this way.
The distant sound of carols drifted through the air, mingling with the faint chatter of students. You allowed yourself a moment to close your eyes and soak it in—the peace, the simplicity. No shouting. No biting words. No stifling fear clawing at your throat.
For the first time in months, you felt something like happiness. At least for a while.
———
The air was crisp and still as you crept through the dimly lit campus grounds, the cold biting at your exposed skin. Every step felt heavier than the last, your stomach knotting tighter with each reluctant movement. The text from him sat unread but seared into your mind, its bluntness coiled around your thoughts like barbed wire: "My dorm. Tonight. Don’t make me wait."
It wasn’t the first time. His demands always came with the same suffocating inevitability, a choice between the humiliations he’d orchestrate and the unspeakable consequences of defying him.
You kept your head low, your heart pounding as you slipped into the shadows, avoiding the few lingering students rushing to finish end-of-year preparations. The warmth of the day had been fleeting—Domo’s absence notwithstanding. You’d almost dared to hope the universe might grant you a reprieve. But he’d reminded you, as always, that peace wasn’t for people like you.
His dorm building loomed ahead, its sharp, modern edges cutting against the pale moonlight. Your fingers trembled as you reached for the door, the sterile chill of the metal handle grounding you in the moment. Inside, the fluorescent lighting buzzed faintly, the hallways deserted and eerily quiet.
Room 312. You knew it by heart. You had never asked to learn this intimately, but circumstance—and his persistence—left you with little choice.
The door was ajar when you arrived, as though he’d been expecting you.
“Come in,” his voice called, low and casual, from somewhere inside. It grated against your nerves, setting off alarm bells in the recesses of your mind.
You stepped inside, the warmth of his room almost suffocating after the cold outside. He was seated at his desk, leaning back lazily in his chair, his posture deceptively relaxed. His gaze met yours, sharp and assessing, and the faint smirk playing at his lips sent a chill down your spine.
“Right on time,” he drawled, gesturing for you to close the door. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me.”
You said nothing, your throat dry as you complied.
The tension in the room was palpable as he stood, his movements unhurried, his towering presence swallowing the space between you. “You’ve been quiet lately,” he remarked, his tone light but laced with something darker. “Almost like you thought you could avoid me.”
“I wasn’t—” you began, your voice shaky, but he silenced you with a sharp laugh.
“Save it,” he said, stepping closer until you could feel the oppressive heat radiating off him. “I don’t care what excuses you’ve been telling yourself. You’re here now, aren’t you?”
His hand shot out, gripping your chin with bruising force as he tilted your face upward. His expression was unreadable, his eyes scanning you like you were something to be dissected. “You look happy,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “What’s got you in such a good mood, huh?”
The question was rhetorical, his fingers tightening painfully as he leaned in closer. “You know,” he murmured, his breath ghosting against your cheek, “I don’t like it when you forget your place.”
You swallowed hard, the fear clawing its way up your throat as his grip shifted to your shoulder, shoving you backward until your legs hit the edge of the bed.
“Sit,” he commanded, and you obeyed, your limbs stiff and trembling.
He loomed over you, his shadow stretching long and menacing under the harsh light. “We’re going to play a little game,” he said, a cruel glint in his eyes. “You’re going to listen very carefully, and if you’re good—well, let’s see if you remember what happens when you’re not.”
The words hung in the air like a noose tightening around your neck. You didn’t dare look away, didn’t dare breathe too loudly, as his gaze pinned you in place.
And just like that, the fleeting warmth of the day was gone, replaced by the cold, unyielding reality you couldn’t escape.
———
He leaned against the desk in his dorm, his expression dripping with smug satisfaction, as if he had already won a game you didn’t even realize you were playing. His phone rested in his hand, the glow from the screen casting shadows on his face.
“You’re really something, you know that?” he began, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. His tone was light, almost amused, but there was an unmistakable edge beneath it. “All this time, I thought you were just pathetic. Turns out, you’re also a little criminal. Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, huh?”
Your stomach dropped, your breath hitching as his words sank in. He chuckled darkly at your reaction, pushing off the desk and stepping closer, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey.
“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” he sneered, tilting his head as he studied your wide-eyed panic. “Oh, don’t look so surprised. Did you really think I wouldn’t find out? That you could just go around doing… that and no one would notice?”
He held up his phone, the screen flashing with what could only be described as evidence—screenshots, transaction logs, even security footage. Your heart pounded in your chest, a sickening rhythm that drowned out everything else.
“You’re so damn stupid,” he said, shaking his head with mock disappointment. “Leaving a digital trail like that? Rookie mistake. But I guess I shouldn’t expect too much from someone like you. After all, you’ve never been anything but a useless, desperate little nothing, right?”
The insult stung, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond. His grin widened at your silence, his enjoyment of your fear palpable.
“Let me spell it out for you,” he said, stepping even closer until you were forced to back up against the wall. “I’ve got everything I need to ruin you. Everything. Those little stunts you pulled to get your precious mommy her money? Yeah, I’ve got it all. And trust me, it’s enough to get you expelled, arrested… maybe even worse.”
You shook your head frantically, your voice trembling as you tried to protest. “I-I didn’t mean—”
“Oh, save it,” he snapped, cutting you off with a wave of his hand. “I don’t give a shit about your sob story. You think anyone else will? You’re nothing, sweetheart. Just a sad little loser with nowhere to go and no one to turn to.”
The tears burned at the corners of your eyes, frustration from everything welling up as if ready to pour out; but you blinked them back, unwilling to give him the satisfaction. He noticed, of course, and his smirk turned cruel.
“Aw, don’t cry,” he mocked, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “You wouldn’t want Mommy Dearest to find out, would you? Imagine how disappointed she’d be. Or worse—imagine what she’d do if she found out her little cash cow has been hiding things from her.”
His words were a dagger to your chest, twisting with every syllable. He knew exactly where to strike, exactly how to exploit your deepest fears and vulnerabilities.
“But don’t worry,” he continued, his tone softening into something almost sweet. “I’m not a monster. I’m willing to keep this between us… for a price.”
You swallowed hard, your throat dry and tight. “W-What do you want?”
His grin widened, his eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. “Oh, nothing too crazy,” he said, leaning in until his face was inches from yours. “Just a little obedience. A little gratitude. Maybe even a little fun. After all, we’ve got such a good thing going, don’t we?”
His hand reached up to cup your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Or, you can try to run. Try to fight. But let’s be real—you don’t have the guts. You’ve never had the guts. So why don’t you just be a good little slave and play along? It’ll be so much easier for both of us.”
You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. His words wrapped around you like a noose, tightening with every passing second. There was no escape, no way out. He had you, and he knew it.
———
The air in the room felt oppressive, suffocating, as his words dripped into your ears like poison. His grin was wide, vicious, a predator toying with its prey, knowing there was no escape. He perched on the edge of the bed, his presence overwhelming even as he leaned in casually, as though you were equals in this twisted game.
“You really think she doesn’t know?” he murmured, his voice a low, mocking purr. His eyes glittered with malice, reflecting your panic like a mirror. “Domo. Your precious, perfect Domo. She’s not stupid, you know. I mean, come on, you’ve been sloppy, haven’t you? Or did you think you could actually hide all this?”
You flinched at his words, the knot of anxiety in your chest tightening. You had been careful. Meticulous, even. But now, doubt began to claw its way into your mind. His smirk widened at the flicker of uncertainty in your eyes.
“That’s the thing about people like her,” he continued, his tone almost conversational. “She’s got this shiny, righteous exterior. Strong sense of justice, doesn’t she? Loves tearing people like you apart. The frauds, the liars, the criminals. Do you even know what she’d do if she found out?”
Your stomach churned. You’d seen it yourself—how Domo could rip someone’s reputation to shreds with a single exposé, how her ruthless sense of morality left no room for gray areas. And you, with your secrets, your crimes…
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The first time you saw Domo’s sense of justice in action, it left a deep impression—one that you didn’t know whether to admire or fear. It was a cold, rainy afternoon, the kind where the sky seemed to weep with an intensity that felt personal. Most students had already gone home, but you stayed late in the library, hunched over a stack of outdated textbooks you couldn’t afford to replace.
That was when you heard it—low, vicious laughter echoing from the stairwell. Curious, you crept closer, peeking from behind a bookshelf.
There she was. Domo.
And in front of her, trembling like a trapped animal, was a senior. He was taller, broader, someone who carried himself like he owned the place—until that moment. His usual cocky smirk was gone, replaced by a look of sheer panic.
“I didn’t mean for it to go that far!” he stammered, his hands raised as if to shield himself from her words. “I was just messing around—”
“Messing around?” Domo’s voice was calm, almost too calm. It carried no heat, no anger, only an icy precision that made your blood run cold. “So stealing exam papers and selling them to desperate students counts as ‘messing around’ now?”
She took a step closer, her shadow looming over him despite her slightly smaller frame. The rain continued to pour outside, its rhythm punctuating her words.
“I have the screenshots, the emails, the recordings. Every lie you told, every bribe you took—it’s all here.” She held up her phone, her finger hovering over the screen. “It would only take one click for this to reach the dean’s office.”
The senior’s face paled. He stumbled backward, his bravado crumbling into a pitiful mess. “Please, Domo. Don’t ruin me. I’ll do anything—just don’t—”
“Ruin you?” she interrupted, her eyes narrowing. “You ruined yourself the moment you decided your greed was worth more than the futures of those you exploited.”
There was no room for argument in her tone, no opening for negotiation. She wasn’t cruel. She wasn’t emotional. She was just. And that made it worse.
When the senior finally broke down into sobs, begging on his knees, Domo didn’t gloat. She didn’t smile. She simply pressed send.
You didn’t need to stick around to know what happened next. The senior was expelled within a week, his disgrace plastered across every whispering clique in the halls.
———
Another time, you saw her in action during a group project. It was supposed to be simple—divide the workload evenly, finish on time, get a decent grade. But one of your teammates, a quiet girl with a perpetually nervous expression, confessed to Domo that someone had been stealing her ideas and presenting them as his own in front of the professor.
Domo didn’t hesitate.
She called the guy out during the next class, her voice ringing clear across the room. “I think it’s only fair to credit the person who actually did the work, don’t you?”
The guy laughed nervously, brushing her off. “What are you talking about, Domo? We all worked on it together.”
“Really?” she said, tilting her head slightly. Her eyes glittered like shards of broken glass. “Because I have the timestamps on her drafts and the plagiarism report showing your presentation is word-for-word identical. Care to explain how that’s a coincidence?”
The classroom went silent. The professor frowned, leaning forward in his chair.
“Domo, I—” the guy started, but she cut him off with a single, raised hand.
“I don’t want your excuses,” she said firmly. “I want you to admit what you did, apologize to her, and redo the work properly. Or we can take this up with the academic board. Your choice.”
You could almost hear the sound of his pride shattering. He mumbled something that vaguely resembled an apology, avoiding everyone’s eyes, and spent the rest of the term walking on eggshells around her.
———
Domo’s sense of justice wasn’t loud or flashy. It didn’t rely on intimidation or physical strength. It was quiet, methodical, and utterly terrifying.
She didn’t give second chances. She didn’t forgive dishonesty.
And that was why you could never let her find out. Not about your hacking. Not about the money. Not about how you had initially planned to use her kindness for your own survival.
Because if she ever did…
She wouldn’t just hate you.
She’d destroy you.
────────────
“I mean, it’s almost funny,” he said, leaning in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Here you are, pretending to be this innocent little thing, latching onto her like a leech. But let’s be real—this friendship of yours? It’s built on lies. You used her.”
“No,” you whispered, shaking your head, your voice trembling. “That’s not true. I—”
“Oh, but it is,” he cut you off, his tone sharp and biting. “You needed her, didn’t you? Not for who she is, but for what she could give you. Money. Protection. A shield to hide behind. You’re pathetic.”
Tears welled in your eyes, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze. “I care about her,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
He laughed, a harsh, mocking sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Care about her? Don’t make me laugh. If you really cared, you’d have told her the truth by now. But you won’t, will you? Because deep down, you know she’d drop you in a heartbeat. She’d see you for what you really are—a selfish, manipulative little rat.”
The words hit like a slap, and you recoiled, your heart pounding. “I didn’t—”
“Save it,” he sneered, cutting you off again. “You think she’s going to believe you over me? I’ve got proof, sweetheart. I’ve seen what you do. All those late nights, the hacking, the money you’ve been funneling. You really thought you’d get away with it?”
You opened your mouth to protest, to deny, but he didn’t give you the chance. “Don’t bother,” he said, his tone softening to something almost tender. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to tell her… yet. But imagine how she’d look at you if I did. Imagine the betrayal in her eyes when she realizes her best friend is nothing but a criminal.”
His hand reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a mockery of affection. You flinched but didn’t pull away, too frozen by fear. “But I’m not the bad guy here,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m giving you a chance. A way out. All you have to do is listen to me. Do what I say. It’s not that hard, is it?”
You shook your head, your voice trembling as you tried to stand your ground. “I won’t let you manipulate me.”
His grin widened, his eyes dark with amusement. “Oh, sweetheart, I don’t need to manipulate you. I just have to tell the truth. And that’s the beauty of it, isn’t it? You’ve already done all the hard work for me. All I have to do is hand her the evidence, and you’re done.”
His hand slid down to your wrist, his grip tightening just enough to make you wince. “So here’s the deal,” he said, his tone cold and commanding. “You’re going to do exactly what I say, when I say it. No questions, no hesitation. Because if you don’t…”
He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I’ll make sure she knows everything. And when she does, she’ll hate you. She’ll destroy you. And I’ll be right here to watch.”
You shuddered, the weight of his words crushing down on you. He pulled back, his grin as smug as ever. “So, what’s it going to be?” he asked, his voice laced with mockery. “Are you going to be a good little girl and play along? Or do I need to make a few phone calls?”
The silence stretched between you, suffocating, as he waited for your answer. And in that moment, you realized there was no way out. Not without losing everything.
———
His lips crashed against yours again, rough and demanding, his fingers curling into the nape of your neck with enough pressure to make your scalp burn. You didn’t resist—not because you wanted this, but because resisting would only escalate things. His breath was hot and suffocating, his teeth grazing your lower lip as if to punish you for every shudder of disgust you couldn’t suppress.
Your mind spun in chaotic circles, desperately searching for an escape even as his body pressed you further into the mattress. His weight pinned you down, his hands wandering in a way that felt more like a claim than an embrace.
You closed your eyes, trying to block him out, but that only made your thoughts louder. They roared with a single name: Domo.
Domo, who would never forgive you. Domo, who could never know.
The thought of her was a knife in your chest, sharp and twisting. You didn’t fear her anger—you feared her disappointment. Domo wasn’t just a friend. She was the only light you had, the only one who ever made you feel like maybe you weren’t completely worthless. But Domo had a sense of justice as unforgiving as the universe itself.
You had seen her at her most ruthless. She wasn’t the type to scream or cry when betrayed. No, Domo dissected you with precision, unraveling every thread of your lies until you were nothing but a tangle of shame and regret. You had watched her dismantle people who thought they could outwit her, her sharp words leaving them gutted in ways they never recovered from.
If she found out about the hacking… the money…
Your stomach twisted. You’d seen it happen before. The way her eyes hardened, the way her voice turned cold, like steel slicing through flesh. Domo didn’t just destroy people—she erased them, made them into cautionary tales.
And she’d do the same to you.
But more than that, you’d lose her. She wouldn’t see the circumstances. She wouldn’t see your desperation, your mother, your empty dorm room filled with shadows. She’d only see the crime, the betrayal, the weakness.
The bully’s lips moved to your neck, and you bit your tongue to suppress a gasp. His hands slid lower, possessive and mocking, as if to remind you of the power he held over you.
“Thinking about her again, aren’t you?” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and cruel. “Your precious Domo. Wondering what she’d say if she saw you like this.”
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.
Because the truth was, you couldn’t let her see. You couldn’t let her know how far you’d fallen, how much you’d compromised. If she knew—if she even suspected—she’d leave you.
And your mother…
The thought of her sent a fresh wave of nausea rolling through you. If Domo’s judgment was cold and calculated, your mother’s was visceral and brutal. She wouldn’t just be disappointed. She’d punish you, grind you down until there was nothing left. You’d seen it in her eyes, in the way her fingers curled into fists, in the way her voice dropped to a low, venomous growl when she was angry.
The money wasn’t just a lifeline—it was the leash she held you on. It was the only thing keeping her rage at bay.
“Pathetic,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re not even here, are you? Too busy thinking about how to keep all your little secrets.”
He kissed you again, his hands tightening their grip, and your mind screamed at you to focus. But all you could think about was Domo’s face—her sharp, piercing eyes, her unwavering sense of right and wrong.
And the cold, hard truth that if she ever knew the real you, she wouldn’t just walk away. She’d destroy you.
Just like he would.
“Go ahead,” he taunted, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. His smirk was razor-sharp, his gaze dark with amusement. “Keep pretending you’re innocent. But we both know the truth, don’t we? You’re just as dirty as the rest of us. And the best part? No one’s going to save you.”
You didn’t reply. You couldn’t.
Because he was right.
———
Your head swam with the weight of his words, the dark intensity behind them burrowing under your skin like thorns. His breath was hot against your lips as he cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones with an almost tender care, a stark contrast to the bruises you knew he’d left on your body before. The room spun with his presence, suffocating, inescapable, and yet something in you was too tired to resist.
“You think anyone else could love you like this?” he whispered, his voice low and raw, each word an anchor pulling you deeper into his orbit. His lips found the corner of your mouth, teasing, brushing, and when you didn’t pull away, he took that as a surrender.
“I see you,” he murmured, his hands trailing down to your waist, pulling you flush against him. “The real you. The one who’s scared, pathetic, desperate. I see it, and I still love you for it. No one else does. Not Domo, not your mother, no one. They only see what you pretend to be.”
He kissed you hard then, his mouth consuming yours, claiming you with a ferocity that left you breathless. The edge of his teeth scraped against your lower lip as he pulled back, just enough to look at you, his eyes sharp and burning with something primal.
“It’s always been the two of us,” he growled, his voice thick with possession as he gripped your hips, grinding against you in slow, deliberate movements that left no room for misinterpretation. “Even when you ran to Domo, even when you tried to leave me behind, you always came back. You’re mine. Always have been. Always will be.”
Your chest tightened as his words drilled into you, his logic cutting through every feeble protest you might have had. No one else cared. Not like this. Not with this twisted, obsessive devotion that terrified you as much as it made you feel alive.
“You think Domo will stay if she finds out who you really are?” he sneered, his lips ghosting over your jawline before nipping at your ear. “She’ll throw you away like everyone else. But me?” His voice softened, his tone almost reverent. “I don’t care what you do. Cheat, lie, betray me—hell, run back to her if you want. I’ll still be here. I’ll always be here.”
Your body betrayed you before your mind could catch up. Your lips pressed against his, hesitant, shy, but it was enough to spark something dangerous in him. He growled low in his throat, his hands tightening on you as he deepened the kiss, his tongue demanding entry, his movements aggressive but laced with a desperate kind of love.
“That’s it,” he murmured against your lips, his hands roaming, gripping, owning. “You’re starting to get it now, aren’t you? You’re mine. No one else gives a shit about you like I do. No one else knows you like I do. And no one else ever will.”
His words were a mantra, a binding spell, as he kissed you again, his love a suffocating force, overwhelming and inescapable. It wasn’t soft, it wasn’t kind, but it was real in a way that twisted something deep inside you.
“You and me, baby,” he said, his voice a promise and a threat all at once. “Always.”
———
The hesitation lingered in your body, a faint tremor in your hands, a fleeting flicker in your gaze that he picked up on like a predator scenting blood. His grip on your waist tightened as his lips hovered over yours, smirking just slightly at the way you tensed under his touch.
“Still fighting me, huh?” he murmured, his voice low and rich with amusement, a dangerous edge beneath his tone. “You don’t have to say anything. I know that little head of yours is spinning, trying to figure out what to do. But we both know the truth, don’t we? You can’t afford to push me away.”
He kissed you again, slower this time, deliberate and suffocating, drawing out every second as if savoring his victory. “Not like this is new for us,” he whispered against your lips, his tone almost tender, like a lover’s. “You remember, don’t you? Or are you gonna pretend you don’t? It’s been a while, sure—probably because you’ve been too busy drooling over that bitch Domo. But this? This has always been us.”
The words landed like blows, each one calculated to chip away at your defenses. You stiffened at the mention of Domo, your mind spiraling into the familiar maze of fear and guilt. He laughed softly, sensing your weakness, and tilted your chin up so your eyes met his.
“There it is,” he said, his grin widening as his fingers brushed your cheek with mock tenderness. “That little look of guilt. You don’t want her to know, do you? Don’t want her to see the real you. The one who cheats and lies and does whatever it takes to survive. Guess what? I already know all of that, and I’m still here. Isn’t that funny?”
You stayed silent, your breath shaky as his hands roamed with purpose, drawing you closer, forcing you to feel every inch of his control. “She’d never forgive you,” he continued, his voice a soft hum of poison. “If she found out, she’d drop you like you were nothing. And your mom? Oh, let’s not even start on her.”
He chuckled, low and dark, the vibration of it sinking into your chest. “But me?” he murmured, brushing his lips against the corner of your mouth before stealing another kiss, this one deeper, hungrier. “I don’t care what you do. I don’t care what you are. I’ve always loved you for it. Your pathetic, broken little self is mine.”
You knew he was pushing you, pressing all the right buttons to ensure you bent to his will. Your mind screamed at you to resist, to fight, but the weight of everything he had over you—the photos, the proof, the cruel knowledge of your worst secrets—held you firmly in place.
“That’s right,” he whispered as you finally stopped resisting, your body going limp under his hold. He kissed you again, his hands sliding down to grip your hips, possessive and firm. “You’re getting it now. This is where you belong. With me. Submitting to me, just like you always have, just like you always will.”
He didn’t stop, even as your compliance became evident. Instead, he pressed harder, his kisses more demanding, his touch bolder, his words laced with a dangerous, almost intoxicating affection.
“I don’t just own your body,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear as his hands pulled you even closer. “I own your heart, your mind, your fucking soul. Domo doesn’t get that, and she never will. This? This is ours. Always has been.”
You swallowed hard, your throat dry and tight as the reality of his hold on you settled like chains around your chest.
Every word, every touch, every calculated smile of his reminded you of the truth—you were his, and fighting back only tightened his grip.
———
His hands moved with an infuriating blend of precision and fervor, peeling away layers of your clothing as if removing barriers to what he believed was already his. Each brush of his fingers was rough, each kiss an assault, his lips crushing against yours like he was trying to consume you entirely. He growled low in his throat, a predatory sound that sent a shiver of both fear and shameful heat down your spine.
"That’s it," he murmured, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, his pupils blown wide with a dangerous mix of lust and obsession. His breath fanned hot against your skin as his fingers dug into your thighs, pulling you closer. “My little masochist. You like this, don’t you? Pretending to fight me, pretending you have some kind of choice. But deep down, you love it. You love me.”
The words dripped with mockery, but underneath the venom, there was something softer—something that felt almost genuine in its twisted way. He leaned down, his teeth grazing your neck, biting just hard enough to make you gasp. “Yeah, that’s the sound I want. None of that quiet, boring little act you pull for everyone else. Show me what you really are, hmm? Weak, needy, desperate. Mine.”
Your body betrayed you, arching into his touch even as your mind screamed at you to pull away. He noticed, of course he noticed, and his smirk widened, his movements growing bolder. His hands roamed over you with a hunger that bordered on savage, but there was a calculated restraint in his grip, like he was savoring every moment of your submission.
“You know,” he whispered, his voice rough and husky as his fingers slipped beneath the last layer of fabric, “I could ruin you, completely destroy that pathetic little life of yours. But I don’t. You know why?” He kissed you hard, swallowing your unsteady breaths before pulling back just enough to whisper against your lips. “Because I love you. No one else gives a damn about you, not your saintly Domo, not even your precious mother. Just me.”
His movements grew rougher, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force as he pushed you back onto the bed. He hovered over you, his gaze dark and feral, his smirk curling into something more primal. “You’re so fucking stupid,” he said, his voice almost a growl as he pressed his body against yours. “Careless, weak, a complete mess. But you’re my mess. And no matter how much you screw up, no matter how much you betray me, I’m the one who’s always going to pick you up, fix you, keep you safe.”
Each word came with another bruising kiss, another searing touch that left you reeling. He whispered sweet poison into your ear, promises wrapped in degradation, affection laced with humiliation. “You’ll never find anyone else who loves you like this,” he murmured, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “Who knows you like this. You’d be nothing without me, and you know it.”
His real personality was fully unleashed now—raw, unfiltered, and terrifyingly familiar. The mask of control slipped just enough to reveal the primal, obsessive hunger beneath. Every movement, every word, every calculated act was designed to remind you of one thing: he owned you. Body, mind, and soul.
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If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology. Thank you.
General TAG LIST of “A Heart Devoured”: @definetlythinkimanalien , @floooring , @lilyalone , @theogborjie , @ne7zach
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callmearcturus · 29 days ago
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dottie lasso is the final boss of the show (and ted loses)
someone commented on my ted-is-a-feminine-junior-too post about recognizing dottie lasso and what she did, and i'm a Johnny-come-lately to this fandom so i missed all the discourse
but surely it's been discussed to death that Dottie Lasso is the Final Boss of Ted's life, right? like, she shows up on that bench and you should feel the opening of "MEGALOVANIA" in your soul because she's the villain of the story.
honestly, in Ted Lasso, the main villains are: Rupert Mannion, Twitter, Rupert Mannion again, cisnormativity/heteronormativity, and Dottie Lasso, kind of in that order IMO.
"Mom City" is kind of a genius episode with its thesis and punchline. Because Dottie shows up and derails Ted's entire life and not in a good way. She makes him palpably uncomfortable and all of his usual kindness and interest is just turned off around her.
This episode isn't shy about reminding the audience that Richmond has become Ted's home. From the most fish outta water who nearly gets killed looking the wrong way crossing the street, Ted knows his neighbors, knows the culture here, and is defensive with that knowledge because it's been hard-won over time.
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No but really, look at how UNCOMFORTABLE Ted is EVERY MINUTE of this episode. It's so stark bc this charm offensive Dottie's doing on everyone at Richmond is so clearly a Lasso Thing. This is the exact tactic Ted used when he was new in town and completely at sea.
(fuck this got long, there's a lot more under the jump)
But he isn't charmed or permissive or entertained, he never once Yes, Ands what Dottie says. In fact, he corrects her all the time.
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jesus fuck look at this specific moment!!!
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who the fuck are you and where is ted
because Dottie being here is a nightmare. she's the person who knows the Ted Lasso Source Code and the way she maneuvers and nudges him, he seems helpless against it. So he continuously separates himself from her in what feels to me like a fearful reaction.
Like, when Dottie explains where she's staying, she does this trick
DOTTIE: An adorable little hostel. I've met so many Australians. They are backpacking through Europe. So much sex. TED: Mom. DOTTIE: Not me, the Australians. TED: No, no, I get it, okay. How about you stay here for the rest of your trip, all right? DOTTIE: Only if I'm not a hassle.
This is such a fucking move, you realize? She has been in London a fucking WEEK without telling him, then as soon as she tells him where she's staying, she, a midwestern mom to her open-minded but very romantically private son, invokes sex so he'll be uncomfortable with the situation and invite her to stay. This is a chess move they should call the Wichita Shuffle.
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And Ted absolutely hates the way Dottie lies about him. The connection is pretty straightforward; Dottie deals with her trauma and pain by covering them up with pretty little lies and melting truths until they fit the shape she wants them to be in. Everything she says in this episode is bullshit.
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(points up) THIS INCLUDED, BTW. This is the Ted that Dottie wants him to be, the guy who will fall on his sword at the first sign of someone else's discomfort.
But that isn't who Ted is anymore and Dottie saying this is vicious and cruel. It's disrespectful to Rebecca, to everyone at Richmond, and to the work Ted's done with Sharon.
which oooooooooh
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hey, anyone else remember Ted's "I love meeting people's moms, it's like an instruction manual on why they're nuts" from S2? boy that's a brick joke
and this bit of dottie saying her anxiety re: ted's therapy out loud, that hissing sound is a fuse being lit in this moment
Ted calls her out directly. He knows how she operates because she raised him in her own image. As I noted in the other post, Leslie Higgins is not the only feminine junior at Richmond, so is Theodore Lasso, son of Dorothy Lasso.
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THAT FUCKING DARK CHUCKLE, THE "YEAH OKAY" MOMENT this is the fuse finally reaching the dynamite
this is the moment, this moment of push-back, implicitly the first time Ted's ever pushed back in his life
this is the moment Dottie takes every single thing she knows about Ted, everything she put into him, and she destroys his fucking life with the exact four words it would take to make Ted give up everything he's worked for, all so he'll go back to being what she expects from him.
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and hell if he doesn't know it.
everything he's done for himself, all the space he's finally allowed himself to fill, the progress and labor he's put into becoming a better person
mom shows up and tells him no, you're coming back.
(and the fact Dottie Lasso, a character who has not said five truthful things this entire episode, tells us how someone else feels should be questioned very fucking directly. i don't trust this woman to honestly report on Henry's opinion of peanut butter and jelly, let alone if he wants his father to give up his life and return to Kansas. i know every single fic has brought up the question of "hey why doesn't anyone ask Henry what he wants" but that's because SOMEONE needs to ask the question instead of taking Dorothy fucking Lasso's word for it, christ)
I don't know how tf you don't read this show as a tragedy. Dottie Lasso is incredible, she's so pitch-perfectly written and acted, and she's absolutely the final boss of the show. And Ted doesn't win that fight.
hell THE SHOW SAYS THE QUIET PART OUT LOUD, i would put the screencap here but I've run out of images, but THEY FUCK YOU UP, YOUR MUM AND DAD, THE SHOW SAYS IT this is a fantastic tragedy, i love it
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shysuccubusstuff · 3 months ago
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day 25: Hate fucking + Deepthroat + Agoraphilia + Dacryphilia + Gaming + Degradation + (slight) Mindbreak + (slight) DubCon? - Streamer! Kinich
Summary: The streamer company you work for decided to throw a huge party in order to congratulate the great revenue of this year, inviting only the greatest. That included you, as well as that mysterious streamer called Pixel Dragon.
Content: Kinich has this kind of alter ego (Ajaw's personality) when he streams, that is the reason why he's extra mean!! + Non proof-reader, as always.
Word count: 4,5K
Note: I've been trying to end this for so many days but I always ended up burning out so it took me so much time... I didn't even realise that I had written 4K words... Sorry for taking so long, I hope all of you enjoyed this little Kinktober!! I'm already working on some other stuff for different fandoms ♡♡ Stay tuned!
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It was November, finally the time in which the great parties for streamers took place. You had been invited, of course, after all, you had been able to remain the top creator during over five months, tightly followed by that gaming streamer, PixelDragon.
The name was a bit cringy, but he had been able to quickly rise to the high rankings thanks to his great skills on many of the different games he had tried, ranging from FPS to soul-like games.
When you finally arrived, you were greeted by the smiling sponsors, taking your hand and guiding you to the darkened room, the place being lightened by the dim red lights. You took a sit close to a masked man, the man moved to the side, allowing you to sit close to him while he checked his phone. You were barely able to imagine the face underneath, his lips shinning under the red lights.
“Are you going to drill my face the whole evening?” The man kept his gaze fixated on his screen, his fingers scrolling down mindlessly.
“How did you even---? Sorry, I was just curious about what you truly looked like under the mask.”
“Well, you are not definitely getting any glimpse if you keep it like this.” He turned off his phone, putting it on his pocket and looking into your eyes, his green orbs glistening as the spotlight moved towards where you were. Outraged, you decided to get up, rapidly taking your stuff before fleeting the scene.
By the time you were back to your usual self, the party had already reached its’ highest peak, with the music booming all over the place and the floor feeling sticky form all the drinks that had been spilled. You threw yourself against one of the many sofas that were laying around the place, suddenly hitting your head against something extremely hard. You turned around annoyed, only to find a red-faced man, his hazed green eyes shinning under the red lights of the club. “Are you ok?” Your words were a bit dragged, your whole mouth feeling a bit funny as you tried to talk as normal. “Do you hear me?” You screamed to his hear, perhaps he wasn’t answering because of the loud music. The man moved to the side, his face looking slightly annoyed.
“I can hear you perfectly, no need to scream.” He furrowed his eyebrows, moving a few strands of hair that were bothering him.
“Who are you? I didn’t see you before during the dinner.” You took out your phone, scanning through the many names of people that had been invited to the party. “I suppose you’re not the one called PixelDragon, am I right? God, that dude seems like such a prick, he’s always flexing about his skills during the collabs, even when we are supposed to be friendly about them, plus, he has been keeping his identity hidden even to his own workmates, I get that he wants to avoid leaks, but it’s not like the rest of us would be such losers, even I, who kind of hates his guts wouldn’t do something so fucking low. He always acts as if he’s far too good for the rest of us and it gets me so pissed off, though, I do have to say that he does have some good points, like his great abilities, or his deep voice, and yeah, his hands may look kind of sexy while smashing the buttons but that’s all, you know?” The alcohol was definitely getting the best of you, as you wouldn’t be able to stop your yapping even if you tried. “Are you listening to me, mister?”
“Yeah, I am. I hate to say it, but this might be a skill issue, like straight up.” The man laughed out-loud, his hand moving a few strands of his hair out of his face.
“Nice one, jackass, real funny. Anyways, how come I missed such a hot dude in the diner? You were def one of the masked ones, right? Promise I won’t leak anything, not like it would benefit me, you know?” You laid your head on one of his shoulders, turning around so you could touch the small part of his chest that was exposed because of his unbuttoned shirt. “Are you trynna get someone to accompany you tonight? You will def get a good one with me, handsome…” You smiled, enjoying how he started to react to your touch.
“You sure get comfortable with some random man, what if I’m some weird sicko that is planning on kidnapping you?” His right hand moved towards your hip, caressing it as his gaze started to darken.
“Then you wouldn’t be here, this place is exclusive for those working for our company, it’s ok, I can find some other dude, don’t wanna pressure you or anything, let’s see each other later, yeah? Next time you should tell me the name of your channel, we could make a collab or something!” You got up, leaving him with his words still in his mouth.
By the time you finally opened your eyes again, you were being taken by the arms of some random man, you quickly struggled, trying to get him to let you go, “Hey, don’t know who the fuck are you, but you’re def not someone I---”, the man put his hand on your mouth, turning on the flashlight on his phone so you could see his face, it was the hot dude at the party.
“Sorry, I saw some weird due trying to take you home, I know I can also be considered a weirdo, but hey, at least we talked, I guess, let me take you to your room, I won’t try anything weird, ok?” Your body relaxed, allowing him to carry your limp body to his room, finally allowing you to lay down on his king size bed.
“Thanks, hot stuff, promise I will compensate you tomorrow…” Just as you were about to drift to sleep, a known voice resonated from the man’s phone, it was that damn PixelDragon. Annoyed, you quickly got up, the nauseas getting to you, forcing you to stop for a second before speaking.
“Why are you listening to that jackass? He thinks he is some kind of big shot just cause the president started to pay more attention to him than to those who have been more time in the company. He may have nice hands and all, together with a real hot voice, but that is all that he has, he ain’t even that good, I mean---”
“You talk too much about him for you to simply hate him, aren’t you like lowkey wishing you knew how he looked? All your yapping about how he isn’t that huge of a streamer makes you seem even more of a fan than those crazy ones that send him his panties and stuff. Bet you want him to finger you with his slender fingers real bad, uh?” Your face flushed, feeling your head even more warm than before.
“You’re def projecting, I don’t want to fuck him or anything like that, why would I want that asshole’s fingers inside me—”
“Oh yeah? Then you will have no issue with that same asshole touching your whole body, uh? I’m sure that you have already imagined it so many fucking times. Tell me, are you really that naïve that you didn’t think eve for a moment that the man with the dragon-like mask was actually PixelDragon? It’s not like the mask that the president gave me was that mysterious, but I suppose that you can’t expect nothing great from an airhead like you, right?” The guy smiled as he started to change his clothes, leaving his jacket, gloves, and his necktie on top of the small desk that was within the room. “How about we do that collab that you wanted so much? Bet you would love to gain some more attention from my viewers, right? I can do a special live, just for you, what do you think?” You stopped for a moment, I mean, you were actually just a masked youtuber, and you were only focused on mature audiences, so, there should be no issue, right? You could probably use the mask he had used during the party. You nodded, crawling out of the bed and getting closer to the setup that he had already built for the duration of the event. “Oh, I forgot, can you plug in the cable under the table? I forgot to do it, but I have to keep on preparing the stream.” Once again, you were simply able to nod, getting on all fours and going under the table.
“Hey, there’s no plug missing or something like that, are you sure---?” You covered your mouth as soon as you heard the sound that marked the beginning of the live. You hit his leg, trying to remind him that you were still under the table, he lowered his gaze, trying to avoid making it much obvious. He smiled wickedly, moving one of his hands towards his trousers, carefully pulling down the zipper of his pants together with his underwear, the tip of his cock being left dangerously close to your mouth.
“So, yeah, we had a small gathering for the company, not that important, now it’s time to finally get back to what truly matters, am I right?” He read some of the comments that were already pilling up, answering with snarky comments to some, while he simply laughed to others. How was he even able to act as if he wasn’t with his cock out? A wicked idea crossed your mind, you could suddenly get out of there, making sure that the viewers were able to see you run out of frame, thus stealing his spotlight even further. That sounded like a great idea, of course, that changed until you realised that this little plan would lead to the boss yelling to both of you. Just as you were about to try and get out, his legs trapped you, causing you to end up almost hitting your face against the raging erection. “Oh guys, wait a sec, I gotta check that everything is in order.” He stopped the live for a second, making sure to disconnect the camera and mic. “Didn’t you want to make a collab?” Your face flushed, you weren’t really sure if it was because of how you felt your blood boiling, or maybe it had much more to do with the fact that his cock looked delicious, his tip flushed with a slight red tint. “If it’s too much for you, you can simply leave, I swear I won’t say anything to no one from the company, not like it would benefit me, right?” He moved to the side, allowing you to leave if you truly wanted to. You were about to do so, but then you realised something. Wasn’t that like admitting defeat against him? He would get the upper hand, making you feel as if you had to be grateful for his “mercy”! Not on your watch, oh no, so you swallowed all the embarrassment that you had been feeling, starting to leave small kisses all over his length. “I supposed so, oh wait, let me help you with a little something.” He got up from his chair, rummaging in his suitcase and then sitting back again, he made a sign for you to turn around, so you did, your ass facing his way. Suddenly, his slender fingers were moving your underwear to the side, a small object being inserted inside your cunt. “There, I hope this can keep my precious slut in place while I work, wait for me.” He waited for you to move back to your place, his eyes filled with a certain sense of superiority.
“Shut up, you’re just making it more difficult for me, keep your mouth shut for a while.” You nagged, trying your best not to stutter as you started to feel the small device starting to move. Just then, you heard how the live started back again.
“I’m back, missed me?” He went back to reading the comments with a playful smile. “Oh, shut up, not like I spent more than a few minutes. K, now let’s try to see who will be able to join the game….” He waited for a few minutes until the results of the online roulette popped up. “Well, congrats, I’ll send you the link to the VC, hope you all are ready.” You listened to him; it was quite impressive how he was able to keep his voice stable despite having your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock. “Dude, it must be real sad to see me play almost everyday and most of you are still hard-stucks, sucks to be you, uh?” His snarky comment caused the viewers to get wild, some were praising his skills, while others had gotten truly angered by his remarks, the sound of the flow of comments filled the room. You were just about to smirk at how even his own fan hated him, but your moment of bliss was suddenly stopped as soon as you started to feel how the small vibrator had suddenly moved much more rapidly than before. You clenched the fabric of his shirt, glaring at his extremely satisfied grin. “Anyways, get ready for it, promise me not to cry in the chat, I don’t want my mods to get tired from deleting your comments.” As the game started, you could perfectly hear how he was clearly cleaning the floor with his viewers, this was of course the perfect time to mess him up, right? So you did.
You started to move your tongue, slowly licking on his tip, while sometimes wrapping it over his length, making sure to let out a few noises in case that would actually rile him up, your eyes completely fixed on his face, not noticing even a single frow. If he wanted to play hard to get, then you would simply raise the stakes. You introduced his tip into your mouth, sucking on it as you used one of your hands to masturbate what was still left outside. It was then when one of his eyebrows furrowed, his lips forming a straight line as he tried to keep his mouth closed as best as he could, you were already celebrating your victory over him when you heard the sound that marked the end of his first victory, your head suddenly being pushed further down.
“GGs, next time send someone who is at least as good as me while playing with a stirring wheel. Let’s for the next game, yeah? No need for a break.” The players were once again chosen at random, quickly preparing the next game as one of his hands kept pushing your head, only releasing it when the game finally started. Your eyes were already watering a bit from the difficulty to breath, so you decided to step your little game even more, starting to take his whole length (or at least as much as you were able to manage without feeling as if you were about to throw up. His face quickly flushed, the grip on the mouse starting to strengthen, his jaw clenching and his eyes starting to darken. Despite his clear reaction to you, he was shameless enough to start to buck his hips, forcing his length further inside your mouth, not stopping even as you hit his lower stomach, trying to get him to either slow down his rhythm, or to simply give you a small break. Sadly, none of the choices were given to you, forcing your poor mouth open, his hand sometimes lowering just to carefully caress your hair.
Once again, you were soon able to hear the chat being flooded by comments after the great crushing he had done to his helpless viewers. “I gotta go now, remember to keep on playing so you all can at least hit me with a single bullet next time. See ya.” He quickly turned off the stream, his hands quickly gripping your hair. “Bet you had fun, uh? Sucking my cock while you heard my chat blowing up, pretty sure you must have been wishing they heard you under my desk sucking my cock. You must be fucking dripping, uh? Show me just how much you’re craving it.” He lend you his hand to get up, your legs almost giving up on you as you tried to stand up, his lean arms stopping you from falling. “Oh, I was sure that you were supposed to hate me, didn’t expect you to be the type to fall head over heels, but I mean, who wouldn’t fall in love with someone as hot---” His sentence was cut short as soon as you hit him on the stomach with your elbow.
“What the heck is that attitude? You kept on pushing my head against you, next time I will just bite your fucking dick off, bet that would give you more action that you have ever had.” You wiped down your tears, together with the saliva that had been running down your chin. “Why the heck would you even have something so--.” You stopped before ending the sentence, wondering just what would happen if his ego got even bigger.
“So… what? Finish the sentence.” He playfully touched your hair, his big hands petting you as if you were something precious. The heat was starting to rise to your cheeks, so you hit his hand, your gaze moving towards his temporary set.
“What is the code for this mic, pretty sure it’s one of the most expensive ones, right? Bet you must be blowing up your checks uh?” You got close, tinkering a bit with his stuff, moving all that was lying on top of his desk and looking around in case you were able to find a single tip on how was he able to keep his skills on point,  “Man you’re really—”
“Look, I’ve been trying to just act as if nothing is going on, but come on, you’re so bad at acting it’s almost embarrassing. You always walk around with that huge smile on your lips, shaking your hips as if you were trying as hard as possible for all the people around you to lick you from head to toe… You enjoy the attention, right? It gets you so high to feel as if you are better than the rest. Never had anyone show you where you truly belong, guess it’s my duty to do it then.” He took you by the arm, throwing you to the bed with just enough strength for you not to damage yourself. He quickly got on top of you, his body pressing against you as his hands started to get rid of all your clothes, your blouse and your skirt being thrown to the floor, soon followed by your bra and your underwear. “Since you want to behave like a brat, might as well and treat you like one.” He suddenly kissed you, his kiss being filled with hunger, rather than love or lust, he was planning on eating you whole.
“Come on, you’re just saying that to scare me, right? There’s no need for that, just, just let me go for now, I can, I can talk to the boss, you’re just being like this because you’re trying so hard to scare me, I get it, no need to keep this any further, just---” You put your hands on his chest, trying your best to avoid his eyes as they scanned you up and down.
“Open your mouth.” Your sentence was once again cut off, the room being filled with the sound of his clothes falling to the ground close to yours. He crawled, swiftly making his way to your face, his hardened dick facing you. “Do you expect it to suck itself? Open.” He grabbed his cock with one of his hands, the tip of his cock rubbing against your soft lips. You silently opened your mouth, unable to think about anything smart to say because of the current situation. “That’s right, open wide.” He carefully inserted the tip of his cock in your mouth, a deep breath leaving his mouth from the pleasure. “God, you should really consider becoming my own if you decide to leave the YouTube thing… you have such a pretty face and your body is just perfect, I will treat you as a queen, how about it?” His voice kept resonating inside your head, almost sounding a bit too good to pass on it, well the vibrator that was still inside you was definitely not helping you to stay sane. You sank your nails into the palms of your hands, trying to keep your own mind together while he kept on thrusting your mouth. “Just like that, you’re doing so good for me…” Tears once again swelled your eyes, your nails now digging on his abdomen as you tried to get him to let you rest even if it was or a second. “Oh, it seems you’re still able to put up a fight, let’s just change this then.” He finally let you breath, coughing as you were finally able to breath, this didn’t last much more, as you were suddenly lifted by him, then letting you sit on his lap, both of you facing the big mirror that was hanging on the wall. “You just need to realise what position are you on.” He lifted your body for a moment, taking off the vibrator, slowly inserting himself into you.
“Wait! I need a second to…to adjust, it’s difficult to do this without like, actually preparing.” You let him slowly make his way inside of you, finally bottoming out. “Fuck, just what do you even--- Shit…”
“Guess I was finally able to shut that reckless mouth of you, shouldn’t you thank me?” Of course, he just refused to give you even a single moment of peace, always running his mouth even as you were clearly able to feel his cock throbbing.
“Sure, like your dick isn’t barely holding on, you talk so much shit for someone who is balls deep inside me, I may not be able to kill you in the game, but I’m damn sure I will last much longer than your sorry excuse of a dic—” Your words were cut off as soon as he lifted you abruptly, your air leaving your lungs as his tip hit your cervix.
“You really don’t have any fucking clue about when to keep your mouth shut, uh? Always answering back even when I have the upper hand… Fuck.” His hips kept on bucking against you, not stopping even as the veins on his neck pumped up from his effort of not cumming. “This is no use, fuck…” He got up, not before taking the vibrator that had been inside you, his arms still holding you from under your thigs, walking until you were quite close to the mirror. “Look at your fucking face as I make you cum, yeah? Just fucking watch.” His hips started to move again, the position making it impossible for you to grip at anything in fear of him letting you fall, still, you tried to cover your mouth with both of your hands, denying him the possibility of hearing those sweet moans that were leaving your lips. “Cat got your tongue? You’re surprisingly quiet for someone as chatty as you, let’s see if I can fix that.” The rhythm of his thrusts sped up, forcing your eyes to roll to your skull as your insides got rearranged without you being able to do anything about it. Just as you were about to cry from the overstimulation, he suddenly let you stand on your two feet, well, if not because you almost fell face first to the floor, his hands gripped your hips with strength, his fingertips leaving marks on your skin. He took out the egg vibrator he had used previously, rubbing it a bit around your entrance before carefully inserting it inside you, he then decided to play with you a little by gliding his dick up and down, his tip constantly grinding against your clit. Before you were able to say anything, he entered you at once, the stretch making you squeal as your nails once again dug into his skin.
“Sure…Sure talk a lot of crap when you have still been unable to make me cum even once, your dick is so lame—” …Well, you surely had it coming this time, maybe the previous one as well, and well, maybe more times than just the last ones. But you never learnt, apparently.
“Fucking brat, just learn your position!” His last straw had been lost as soon as he saw on one of her streams you had been non-stop laughing at his supposedly small cock and your lack of bitches. He tightened his grip on your hips even further, lifting you from the floor and slamming his hips against your tender ass, your lips parting as those lewd sounds were once again filling the room.
“St-stop! My mind is turning really weird… Give me a second please!” You once again tried to hit him as an attempt to ease the unyielding rhythm he had established. He lowered one of his hands, suddenly levelling up the small roulette that controlled the vibrations, his fingers then moving on to start rubbing your clit, a degenerated smile appearing on his face as he saw your cunt dripping and some of the juices leaving your poor hole each time he slammed himself against you. Your vision was already starting to blurry a bit by the time you felt as if he was giving you even a tiny break, even the, it didn’t seem to have any plan of stopping, not even as you could faintly hear someone’s voice and hits on the wall from the close-by rooms.
You could clearly tell that he was about to cum, his lips bucking from time to time as he tried to keep that relentless rhythm. Just as you thought he was about to cum, he rapidly pulled out, his sperm staining your cheeks and part of your lower back. “You don’t even deserve my cum inside of you, next time you’ll learn how to keep your mouth shut, brat.” He let you down on top of the bed, walking towards one of the small doors that still concealed the rest of the room. Suddenly, he was back, a warm towel being passed around your whole body, his eyes showing a slight sign of concert. “…Name’s Kinich, I forgot to say it, I’m sorry.” …Was that brat really blushing? Fuck, even you were now flushed because of his teasing… Right?
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luvfy0dor · 9 months ago
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Soft Touches 'Nd Stuff ♡⁠˖
Warnings; Suggestive, cursing in a/n, I still only write specifically for BSD, my friends suggested characters from other fandoms, so credit to them; @ilovechuuy4 and @yaeeko and others not on tumblr
Description; Sleepy morning affection ;3
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Imagine laying in your bed with the sunrise visible through your window, dying the sky a pretty wash of pink, oranges and yellows all blended together. Your boyfriends arms are wrapped around your waist with his head burrowed in the crook of your neck and his chest rising and falling against your back. You mindlessly kept your eyes fixated on the rising sun while you waited for him to wake up, taking deep and steady breaths and basking in the peace and silence. Five minutes passed before you could feel his hand rub from your waist to your thigh and his breath on your neck, making you nearly shiver. "Mm.. goodmorning." He whispered, his voice scratchy from sleep. He momentarily rolled onto his back to stretch, kicking you while he stretched his legs and took on a starfish position. Once he felt physically refreshed, he curled right back up to you and kissed your cheek. "Goodmorning." You reply, reaching back to entangle your hand in his hair. "I had the funniest dream about you, last night.." he whispers with an audible grin, and his hands slide down your tummy to your abdomen. You let out a sigh, feeling his ticklish fingers against your skin. "Yeah? Was it really funny?" You ask, a little skeptical. He laughs under his breath and shakes his head. "Maybe not funny, but definitely fun." He leans forward to kiss along the back of your neck, his fingers hooking around the waist band of your pajama bottoms. "Can I show you what we did?" His voice sent more shivers down your spine, squirming in place and nodding. "Mhm.." you let his hands into your pants, feeling them start to touch you where others never had, and never would so long as he gets a say. His excitement was evident as you grinded your ass against his hips needily. "Perfect. When I'm done with you, you'll be glad I decided to tell you about it, sweetheart."
→ Dazai, Chuuya, Nikolai, Tachihara, I wrote this w/ Fyodor in mind but idrk, Belphie, Mello, Heizou, Kaeya, Tartaglia, Wriothsley, Alhaithem, Oikawa, Gojo, Jean, Gallagher, Blade, Boothill, Sampo, Aventurine, Argenti nd your favs!!
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A/n; hey chat sorry for the disappearance!! I had to take the AP World History Exam today!! It wasn't terrible to be quite fair!!! (it wasn't a cold war leq like I desired) (what the fuck was that dbq) (I'm going to kill myself) (not seriously obviously)(update from August chat i got a 5 im so dramatic)
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companionjones · 2 months ago
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Triple The Trouble
Pairing: Marc Spector/Steven Grant/Jake Lockley x Fem!Reader
Fandoms: Moon Knight, MCU, Marvel
Warnings: Smut, Cursing, Probably incorrect portrayals of Dissociative Identity Disorder, Reader has hair, Google translate Spanish, English and Spanish speaking Reader
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*******
You could have almost sworn that you heard that cliché tranquil flute playing as you opened your eyes to a new day. That's how perfect that morning was. The sun was shining sweetly through the curtains, and you were in bed with the loves of your life.
"Good morning, Marc," you greeted with a small smile.
Marc's face reflected yours. He shook his head. "I'll never get over how you can always tell which one of us is fronting."
"It's just easy to me," you said, "I can't explain it."
A mischievous smile flashed across Marc's face. "I'm not asking you to explain anything."
"Oh yeah? What are you asking me to do?" you wondered, playing along.
"I'm asking you to keep looking beautiful while I do this." On the last word, Marc dragged you closer to him by your sides. He leaned in and kissed you.
You giggled at the sudden movement, but quickly relaxed into the kiss.
For a few moments, you and Marc continued to make out. You both smiled into the kiss when Marc rolled on top of you.
He separated from you to ask, "Do you wanna?"
The way he phrased the question made you laugh. "Yeah, I wanna."
After that, Marc continued the kiss with a little more passion. It didn't take him long to start trailing kisses down your neck and torso.
It tickled. "Marc!"
He only separated from you when his face was in line with your cunt. You could feel his warm breath against you as Marc spoke up to confirm, "You sure, sweetheart?"
At that point, you were getting worked up. You nodded fervently down to him while voicing out a "Yeah."
Marc grew more serious before he settled his face into you. Marc's nose nudged against your clit as his tongue licked a long stripe up your folds.
You shivered and hooked a leg onto his back. Little noises betrayed how you were feeling for a few minutes before you full-on gasped when Marc's tongue plunged inside you.
It got harder and harder to form words. Moans were all that would leave your mouth as Marc's tongue pressed in and out of you.
Soon enough, he added his fingers. You cried out. It wasn't long after that when you were cumming.
You took a couple minutes to come down from your climax, but when you did, you noticed that he wasn't above you. Marc was still between your legs.
"Whatchu doin'?" you wondered aloud to him.
Marc was just staring at you with an ocean of desire on his face. You almost couldn't comprehend it.
"Get up here," you smirked, pulling Marc up to you.
As soon as you could reach his lips, you were making out with him again. While doing that, you rolled on top of Marc and reached down to his dick.
Marc moaned loudly as soon as you touched it.
"What? You like that?" you teased with a kiss. "Bet you'll like it more when I go like this..." Sensually, you started giving him a handjob while moving down to kiss and suck on his neck.
He moaned again, and started carding his fingers through your hair. "Y/n..."
Come to think of it, Marc had been rather quiet, not including the moans. Most of the time, he was a lot more talkative during your intimate moments with him.
As if on cue, Marc's face started to show signs of switching who was fronting. You assumed Marc had gotten too overwhelmed with what was happening, and needed someone else to take over. You took your hands completely off him so to not overwhelm whoever was about to come out.
"Hey, Steven," you smiled when you realized who it was.
"Hello, Y/n. I-I'm pleased to...see you again." He was clearly flustered that you were both naked and you sitting on top of him.
"Do you want to keep going? Or--?" you started to question, but Steven interrupted you.
"Keep going! Keep going. Gods, I felt what you were doing to us, and I had to come out. I had to to be a part of this."
Even though you had had sex with Steven many times before, he was still just as in awe of you as he had been the first time he saw you, whether you were wearing clothes or not. You leaned down to kiss him.
Steven turned you guys over so that he was on top, and he started talking while kissing you. "Y/n...I'd...like to...do something...?"
"What's that?" you returned, barely breaking the kiss.
"Can I...I'd like to...fuck you...doggy-style--?"
You immediately broke the kiss and stared at him with your mouth open. A smile was forming on your lips.
"Or if not, totally understandable--"
Before Steven could completely freak out, you brought him down to kiss you again. "Baby, you know you can always do whatever you want to me."
"Well now, don't go saying that. Not that I would ever, ever hurt you, but you never know if...I'll shut up now."
That whole time he was talking, you were getting into position.
Steven quieted down when you bared your ass to him.
That caused you to laugh as he lined himself up with you.
"A-are you ready?" Steven cleared his throat.
You pressed yourself against him. "Go ahead, sweetheart."
Steven audibly swallowed before slowly thrusting into your pussy from behind. You both moaned at the sensation.
"Oh-oh, gods. H-how does that feel?"
"Feels so good, baby." Your legs shook a little when you moved slightly. "How does it feel for you?"
He didn't hesitate in his response. "It feels like I could explode in you right now...Can I move?"
You nodded, already out of breath. "Yeah."
Steven started slowly thrusting in and out of you, and he slowly picked up speed. You let out a high pitched moan each time he entered you, and gasped every time he pulled out.
"Steven!" you squealed.
His breath came out hot against the shell of your ear. "T-tell me I'm doing a good job."
You couldn't think. "You're doing such a good job, baby, Oh. Oh, fuck. God, yes!"
Then, during one of the seconds he was out of you, Steven took a little longer to thrust back inside. Before he did, he roughly pushed you back down to the mattress.
Before the first Spanish word left his mouth, you knew Jake was fronting.
He hunched over to speak into your ear. "Dios, son demasiado saves Contigo, chica. Ambos sabemos lo ques puedes tomar. No es asi? (God, they go too easy on you, girl. We both know what you can take. Isn't that right?)" He didn't miss a word as he deftly moved his hips away and against yours.
"Yes. Yes!" you responded, then unconsciously switched to Spanish yourself. "No pares. Por favor no pares. Ya casi llego--! (Don't stop. Please don't stop. I'm almost there--!)" You reached your peak once more.
It was while he was inside you then that the body switched to Marc fronting again. You vaguely noticed who it was when he started moving again, and moaned, "I'm yours...I'm yours...We're yours!"
Something deep within you told you that all three of your boys were there with you as the body came inside you.
You moaned when he pulled out, and you collapsed onto your back with Marc laying on your chest. You could tell it was him by how he wouldn't let you get up.
"I need to go clean myself up," you lightheartedly reasoned, but he wasn't having it.
Marc whined, "Not yet. Just gimme a couple minutes, okay?"
You chuckled.
"Hey," Marc moved to look at you. "None of us hurt you, right? I felt things get a little intense with Jake there. It's why I came back out."
You shrugged. "Sometimes I like things intense."
Marc seemed satisfied with that answer. He kissed you. He must've switched to Steven during that because those were his eyes you were staring into when the kiss was broken.
Steven smirked at you. "I'll take note of that," he responded to your previous statement. "Now, let me get something to clean you up with, yeah?"
*******
Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, check out my masterlists. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3
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smusherina · 10 months ago
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yard work - chapter 2 (regina george x reader)
fandom: Mean Girls (all media)
pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader
summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.
chapter 1 / chapter 3
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During the school day, she'd ignore you as usual. Wandering the halls of Northshore, you'd catch glimpses of her but no more than that. It actually felt like you were seeing less of her than usual. It was hard to avoid somebody in a school like Northshore, but somehow she managed it. You doubted it had anything to do with you specifically. She'd been acting off since you'd had dinner at the Georges'.
After school, those days you went to Regina's house to do their yard work, it was as if a switch had been flipped. Gretchen and Karen weren't around. Regina had taken her mom's place on the patio and bathed in the sun as you worked.
You hated to say it was distracting. Partly because the whole thing had thrown you off kilter, like why was she doing all this all of a sudden, and also because she was hot. There was no question about it. Regina George was hot.
You desperately tried maintaining focus on the chlorine you were pouring into the pool, pretending you weren't all too aware of Regina lying not too far away from you, in a skimpy hot pink bikini, large sunglasses covering her eyes.
"Regina! Oh, that's such a cute 'suit you got, where'd you get it?" You were distantly aware of Mrs George stepping through the sliding door to the backyard. Regina muttered something in return. You didn't have to look to see Mrs George wilt at her daughter's dismissal.
It pissed you off. Regina didn't have to entertain her mom's every whim, she could be a bit much, even you could admit that, but she didn't have to be so mean.
You walked over to them with the empty chlorine bag in hand. "Hey, Mrs George." You called as you approached. "Margaritas?"
"Hi, sweetie! I brought you two some, gotta stay hydrated in this hot weather. All virgin, of course!" Mrs George winked and offered up the tray she had in her hands. You smiled gratefully and took one of the glasses. You were actually quite thirsty and Regina's mom made the best (alcohol-free) cocktails.
"Thanks," You said before taking a sip. Mm, strawberry and basil. Yummy.
"Just leave it there, mom. She's gotta work and I'm busy." Regina pointed at the little table next to the sunbeds before directing her attention back to, uh, lying in the sun. She sure looked busy.
"Okay, honey." Mrs George smiled, but the chirp in her voice was strained. "You just call and I'll be right here, alright?" She looked from her daughter to you.
"You got it, Mrs George."
Once the older woman had ducked out of the door and closed it behind her, you turned to Regina.
"You don't need to be mean, y'know." You took a sip, watching the pink slush move through the swirly straw.
"Excuse me?" Regina craned her neck in your direction, looking very uncomfortable. You walked around to the sunbed next to hers and sat down facing her.
"She just brought us margaritas." You said, continuing to sip on your drink.
"Uh, yeah, and I'm busy." She huffed before reaching for her own drink. "Why she feels the need to bother me is beyond me."
"She's your mom and wanted to do something nice." You rolled your eyes, already sick of her attitude.
Regina didn't bother responding. You adjusted on the seat so you were sitting on it the right way, legs kicked up and leaned back. You decided to relax for a few minutes. It was still the beginning of the school year, September barely just started, so summer was still lingering warm in the air.
There was a robin's nest in one of the apple trees. Red-chested birds flew around, from their home branch to the bird pool, to somewhere you couldn't see and back. Soon it'd be apple picking season. For the last two years of high school Mrs George had given you maybe more than half the apples since she didn't know what to do with so much. Before that, it used to be you and Regina. Picking apples, sitting on the branches, peeling each and every one and boiling them into jam with obscene amounts of sugar. Looking back, you were pretty sure doing all those things without proper adult supervision was like tempting a tragic accident.
(To be fair, you had fallen out of those apple trees once before. You were maybe twelve and it was the middle of summer. You'd lost your balance and toppled onto your wrist. Regina had nearly fallen herself scrambling down to get you. She'd cried more than you and you were the one with a broken bone. She insisted you pick a pink cast. She was the first to sign it, too.)
Out in the sun, it was much hotter than under the partial shade in the yard. You chugged the rest of your drink before standing back up. You pulled off your shirt as you walked to the patio stairs, leaving on just a sports bra and your shorts.
"Jean shorts are so lame," Regina said behind you. You turned to look at her and found her looking at you from over her sunglasses. Her eyes raked over your body, no doubt judging how much weight you'd gained since she last saw you without clothes.
Fuck. Not like that. That sounded wrong. You had spent a lot of time at her pool, both of you in swimsuits, as kids. A totally normal, non-sexual setting.
You shrugged, pretending her wandering eye did not make you insecure. "I like my jorts."
"Your taste is questionable." Regina scoffed, a little smile playing on her lips. "At best." She added sassily. You had a feeling she was mocking you.
"Thanks!" You struck a little pose, cocking your hip and blowing a kiss her way, responding in an equally snarky manner. You knew you didn't stand up to her fashion standards. Loose jean shorts down to a little above your knees, basic brown slides, and now sans a raggedy, well-loved Queen tee was not exactly high couture.
"You're not cute, jorts." She leaned up on her elbows and pushed the shades up to her hair. "I think I saw this exact outfit on you, like, three years ago." She pretended to think, finger on her chin. "So, when we were thirteen..."
"Yeah, you probably did." You chuckled. "You also called me jorts three years ago. So, clearly, nothing's changed, right?"
You both damn well knew a lot had changed. Still, she entertained you with a seemingly genuine smile. You smiled back before turning away to retrieve some tools from the shed. There was a gap in the fence that needed fixing.
Then, for the following week and then some, as if the past years of her ignoring you hadn't happened at all, she started speaking to you. Not at school, though, never in public. Only Kylie and Mrs George were privy to your rekindled friendship. You weren't sure if you could even call it that. Was it friendship if it was conditional to time and place?
You couldn't find it in yourself to care too much, though. You had your own crowd at school. You had things other than the Georges' yard work to do. Sometimes you went skating with the guys, picked up shifts at the shop, did chores and yard work at home, played video games, and on rare occasions studied. You had a life outside of Regina George.
So what if when you fucked up a trick and looked around all frantic, checking that Regina hadn't suddenly spawned at the skate park and seen your epic fall. So what if you spent your work hours thinking about her, counting down the minutes until you got to clean the Georges' pool again. So fucking what you wanted to beat the shit out of Regina in Mortal Kombat.
Maybe you did care. You wanted to spend more time with her. Was that a crime? If you could talk during the several hours of the day, five days a week, that the two of you went to the same school, then that want would've abated. But you had to wait. Sometimes there were several days in a row that you barely got a glimpse of her.
You sounded pathetic. Gosh. You hadn't realized how much you missed her until you got a taste of what it was like to have her back. You couldn't even remember what had caused her sudden avoidance back then. Something with Janice and a sleepover. The details had gone blurry since then. You hadn't even been at the sleepover, but you'd heard something bad had gone down. Something that caused Janis 'Imi'ike to switch schools for the remainder of middle school.
Sighing, you let your pencil fall from your hand. You fucking hated algebra. Functional math, business math, that you could deal with, but derivatives and parables and all that stuff? No. Just no.
You rolled your chair back from your desk and decided it was high time for some relaxation. You walked across the hallway to the computer room, planning on fucking around on RuneScape.
Before you could get into gaming, though, you checked AIM and noticed you had a message. From Regina. What? You click the chat open and see that it's been sent a pretty long while ago.
> can i come over? daddys home
You stared at the uncharacteristic message. You two never spent time at your house back then. It was always empty and you didn't have the same fun things Regina did. Mrs George had been a significantly better cook, to add. Your toaster oven tater tots and dino nuggies couldn't compare.
But, hey, maybe this was the start of something new.
> sure > when? whenevr is fine w me
That could've all been one message but, well, here you were. You jumped in your seat when she responded almost immediately.
> omw
Shit. You shot up from the desk chair, sending it rolling to the other side of the room. You shut down the behemoth of a machine as fast as you could, which wasn't very fast, and shot down the stairs. The living room was a mess 'cause you'd spent the last few days pigging out in front of the TV, playing videogames and eating exclusively takeout.
You spent some time in the pantry trying to look for a garbage bag, time was running out, before rushing to the crime scene that was the couch. Styrofoam containers, probably some cutlery, empty bags of Cheetos and whatnot, empty cans, all that flew into the bag. You wouldn't have time to vacuum, so you just brushed the crumbs away into the couch cushions or onto the floor.
You were almost done when the doorbell rang. You had collected all the trash, but you still had to put away some of the still good leftovers. Didn't wanna waste those since you could eat it later.
"Hi!" You exclaimed, a little too riled up to seem sensible at the door. "I was just cleaning up."
"I see that." Regina drawled, eyeing the garbage bag as well as you. You'd completely forgotten about how you looked.
"Shit, sorry," You looked down at your body and the unfortunate clothes draped over it. Blue briefs with little Spidermen printed on them and a ratty grey hoodie with a devastating stain right on your chest. Your hair probably looked just as bad. You hadn't been bothered to fix up your bedhead, it was a goddamn Sunday.
"Don't worry about me." Regina, with her hands at her hips, looked at you expectantly. "So..."
"Yeah, uh, just stay here," You turned and put your sandals on. "I'll put this to the trash and, I still gotta put some things away and then you can come inside."
Regina just stared at you. You pursed your lips together and hustled past her, down the porch steps and toward the trash cans. By the time you'd hauled the bag away, you could no longer see Regina on the porch.
"Regina! I said don't go in!" You ran after her.
"Don't be ridiculous, jorts, I'm not afraid of a mess. Gosh." You could hear her from inside, probably taking her shoes off. That'd been a thing at your house always, but you didn't expect her to remember.
"Fucking- fine, okay, just..." You huffed as you spied her saunter into your living room as if she owned the place. She slumped down onto the couch, the very same you'd slept on the previous night.
You collected the food from the coffee table and moved it to the kitchen. You gave tentative sniffs to glean if they'd gone bad already. They'd only been out in the open for like, less than a day. So it was probably fine.
"When'd you order that?" Regina's voice came from behind you unexpectedly. You turned to her, caught with your nose in some noodles.
"Uh, last night..." You wiped at your nose with your sleeve.
She walked up to the container, right up in your space, and also gave it a sniff. Then she shrugged.
"I was thinking the same," You poured the noodles into Tupperware and shoved it into the fridge.
"Why's your fridge so empty? Has your dad gone bankrupt?" Regina stepped in before you could fully close the door.
"No, Reggie, he's fine. I don't have the money to stock up like your mom."
Regina turned to look at you, a displeased pout on her lips. She'd always hated it when you called her that. "I fucking hate that stupid nickname. And what do you mean you don't have the money?"
"I mean I don't have the money?" You paused in pouring beef and broccoli into another container, turning to look at her.
"Doesn't he send you money or make someone do it for you when he's away?"
You smiled a little bitterly. "He hasn't done that since I was, like, twelve." You paused. "Well, he's always sent me money but he used to have my babysitter buy groceries when I was way young."
Regina's lips twisted like she was genuinely thinking. You continued, feeling weird now that such a weirdly vulnerable conversation had been opened: "He sends me an allowance every week for groceries and school lunch, but it's not that much. If I didn't work at yours or at the shop I'd be toast." You grinned as you put on the last lid, moving to put the last two containers into the fridge too.
Regina didn't look all that amused. She was still frowning at your fridge, the rather pathetic state of it. You could admit it was pretty bleak. Two-litre bottles of various sodas, microwave meals, and an astonishing amount of condiments were not a sight that sparked hope.
"That's weird," Regina commented. "It's like you're poor but with a nice house."
"Gee, thanks so much, Reg, that makes me feel so good and seen." You drolled. "Oh, you think I have a nice house? That's nice."
"It's alright, I guess. Mine's better." Back to her usual, unthinking and overall not-that-nice persona. This was familiar territory.
"I would know. I work there." You motioned for her to follow you to the couch. "I'm gonna pick your apples soon."
"Daddy's home now. I don't know if you can." Regina sat with her shins tucked under her, leaning her side against the back of the couch. You sat a comfortable distance away, facing her with your legs crossed.
"What did your dad do again?" You asked, trying to remember.
"I don't fucking know." She gestured with her hand. "Human trafficking?"
"I hear it's a lucrative business." You grinned, enjoying talking like this with your old friend.
"We should start a company. Who'd you think would have a good price at our school?" She looked so excited at the prospect of talking shit about your peers. It was a little adorable, but in the way that a man-eating beast was. Like a devil cougar or something like that.
"I think that's eugenics, Reg." You muttered, jokingly wincing. "That's problematic."
"What, are you gonna sue me?" She leaned forward, inclining her head cheekily. "With what money?"
"With daddy's money, you fuck!" You laughed. "What money are you gonna sue me with? Wait, let me guess, uhh... Daddy's money."
"I'll have you know, it might be mommy's money." She widened her eyes dramatically as she began to tell the story. "I did some snooping around, and it just so happens daddy might not be the breadwinner after all, because-"
As Regina got into telling you about Mrs George's strange investments, which she and Kylie both had been pretty sure were pyramid schemes, you listened keenly and watched as she spun the story. She'd always been a good storyteller, good with performing and making the room pay attention to her. It was a shame she'd started to use her powers for evil.
Sitting here, Regina George on your dirty couch in her designer clothes and all, listening as she told you about the most mundane things in her life, made you feel warm in a way you hadn't in a long time. Loneliness was a quiet thing. It snuck up on you and you hadn't even noticed.
You hoped she wouldn't duck out of your life again.
Notes: Written late at night. My eyes don't work like they used to before. Might've missed some spelling errors or weird grammar. I'll return to it after I've slept. Also, in case you haven't noticed, this is firmly set in 2004. This story takes elements from both films, 2004 and 2024, but time-wise it is 2004. Another thing, I changed up the chapter titles. Originally, the first part was the prologue but then I thought about it and it really isn't like a prologue. So, that was chapter 1 and this is chapter 2. Bye-bye, party people.
Taglist: One person asked for this lmao, but I am but a servant of the people. Comment on this post if you wanna be tagged on the next part when it comes out. Disclaimer! Chapters will not usually come out this fast.
@autorasexy
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jilyandbambi · 2 months ago
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Can I just...make an embarrassing plea for nuance for a second?
As a Daniel Molloy enjoyer who's thought a lot about his relationship with his family, and his daughters, in particular, based on the few throwaway lines we've gotten, fandom jumped on the Daniel Is a Deadbeat Dad Whose Kids Hate Him train a little too readily, in my opinion. Especially since we have so few details to go off of when it comes to Daniel's life.
Look, there's obviously strong textual hints that Daniel made some pretty big mistakes in his family life, let his wives and daughters down in major ways. Maybe he was a bad father from the moment his kids were born and they have no good memories with him and now they can't wait for him to kick the bucket so they can inherit whatever's left of his estate... But also, maybe not!
There's a lot of nuance to relationships with imperfect parents that I think fandom overlooks. I'll elaborate using some of my own family's dysfunction as examples:
I have a cousin who was a Daddy's girl like me, who had a father who doted on her when she was little. But when she was in elementary school, he had a nervous breakdown after being attacked, and they lost contact while he was in and out of institutions. Now that she's an adult and he's doing better, they're trying to reconnect without much success. My cousin loves her dad very much, but he's a stranger to her, which, coupled with residual feelings of abandonment, makes it hard for her to reach out. That said, she still wants a relationship with him and looks back fondly on her childhood with him.
I have a great-aunt that I'm close to who would, off-and-on, go through extended periods of not talking to her father, my great-grandfather because he was old, sickly, losing his memory and blind in one eye, and yet as a "retired" contractor would still paint and remodel the rooms of his house, and the fact that he didn't take his health seriously stressed my aunt out to the point of seriously impacting her own mental and physical health. She loved her father dearly, but had to prioritize her own health when he proved to be unconcerned with his.
So, let's imagine for a sec that there's some gray area to play around in here.
What if Daniel was in denial in the first few years of his Parkinson's diagnosis and was still taking dangerous assignments like nothing was wrong and his daughters had to stop checking in for the sake of their sanity, which had been crumbling under the strain of sitting up at night panicking over their terminally ill father jetting off to the MENA to interview Kurdish militias for a documentary on ISIS?
What if Daniel was a doting father at first who made it to birthdays and recitals and holidays, etc. but after the girls' mom picked them up from their dad's and found used needles strewn about the coffee table one too many times, his visitation was restricted, and the relationship fell apart in the years after?
What if Daniel was a workaholic that no-showed at Christmas, birthdays, and parent-teacher conferences, but who came the fuck through when it was time to sell Girl Scout cookies (and any other school fundraiser), pulled out all the stops when either of the kids had a school project that required tons of research (in the days before Internet, mind you), and was fully down to stalk their high school/college boyfriends with them to see if they were cheating?
What if Daniel was a workaholic who sometimes freebased coke on weekends he had the girls and forgot to pick them up from school and missed every birthday party, but also would bring the girls to work with him all the time and when he did, they'd see their old artwork pinned to the walls of his office and his colleagues would congratulate one on the regional Spelling Bee one of them came first place in and the other on getting her blue belt in karate. Yeah, Daniel wasn't there for any of those but the fact that he cared enough to brag about it at work...yeah. What if Daniel let them skip school on days when middle/high school was just Too Much, and they'd go to Coney Island and ride The Cyclone til they forgot about Jennifer inviting everyone else on the swim team to her party.
Here's another thing: while yes, Daniel puts a premium on truth and honesty and has a blunt, pull no punches manner of speaking--old people are fucking DRAMATIC. Daniel's daughters are adults with busy lives of their own. Meanwhile, he's stuck at home bored out of his mind in retirement. What if his relationship with them is fine (all things considered) but they take a week to respond to his texts because hello? busy. Do any of you have grandparents who are retired? The other day I was informed that I'm "bad at texting" because it took me a few hours to reply to a message asking me if I watch The Diplomat. What if "My daughters won't even talk to me!" is just Daniel being miffed that neither of the girls had responded to his text in their Groupchat asking if they'd had a chance to check out his Masterclass yet?
Look, all this is to say, dysfunctional parent-child relationships are of course, messy and painful, especially if the parent was less-than-stellar during the child's formative years--but that doesn't mean that that's all there is. Oftentimes, there's a lot of good mixed in with the bad; and there's almost always a lot of love and a mutual desire to mend things in the time you have left. Every relationship on IWTV has its highs and lows, both joyful and devastating moments and memories. There's no reason the same can't apply to the relatively blank slate of Daniel Molloy and his daughters' relationship
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jesswritesthat · 3 months ago
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Sakusa Kiyoomi: Part of the Plan
Fandom: Haikyuu!! — [ Masterlist ]
Summary: ~0.8k, fluff
• You didn’t think helping a friend would ever lead you to be in demand from elite athlete Sakusa Kiyoomi, yet here you are.
Warnings: Post time skip spoilers.
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It was a soothing walk home you'd taken that evening, enjoying the fresh fragrance of the season when a brief interaction outside your apartment building caused you tilt your head and slow you pace.
"Oh here they are now!"
Your neighbour giddily shouted, pointing in your direction as evidence to the tall man beside her who then turned around. You recognised the athlete immediately, even without his signature teams' clothing draping his toned form.
"You made this meal plan?" It was direct, straight to the point, with recognisable scribbles held out before you.
It was apart of the plan you'd tailored for Atsumu, covering various nutritional aspects to help maintain energy and physique during the upcoming volleyball season. That damn blonde must've left it lying around at practice. You’ll get him back next time you hang out together but right now you held the prickly attention of his teammate.
"Oh yeah, I thought I was missing a page." Gratefully, you accepted the parchment with a polite smile whilst Sakusa shoved his hands in his pockets and spoke observantly through his mask.
"It's detailed, you know what you're doing."
"It's nothing overly professional but it does the job."
"It does more than that, I remember you always used to help out the volleyball team in middle school." He'd offhandedly mentioned, tilting his head slightly as if reminiscing - he was right, you were a year below and had volunteered to help the sports clubs when you could but you didn't think it'd be memorable.
Let alone to someone as antisocial and incredible as him, a top 5 Ace of the nation in Itachiyama.
"You recognise me?"
"You used a Hello Kitty plaster for my graze when first aid had run out of proper ones." This was said with what you assumed to be a disgruntled look since you couldn't see beyond his mask.
"It was a proper plaster. Just with more personality." You quipped back rather proudly, the player furrowing his brows slightly and responding with a hint of bemusement (you'd hoped).
"You said something similar back then, and I still disagree."
It was a slightly palpable silence that remained after that, unsure of how to react to Sakusa as a person rather than someone you'd considered out of reach quite yet. Thus he continued with an awkward clearing of his throat.
"Anyway, I was looking for you."
"To return my meal plan?" You instantly questioned, as if trying to aid the situation but he only shook his head before elaborating.
"To ask if you'd personalise one for me."
"Don't you have professionals for that?"
As a MSBY Black Jackals player, you’d expected them to have every amenity available to them in order to maximise performance - so for him to request such expertise from you was rather perplexing.
"I'm a picky eater." It wasn't as forward as answers you'd previously received, suggesting he was a little embarrassed about this disclosure.
"You're really gonna make this easy for me if I accept, aren’t you?" You retorted sarcastically, a raised brow sent his way but he remained unphased.
"I thought you may be looking to do this as a career, become a sport nutritionist?"
"Well I hadn't really thought that far ahead..."
Sakusa studied you thoughtfully, as if you were a new concept to his world that he didn’t understand yet, but he certainly wanted to try.
"Well as I progress, people will be interested in what I'm doing unfortunately. But it'll bring business your way."
It was considerate of him (even if he was repulsed by the idea of attention) to think about how the arrangement would benefit you also, it is an aspiring nutritions dream offer after all. Yet he presented no pressure, waiting patiently even if your casual shrug and acknowledgment wasn’t a conclusive decision.
"I mean as a Division 1 player, you're quite popular already."
"Think about it. Here's my number, give me a call if you change your mind." Sakusa gave you a slip with his contact information, burying his hands deep in his pockets once more and diverted his gaze away from you. "Or even if you don't."
"Thank you Sakusa, it was nice talking to you again."
The Spiker didn't respond verbally, instead nodding softly accompanied by a wave of his hand when walking away.
Your neighbour rejoined your side from where she’d retreated to, previously leaning against the building entrance steps with a joyous skip toward you and girly squeal to match.
"Did you just get Sakusa Kiyoomis' number?!"
"Yeah. For work."
"He came looking for you, he literally asked Miya-san for your address to return your plan himself. Then MSBYs' top spiker Sakusa Kiyoomi gave you his personal number." She reiterated again, adding emphasis and dramatics to the statement as if you'd failed to realise the weight of it.
"..." You glared discreetly, your neighbour far too enthused by such a thing, which was translated through your deadpan tone. "You're too excited about this."
"I don't think you're excited enough about this."
You ran your thumb over his elegant writing as you looked at the slip once again, a gentle smile subconsciously working its way to your lips at the thought.
“Maybe you’re right…”
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[ Masterlist ]
A/N: I have more… if you want…?
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