#that its important they continue to go through things together

[noblechaton]

Fic title: Your Pain is My Pain

I'm seeing something post-canon (as in, somewhere post-Strikers) that sees the Phantom Thieves finally getting a break from the constant madness of the metaverse and thereon, each finding their own sort of reprieve in the aftermath of several cataclysmic events - Haru focuses up on her gardening, Ann spends time with Shiho, Yusuke dives into his artwork and Ryuji continues working on himself. Everything's calm, for once, and normalcy starts to creep back in - but that doesn't sit right with everyone. Amid her attempts to live a more outgoing life among her fellow citizens, Futaba can't help but keep tabs on Ren, himself having ended up living a relatively close distance to the others after all. While that quiet, somewhat stern behavior of his remains on the surface, she and the others come to profess worry over their former leader and best friend - after all of that, despite what's changed and the catharsis he might have felt alongside all the help he'd given them, it's not as if he'd really decompressed, as far as they knew, with who knows how much otherwise bottled up inside.

So they send Makoto over, dragging him out of his apartment and spending the day with him on the town. They reminisce over all that's happened throughout trips to the familiar places, the movie theater, Big Bang Burger, etc., but he doesn't seem to crack until he realizes that Makoto's taking him back to Leblanc for the first time in however long. Ren's expression shifts from subtle and restrained to something more uncertain, almost anxious as they approach the doors, some obvious silhouettes distorted by the glass. It processes then what all of this has been for, why she'd led him through town and avoided the topic of the others for so long. Makoto takes him by the hand and asks him if he wants to go inside, fingers between his own and her eyes soft on his. Silence falls as a gentle rain starts right on the verge of dusk, the moon above blocked by the clouds as they stand for what feels like eternity.

"Yes," Ren's lip trembles with his eventual, inevitable answer. "Let's...get inside."

All the bracing in the world couldn't quite prepare him for the welcoming faces that greet him, that invite him into a booth and supply him the finest cup of coffee in Yongen-Jaya. It's been a few months since he'd last seen everyone, and yet they all behave as if they'd not missed a beat. Ryuji makes a few bad jokes, Yusuke makes things weird, Ann and Haru offer gifts from their own professions - something stupid expensive and somewhat useless from Ann, a bouquet of flowers mixed with vegetables from Haru. Sojiro keeps the food and drink coming, while Futaba is the one who eventually settles the group down enough to confront the issue at hand, getting their attention with a loud clearing of her throat before she nods behind him.

Makoto eases her arms onto Ren's shoulders then, warmly asking him if he'd like to talk. When he tries to downplay and otherwise avoid the subject, the others nudge him back. Ann encourages, Haru assures, Ryuji affirms and Yusuke - in his own way - inspires. Ren's head dips some, his eyes to one side in a glance towards a Sojiro who shrugs him on. Ren then sits upright again, a twinge of red on his face as he finally, fully speaks his mind. He'd not been silent before, he was often blunt about things, but in this moment, he's allowed to fully process the utter insanity that's been his last few years now, the group listening and replying where they can and where best it fits. He talks and talks and talks some more, of Maruki, of Kasumi, of Akechi. Ren exhausts himself, a glance at his watch revealing that, for a change, he'd been the one talking for a near hour straight, with some tears having subtly welled up in his eyes. He's clearly embarrassed afterwards, but finds himself surrounded. One hand in Ann's, the other in Haru's with Yusuke across from him, sketching out his own inspiration from Ren's flood of emotions. Ryuji places a palm to a shoulder while Makoto rests one on the opposite side and Futaba, who'd earlier slipped onto his side of the booth, leans against him

His friends insist that it's okay, each sharing looks with him in their encouragement, that it's alright - it's alright for him to feel, outwardly, like this, given all they'd been through. Ren's somewhat unfamiliar with this, but comes to relent - he holds hands back, leaning into the touch of his friends with a slight smile across his face as they all share and repeat the sentiment that his pain is their pain, and that they'll all be alright, together.

[pkmoth]

having swap au thoughts. *slaps roof of claus* there's so much mental illness in this guy. im gonna blow up everyone in the room and then myself

[ghostdeals]

It bother me so much that people misunderstand sayaka miki's descent into madness in madoka magica. She doesnt become a witch "just because of a boy." Sayaka is a character who ties all her self worth into being in service of others. We can see this right from the start with her idolization of mami and everything that she was. She saw mami as this "perfect hero" even though mami i would say is mentally the weakest of the holy quintet. In the timelines where mami finds out about the incubator's true goals she always immediately breaks and goes crazy, trying to kill the other girls in her own twisted way of trying to "save them". Instead of seeing the fragile person that mami was, sayaka instead sort of treats her as a martyr, a goal to achieve. We continue on to sayaka's magical girl wish. Instead of wishing for something for herself, she instead sells her soul for the sake of kyousuke. Then when he starts dating hitomi she spirals not because she's sad about the rejection but because she feels replaced in his life, that he doesn't need or want her around anymore. Then she throws herself into her magical girl work not seeing that she's harming herself because she justifies it with "well im saving people that means what im doing is a good thing." She doesn't see that she's becoming more sloppy, more ruthless until its too late. It's only in the end when she turns into a witch that her story gets resolved.

Sayaka Miki is an incredibly sad character to me. While her actions have the illusion of being selfless and "for the greater good" she is actually incredibly selfishly motivated. Everything she does is in service of wanting praise and admiration from the people she cares about. If she helps kyousuke he'll appreciate her and love her, if she becomes a hero she'll receive praise and admiration for being a good person. This is why it is important that of all people it was kyoko that fought sayaka in the end. To homura, sayaka is someone to be saved. To mami, sayaka is her sweet apprentice/younger sister figure. To madoka, sayaka is her energetic and happy go lucky friend. Kyoko is the only one who from the start called sayaka out on her bullshit, seeing straight through her. And at the end, kyoko is the one who truly accepts sayaka. Sayaka as the witch Oktavia von Seckendorff is stated multiple times in official material to be "looking for love." In the end it it kyoko who gives her that love. Even when sayaka has lost her humanity it is kyoko who accepts her for the entirety of who sayaka is with all of her selfishness and desires. She is the one who sees what sayaka has become and stays together with her till both of their ends. Kyoko choosing to die with sayaka is her saying "I'm here for you, i know all of you, and I will love you regardless."

[fluffyartbl0g]

FUCKED UP BEETLE

PROBLEM

So you're having a totally fine day by all accounts and then it instantly goes to shit just because you pass by a fucked up beetle hidden in the grass. You've seen bugs dead all the time, so what. So what if its torn up wings and cracked shell definitely mean that some random kids fucked it up before it died. So what if your dad was drunk and high all the time and screamed at you and you fucked C over and you fuck everything up. SO WHAT. No amount of therapy or 'healthy coping mechanisms' or 'unpacking of trauma' will ever erase the ultimate truth underneath. You are intrinsically, hopelessly fucked.

-3 Volition: Fucked in the head

SOLUTION

You're going to wake up the next morning totally fine again. In fact, Harry's probably going to put some extra effort into making breakfast nice to cheer you up--which will actually kind of annoy you, but in a way that makes you feel all fuzzy and warm. Sure, you still get stuck in your head sometimes about sad shit, but you're dealing with it better and better, and the days where you actually feel like someone are beginning to far outnumber the days you don't. For now, you hug him a little bit tighter. You're safe now.

-1 Composure: Permanently a little bit fucked

+2 Volition: You're going to be okay

_

transcript under read more

VARIOUS CANDY WRAPPERS SPLAYED OUT ON THE TABLE: The label reads 'BLUE DREAM'. Unlike what its colour may suggest, it is not flavoured a blueberry or bubblegum, but vanilla.

[A red orb appears above Harry's head]

SHIVERS [Impossible: Success] - The air has been shifted ever so slightly. He's trying to breathe correctly, but blurs of thought keep flickering through his mind. This continued for the entire thirteen minute trek home.

PERCEPTION [Medium: Success] - A loud thunk rattles across the room as Cuno closes the door, he looks out of breath

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - He's barely holding it together

CUNO - He looks up at you with a yelp, "Fuckin hell! Wasn't the pig supposed to be out investigating some shit?"

SUGGESTION [Medium: Success] - He didn't want you seeing him like this, answer his question, he'll leave if you ask him about it first.

1. "Did something happen?"

2. "You look like you ran a damn marathon kid, what's up?"

3. "I had to quickly come back to snag some important evidence for the case" (point to various candy wrappers)

CUNO - He scrunches his brow "That mean you're getting your ass outta Cuno's face soon?"

DRAMA [Easy: Fail] - Wow. He didn't even ask about the wrappers!

EMPATHY [Difficult: Success] - He doesn't want to be alone

1. "Did something happen?"

PERCEPTION [Difficult: Fail] - Cuno's hands tremble as he mumbles out a whisper of words you can't make out

1. Cuno?

[Harry reaches out to comfort him, but Cuno sees this and snaps at him]

CUNO - "NOTHING FUCKING HAPPENED ALRIGHT? THINGS HAVE BEEN FUUUCKIN PEACHY TODAY"

"CUNO GOT A FUCKIN A ON HIS ESSAY, ABSOLUTELY WENT DOWN ON A DELICIOUS FUCKIN KEBAB YA HEAR?

CUNO - He pauses. "Nothin fuckin happened today. It's all me. Cuno's the one thats all fucked up"

He starts choking up by the end of that,

(a yellow orb is seen above Harry's head as he looks at cuno breaking down [it's reaction speed])

Harry hugs him

CUNO - "Fuck"

KUUNO - He hugs back tightly

[fastandcarlos]

Study Hard : ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc

summary: as proud as he is as you near the end of your degree, charles can’t help but worry about the levels you’re pushing yourself to in order to achieve it

The sight that greeted him was far from what Charles expected to see, walking into your apartment Charles was met by you, busying yourself on the sofa with books stacked as far as the eye could see. 

“Have you left that spot all day?” Charles asked, having left you there hours ago. 

“I got myself a drink a while ago,” you responded, not tearing your eyes from your book as you carefully read through the page. 

A sigh came from George as you found what you were looking for, picking up your laptop and typing away the source. Knowing that you’d only got yourself a drink immediately left Charles concerned, you were working yourself incredibly hard, and despite him continually reminding you to take care of yourself, it seemed as if you were doing anything but. 

The end was in sight for you now, but Charles was becoming increasingly concerned that you wouldn’t reach that end if you continued to work yourself as hard as you were doing currently. 

Charles sorted himself out, putting his keys away and slipping off his shoes before trying to find a space on the sofa where he could sit.  

“Love,” Charles whispered, poking against your arm as your eyes finally glanced across to look at him. 

“Sorry, sorry,” you muttered, putting everything down for a moment, even if you didn’t really want to. “How was your day? Did you have a good practice run?” 

“It was good,” he weakly smiled, “how’s your day been? You look busy.” 

“There’s lots to be getting on with,” you told him, pointing to all your books and paperwork, “but I’ve been getting a few breaks in and making sure that I stop for a while,” you then assured Charles, although he was far from convinced.  

“Right,” Charles hummed, his eyes studying you closely as you were itching to return to your laptop. “How about I go and get sorted and then we can do something together?” 

“Yeah, that would be nice,” you smiled, watching as Charles stood up from where he was sat. “I’ve only got this little bit left to do and then I can put all of this away for a little while.” 

Charles rushes to get himself sorted, hurrying down the stairs, hopeful that everything is tidy for you two to hang out. But it is anything but. 

You still looked as if you hadn’t moved when Charles came downstairs, you didn’t even notice him reappearing as he stood and watched you, his arms folded in front of his chest as he tried to not let you see just how frustrated he was becoming with you. 

Charles gives you a moment, wondering if maybe you need to just finish something, but when you pick up yet another book, his patience seems to run out with you. 

“Come on, time to stop with this for a while,” Charles encourages, going to pick something up. 

You leap across and snatch it from Charles, placing the paper back in its rightful stop. “You can’t just move these things Charles, they’re important.” 

“I’m well aware of how important this degree is to you love, but aren’t I important too?” Charles questioned, throwing his arms up in frustration. 

You stop what you’re doing, placing everything down as your hands run over the top of your head. You’d been working incredibly hard, some would argue a little too hard, and perhaps Charles had a point that you were beginning to forget about the man who always took such good care of you. 

As you remain silent, Charles moves closer to you, worried that he’s ended up upsetting you more than he intended. “Why don’t we put this away for the night?” 

Your head shook back at Charles, “I’ve still got so much to do.” 

“Really?” 

“I’m still lacking in sources for this to be a credible dissertation, I’m so far off the word count it’s embarrassing, and I’ve not even proofread any of what I wrote today,” you began to explain to him. “There’s only a few weeks left and if I don’t start pulling my finger out to get this done then there’s no way I’m going to get my degree, and if I don’t get my degree, I can’t get the job, and then who knows what I’ll do?” You fret, rambling away to Charles as you let your concerns get the better of you. “I don’t mean to do all of this and leave us doing nothing but if I don’t get on then I’m just going to end up further behind everyone else Charles.” He reached across and took a hold of your hand before he could let you rant any further, sensing that you were beginning to get yourself overwhelmed.  

“Babe, just listen to me,” Charles whispered, pulling you closely into his side. “You’re doing incredibly well, but you’re going to end up sick if you carry on like this.” 

“Charles I-” 

“No,” Charles continued, pressing a kiss against the top of your head. “It’s inspiring seeing how much this means to you, but you’ve still got to make sure that you’re prioritising yourself my love.” 

“I don’t know what to do,” you admitted as your voice began to falter, moving even closer into Charles. “Every time I try and relax and stop stressing, I just end up overthinking all the things I still have to do.” 

Charles let you vent, he lets you debrief, knowing it’s what’s been bubbling for so long. You’d tried to pretend that you were fine for so long, but Charles knew you much better than that. 

“It’s alright,” Charles whispered as he leant back on the sofa with you, moving you away from all of your books. 

“I’m exhausted with all this,” you sighed, burying into Charles’ chest. 

“I know you are, I know it’s hard,” Charles sympathised, knowing better than anyone how hard you were pushing yourself, “let’s not fret about this anymore tonight.” 

“Y-you’re right,” you stuttered, feeling Charles press a kiss against the top of your head, “can I just leave all this here?” 

“Let’s head to bed,” Charles suggested, knowing the thought of tidying up all of your mess was enough to potentially tip you over the edge. 

You don’t even protest as Charles takes your hand and helps you up from the sofa to wander over to the stairs. You allow him to guide you, your steps lazy and slow as you finally realise just how tired your body is. Everything aches, from your mind to your toes after cramping up on the sofa for most of the afternoon, you’re ready to just shut down from everything that’s been going on. 

It takes a moment for you to really allow yourself to forget the work that is scattered around your living room, but Charles doesn’t let you look back for long before walking you up the stairs and straight for your bedroom, knowing it’s the perfect place for you to be. 

Once you’re there, you flop down, Charles quickly joining you. He immediately takes on the role of big spoon and brings you into his chest, squeezing you as tightly as he can to take your mind off of things. 

“This is where we should be,” Charles mused as he rested his head on top of yours, “I forgot how nice it was to cuddle up to you, you’ve left me starved of affection for so long.” 

Your eyes roll at Charles’ dramatics, something he can tell you’re doing after so long together. Best of all though, Charles could feel you relaxing in his hold which was the only thing that he wanted for you. 

“Thank you for always looking out for me, even though I’m a pain,” you whispered back to Charles, “this will all be over soon enough.” 

“I just want you to be careful,” Charles reminded you, “I’m beyond proud of you, but I don’t want to see all your hard work see you hurt yourself too.” 

“I promise that I’ll take better care of myself.” 

“And I’ll make sure that I’m right there with you to take care of you too babe.” 

“What would I do without you?” You chuckled as your eyes began to close. 

Charles went to reply but soon noticed you settling down, deciding to fall silent and finally let you get some well-deserved sleep, with Charles right there when you woke up. 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[katsukistofu]

USER KATSUKISTOFU, WRITE A HANTA SERO PIECE, AND MY LIFE IS YOURSSSS‼️🙏🫡

all eye wanted was you

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ s. hanta x fem reader. fluff. ★ sero reminds you of a few important things that your all-seeing quirk overlooks.

“So you’re not dating him?” The girl in front of you asks again to clarify. She’s either from General Studies or the Business course you think, you honestly don’t really remember and don’t care.

You heave a sigh. “You asked that already, I said no the first time.”

At this point you’d assume the conversation would be over, but of course she opens her mouth again.

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I asked him out, right?”

Your head’s starting to throb and you force your tone to be calm. “Sorry, but do you understand the definition of not dating—“

“Uh, yeah she would.”

A familiar voice speaks, and your eyes widen as you make contact with its source, your best friend. “Sero? What are you doing here?”

“Making sure people don’t have the wrong idea of us.” He offers you a sly grin, tugging you closer by the sleeve of your uniform.

“How is this making sure people don’t have the wrong idea of us?” You hiss, placing your hands on his unfairly firm chest to stop yourself from colliding with it. With a quick glance around, it seems like the girl is gone.

“Hmm.” Sero’s smirk only deepens on his pretty lips. He did this on purpose to have you alone to himself, didn’t he? “Didn’t see you complaining when we pretended to be together to get a discount for tatts.”

“Their prices for hypothetically single people were crazy!” Your cheeks burn as his fingers trail over a spot on the fabric of your school uniform.

The skin underneath burns as he continues to trace the almost exact pattern of your tattoo, like he has it memorized from when you both showed each other right after getting them done at the parlor.

Sero playfully fidgets with the hair tie on your wrist that he let you steal from him earlier as he continues. “Or when I told the waiter at that fancy restaurant you were my girlfriend and that he couldn’t give you his number, but we’d love to take the couple’s deal instead.”

“That’s different!” You protest weakly, sounding unbelievable even to your own ears.

“What, are you going to play with my hair, like how you always do when you get stressed?” He murmurs, gently tilting your chin up to force you to meet his eyes.

You curse as you realize he’s right, somehow your finger has already found its own way to twirl one of his dark locks.

Sero’s dusky eyes darken with a hint of hurt.

“How long are you going to keep pretending?” His voice is painfully soft.

“I don’t know, I’m just…“ You take shuddering breath. “I’m scared, I guess.”

“Scared of what?” Sero’s brows furrow. “Is it because of that rando? Because you could easily take her, I’ve seen you with some strong ass villains—“

You laugh and smack his bicep. “No, dummy! I’m scared because…” Your voice hesitates, and he hugs your waist tighter.

“Use your words, sweetheart.”

Your breath catches as he uses that tone. “Okay now you’re just being unfair.”

“Hey, I’ll beg if I have to.” He grins before faking a drop down to his knees.

You squeal as his strong arms take you with him, only to come back up and steady you, and he chuckles as you smack him.

“Okay, I’ll tell you! I’m scared because I don’t want to end up pretending like we don’t know each other when we break up. You mean a lot to me, and I think,” You mumble as your finger continues to play with a button on his dress shirt. “I think that would really mess me up.”

“You mean a lot to me too.” Sero’s eyes soften. “And if we break up.”

“Nothing lasts forever, Sero.”

“Let’s prove them wrong then.” He brushes his knuckles across your cheek with such tenderness that it hurts. “Baby, why are you so worried about a future that won’t happen?”

“Because I’ve seen it happen to people.” There’s a worried frown on your face as all your past visions from your Quirk flash through your mind. “One moment everything’s going fine, then it all falls apart. Fate runs its course. I don’t want that to happen to us.”

“Forget fate, I want you.” He cups your cheeks, and you huff as you’re sandwiched between his hands. “It’s hot when you get all Doomsday on me, but I think you’re overthinking it.”

You let out a giggle, realizing he’s right. Nothing is ever set in stone, and you knew that your powers would cause you to be predisposed to anxiously anticipate things, even ones far from your current time.

He’s always reminded you to breathe, like now.

“I want you to focus on the present in that pretty little head of yours, okay?” Sero’s warm, caramel voice tickles your ear. “Can you do that for me?”

“Okay.” You whisper from where your head’s tucked under his chin, clutching his uniform in your hands. “I really want you too.”

He breathes a relieved laugh into your hair. “That’s good. So I can say it now right?”

You bury a smile into his shoulder and his lips tug upward as well when he feels it. “Go ahead.”

Sero takes a deep breath.

“Can I be your boyfriend?”

The butterflies in your stomach flutter while you stand on your tip toes, and to your delight his pupils are blown out and his cheeks are already flushed before you even lean in to give them a kiss.

“Yes. In every future, yes.”

[disneyprincemuke]

fly on the wall * fem!driver

she crashes in her third race of her f1 career, but she's more concerned about its repercussions than the concussion

pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver, lewis hamilton x fem!reader

warnings: crashing the car

notes: ooooh my god i had to rewrite this 5 times because it wasn't up to my liking initially, and then tumblr was having some issues saving my shit so i lost it?? it's very sad fr

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

"are you alright?" sebastian's voice comes onto the radio.

his eyes are trained on the big screen, cameras focused on the car parked into the wall out of a turn. he couldn't get an answer out of his driver so he had to resort to the third party.

if his assumptions are correct, she would have hit her head on her seat hard at impact. but things like that can lead to so many bigger things that he might not even be prepared for. 

her vision slowly returns, blacking out for a mere second as the car went into the barriers of the baku track.

she had issues with her brakes for a few laps. sebastian had suggested retiring the car if she didn't feel safe, but she pressed on. the issue didn't seem so serious and it seemed manageable.

at first. 

it's a driver error - missing the early braking point to accommodate her already tweaking brakes. she missed it by a millisecond, clipped the wall and got sent straight into the wall.

she sighs, pressing the button on her steering wheel. "i'm okay," she answers shakily, tears now filling her eyes.

"okay, that's the important part. don't think about anything else. i'll see you in the medical centre." sebastian is quick to shut her thoughts down, clearly prioritising her wellbeing and not the car.

"i'm sorry," she sighs, voice shaking and lips quivering. “i’m so sorry, seb.”

this is only her third race in f1, how could she have already crashed out? on a race where she was so close to that podium. it would have been such a monumental moment — a woman on the podium. 

with 20 laps left in the race and her in 5th place, it wasn’t all that far out of reach at the time. yet, here she is causing a yellow flag as she starts to notice the smoke surrounding her. 

"like i said. don't think about anything else."

she sighs to herself as a marshal appears above her halo, greeting her with a soft smile. she nods, letting herself get helped out of her car.

but only one thought eats away at her: she crashed on her third race. what's everyone going to say about her now?

“let me talk,” sebastian sighs, hands up in the air as he tries to calm the girl sitting on the examination bed. he’s barely able to get a word in.

she’s slouched against the wall, purple balaclava in her hands as she traces the thread that holds it together at the hem. the minute he walked in, she looked up immediately with tears in her eyes and a string of apologies.

it hasn’t stopped since he poked his head through the door, cutting him off before he could even ask if she’s okay. 

“do you not see the problem?” she shrieks, eyebrows furrowing at sebastian. “i just crashed out! imagine what the media has to say about my performance today? they’re just going to use this as a reason to justify that i shouldn’t be on the track!”

sebastian drops his hands to his side, deciding that he��d just let her get it all off her chest. it might make her feel better. 

though, it doesn’t make him feel good that she’s continually talking down on herself. he vouched for her for weeks for a reason, and it’s because he believes in her. more than she does in herself, it seems. 

“i didn’t work my ass off my whole life just to be undermined because i’m a woman!” she tosses the balaclava aside, now picking at the loose skin by her fingernails. “i didn’t get this far for everyone to count me out because of one crash! can you fucking believe that shit? it’s a fucking rookie mistake, seb! i’ve been racing for years!”

she drops her hands by her side and groans again, rolling her eyes. “i’ve earned my rightful spot to be where i am! they are not going to care about that!”

sebastian shrugs slightly, overlooked by the infuriated woman across him. he can barely get a breath in before she continues, shutting his mouth immediately as she continues her rampage. 

“imagine the headlines tomorrow! a driver is as good as their last race — i know that! don’t try to sugarcoat it. you know i’m right!” she rambles on, eyes darting all over the room. she’s pushed herself off the wall slightly, clearly flustered over the course of events. 

she avoids sebastian’s eyes, the fear of fully breaking down in front of him prominent. crying over a crash seemed like such a silly thing to do, but there’s no denying how demanding the sport truly is. 

in her short three races in the season and people’s neverending criticism of her abilities, it makes her lie awake at night rethinking her position on the grid. 

following her crash, sebastian hadn’t expected for her to ramble on for this long. he initially thought that the crash would have sent her into a shocking silence, so while her anger is warranted, it was definitely not on his list of things to be ready for. 

“imagine what they have to say about me!” she throws her hands in the air, scratching her head gently. “imagine what they’ll say about you! it’s not going to be good, trust me! i’m a woman in a fucking racing car in a male-dominated sport!”

“hey!” sebastian’s voice bounces in the room, making her lift her head with her eyes narrowed into a glare. 

the sudden movement reminds her of her restrictions, hands coming up to nurse the back of her neck. she feels a sharp pain shoot through her head all the way down to her shoulders. “what?” she hisses, quickly looking down to hide the pain. 

“you literally just crashed head-first into a wall at 250 kilometres per hour! you’re lucky all you got was a concussion and whiplash! it could’ve been worse!”

“if i was lucky, i’d have been able to recover and get on the podium as we discussed! i was already 5th!”

“and you didn’t! that’s okay! you learn from things like these!”

“no, it’s not! i’m already hated as it is!”

“it’s part of the sport! fernando alonso has crashed, lewis has, and so have max and charles! every other big name in formula 1 has had their fair share! you’ll be okay!”

she finally meets sebastian’s eyes, slouching even more as she audibly sighs. he watches her body deflate, leaning back dejectedly. “it’s still different.”

she’s still in her fireproofs. her race suit had to be taken off during her short time with the doctor, hanging on the back of the plastic chair in the small medical room. her helmet sits next to her, underneath the balaclava she’d thrown on top of it. 

her hair is in a loose ponytail with stray hairs poking out and resting on her face. the adrenaline has yet to leave her body, chest heaving as if it’d just been over and beads of sweat still scattered all over her.

“i know it’s different. but everyone else who says whatever isn’t the person behind the wheel, you have to remember that,” he says in a soothing tone, finally coming up to stand next to her. he sighs, putting a hand on top of her head. “and i know it sucks.”

she shakes her head. “no, you don’t. we’re different; our problems are different.”

“the way they used to hate me, and things they say about you are different, yes,” sebastian nods in a low voice, his thumb now tracing circles on her head. “but you still can prove them wrong. you just started driving in formula 1 — you’ll have way more chances to shut them all up.”

“i could’ve already. if i just controlled the car a little better.”

“it’s okay.” he slides himself onto the examination bed, sitting next to her. he intertwines his fingers and rests his hands on his thigh. “everybody crashes at one point in their career.

“let the media say what they want, but not all that criticise you have been in a race before. nobody on that grid thinks you’re lesser than you are just because of what happened today.”

“you don’t know that.”

sebastian just shakes his head, refusing to elaborate any further. he leans back into the wall as well. “oscar is on the way with some snacks for you.”

crashing out during a race is never easy. years before he decided to retire, tapping and crashing out of a race has always been demoralising. it always feels like the first time when he does.

“i don’t need snacks. i need to go back to 4 hours ago when i was still on track for a podium finish in the first half of my rookie season.”

“with your talent, i can assure you that this will not be your only opportunity in formula 1. i will make sure of it, of course. wherever i go, you go.”

the door creaks open, cutting her off before she can throw an answer back as sebastian. “i’ve got your favourite snacks. i also stole a couple of twix bars from your backpack, i hope you don’t mind.”

“well, why’d you take them and still tell me about it knowing i wouldn’t even have given it to you in the first place?” she reaches for the nearest object next to her, yanking it towards oscar by the door. 

“because it was calling my name,” he shrugs, pushing the door fully open to reveal who he’s strung along to the medical centre. 

“i took a packet of haribo,” logan shrugs as he steps in. he flinches when she clenches her fist, scrambling to pull something out of his paper bag. “but i got you a can of sprite to make up for it! don’t be mad!”

her gaze softens when she notices lewis hamilton standing behind her friends, a paper bag hanging on his fingers as he grins at her. 

“how are you, sweetie?” his voice is empathetic and low, giving her a look that she’d seen from everyone she’s passed on her way here. 

she sees lewis and sebastian exchange glances, almost making her roll her eyes again. 

she doesn’t talk to lewis that often, but he has addressed her before when she would trail behind sebastian on the track. she would often greet him softly as she hid behind her mentor, or simply excuse herself when she sees either oscar or logan passing by. 

he’s a role model and the last thing she ever wanted to do was be too overbearing. to see him come to her aid is only a dream come true. 

“i hope you don’t beat yourself up because of that. you drove a brilliant race today,” he smiles. “everybody crashes out. don’t even care what others have to say about you. you did well.”

lewis understands being cast out as a minority. he will never understand the struggles and pressure put on her, but he can at least relate to a certain extent. “don’t even sweat it. you’re now one of the world’s greatest in a fast race car. you’d smoke anybody who would dare challenge you.”

oscar tilts his head. “why would someone random just challenge her out on the street?”

“oscar, shut up,” logan shoves the australian slightly, landing a warning smack on his shoulder after. “let her have her moment.”

lewis laughs but does wave oscar off as he returns his attention to her. “what they say will string, but trust me, this is not the end of the world. i know it feels like it.”

she nods to herself. “okay, hand me the snacks so i can eat away all my pain. i deserve it.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock

[kujiba]

¡MAY THE LAND CONCEAL YOU, DEAR GRACE!

୨୧ — ꒰ gn!reader | they/them prounouns | Sagau | cultish behavior

A/n: I made this while drunk /jk

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 5

Were you high? Possibly.

Did you feel like you were floating? 50/50

You stared directly at the glowing screen plastered infront of you, with your eyes full of focus.

CHOOSE YOUR ELEMENT: ELECTRO, HYDRO, PYRO, DENDRO, ANEMO, GEO, CRYO

'Ah.. This will be hard' You thought to yourself while nodding and looking away from it. Gazing your eyes back on the screen you either were highly delusional right now or...

You had been gifted the ultimate weapon! A system!

You're not a dumbass you've seen those novels, tv's, Mangas, animes, manwha, all that kind of stuff! So you had some bits and pieces on how to roll with this new kind of power.

Back to the main problem... Which element should you pick? Every element in the game is highly valuable and could be used with many different ways. The question is what would benefit you more in the situation you've been put upon.

Currently you had been locked in a cell by whoever knocked you unconscious, but your suspicion leaned more in the knights of favonius. You shaked your head telling yourself to deal with the problems one by one.

"Damn.. Which do I choose" You clenched your lips together tightly and scratched your chin with your own finger. Being indecisive and having a bit of a problem to choose from the choices given to you by the system.

You knew you had to pull your ultimate move.

"Innie, Minnie, Miny, moe..." You mumbled while your finger hopped it's way to each element on the screen "Catch a tiger by its toe if it hollows let it Go, Innie, Minnie Miny, moe." Your finger slowed down by the second and finally took a halt when the song ended.

You looked at the element carefully too see what the fate has given you!

"DENDRO"

YAHOO!!

Your excitement honestly didn't come from the element you choose but the thought you could have your own powers and vision!!

"Gimme DENDRO!" You declared to the system with a prideful voice, A systematic noise rang through your ears in a unpleasant way, soon after the noise came to a halt, a small glowing jeweled amulet began to descend from the air.

"Holy..!" You stared in awe as the jewel gently dropped to your hands. A familiar glowing green vision with it's outer areas decorated uniquely in a high quality silver material.

Quickly enough the system box appeared in front of you yet again.

"CONGRATULATIONS, LEVEL UP TO UNLOCK MORE SKILLS, POWER, AND ITEMS"

The system then showed a long box filled with words and numbers that you immediately understood from your long gaming experience.

[NAME]

Lvl 1 / 20

Max HP: 929

ATK: 34

DEF: 21

Elemental Mastery: 0

Max stamina: 240

Crit rate: 5%

Crit DMG: 50%

Energy Recharge: 300%

"..."

GODDAMN! Why was your energy Recharge so high?... Actually no- that isn't a bad thing, it'll be good for you to just keep spamming your burst till the enemy drops dead.

Your thoughts were interrupted when a pair of footsteps made their way too where you currently are, you quickly hid the vision behind your back, afraid they might try and take it from you if they ever found out about it.

A familiar blonde and brunette made their way in front of your cell, you gripped your vision tighter remembering clear as day what had happened, your suspicions not even faltering for a second.

"(Name)." Jean called out, she placed her hand on her chest while looking at you calmly. Amber was by her side looking at your every movement, Jean continued "Were not here to hurt you. It's the opposite really" Jean's eyes looked soft and humble...

But that doesn't excuse them for knocking you out so harshly.

You deathly wanted to talk back to her but kept your mouth shut, only biting your lip harder so that nothing would come out and spill something important.

"Please, don't be wary of us.. We're your friends" Okay now she was spouting bs. Sure you've met amber for ONLY a bit but Jean was still technically a stranger to you!

You sighed to yourself "How long are you going to keep me in here?" you asked with a tad bit of impatience, you leaned your head back on the solid wall while narrowing down your eyes at them.

Amber responded to your question "Its..it's for your own good (Name), please trust us. We're keeping you safe" Amber's tone was yet determined but also worried. Jean placed her hand on Amber's shoulder and nodded.

"We'll explain to you everything later" Jean was about to say something till you cut her off "Why not now?" You asked tilting your head to the side.

Jean looked at you then down at the ground "There.. Are still some important things we had to arrange. But even so don't try to escape, this is for your own good (Name)"

"Ha? What do you-- AND... they left" You grumbled seeing them leave you all alone in here again.

✿

"Hey system." You called out to it while playing around with your vision. The system appeared again by your side "What is it?"

A Google translator like voice came out of the box, you had this thought for a while now. "Will something happen to me when I escape this place?" You questioned it.

It took a while but the Ai voice returned "Judging from my information I have gathered. You are currently a 'GOD'."

Ha?

"What!? What do you mean, God!?" You exclaimed in a panicked voice. You? A God?

You were snapped out of your frenzy when you heared it's voice again "There is currently a popular and confirmed tale plus ballad that you are the creator of Teyvat. People began worshipping you after you had abruptly dissapered without any warning, so they prayed and worshipped, hoping to bring you back"

You were even more bewildered but also... Understanding? I guess? I mean you are the player who basically built everything in the game. But isn't also Cai Hauyo (Mihoyo) basically the creator of what had been created? You'll dive deeper into that later.

"So.. They're all after me now?" Your tone had a clear hint of worry. You didn't want to be on the run and just wanted a normal life! The system replied saying "Not quite yet. I belive only the knights of favonius must've known. But Im sure it won't be long till the whole mondstadt or even Teyvat will find out about your presence"

You grimaced at the thought of being hunted down by multiple people, especially if those beloved people that you used to grind hours on end for!

You shaked your head in disapproval "Yet I can't really stay here either can I, it seriously sucks" you stretched your legs out on the cold cement flooring, the exterior of the room you had been trapped in was definitely not suited to live in.

"Why are you eager to escape?" The system sought to find the answer, you gave it a long frown "First of all, I am not going to be trapped here for the rest of my life! I'll die of boredom before anybody could even reach me" The system responded with only small glitching noises, it seemed like it was trying to process the outcome of your actions.

You took that as a cue to continue your rant "Secondly, I'm not really trusting the Knight's of Favonius yet nor anybody in general here. When you said I'm a supposed 'God' that's already trouble going to bite me in the ass" You breathed heavily to catch your breath, letting that all out of your chest felt pretty good to be honest.

"I know they're up to something"

!?!?

Jean stared down at the stack of papers and files scattered around her desk. She took a deep breath and began to tidy things up around the office, a vivid memory flashed through her mind, a memory that wasn't that long ago.

Amber had gone out to continue her Outrider duties leaving Jean to take care of their business for the time being. Her lips trembled ever so slightly like a leaf being blown by the wind, so she quickly bit her lip with her eyes full of worry and dread.

A god was in a cell. A cell she placed them in. Or.. So she was assuming

Back then, Barbatos and the creator had a small fondness of each other. Tales and Ballads would often say they were friends, even with the gap between their ranks and powers, the creator treated everyone fairly no matter what rank. They adored their creations and thus, the creations adored them back.

If only they hadn't left so soon that Teyvat began to slowly crumble, leaving a nation to fall down, a nation to lock itself away from the rest of the world, a nation having their own Archon sacrifice themselves for their people.

If only...

Jean had her doubts. It wasn't the first time that a supposed 'Creator' stepped up only for them to experience demise and pain for their foolish actions.

The creator didn't have a confirmed face or appearance since they often changed what they look like, the creator did had 'Aura'.. That was only visible to vision holders. But of course, the humankind has evolved and people began to come up with a 'Fake Aura' that was the exact replica of the creator's.

Her feet paced back and forth through the room, deciding on what to do with the supposed 'God' that was locked away in a cell.... Should she eliminate them now? False identity was a crime. And when it comes to the creator, no one is spared nor given mercy.

"...Their too suspicious, Why only now did they appear? They must've been like the others." She whispered to herself, her thoughts running wild about them.

A 50/50.

They were either the actual creator

Or they are a fake.

And Jean's choice began to tilt towards the one most logical.

"Tomorrow. We will arrange a public execution"

!!!

"GAHHH!! AGHHH" You desperately tried to concentrate on your mind to activate your vision powers "What the heck how does this work!?" You gripped the amulet tighter with your left eye twitching violently. Your annoyance only filled more as the messages of the system flooded in your face.

"Try concentrating more calmly. What are you doing? Taking a shit?" The system taunted you while also sending some emojis.

"I'm trying okay!? How do you..." You trailed your words off, having a random flashback of when you still were at earth for some reason.

"Hey how are you always so calm?" You asked your friend filled with curiosity, they looked up at your eyes. Seeing your curiosity they hummed "Well I mostly think about my happy memories and things that I like. It's like day dreaming you know?" They answered your thoughts calmly.

"What?? You sound like one of those cliché characters in shows lol."

You blankly stared at the wall after the flashback had ended. Your head turned to the system "That was your doing ain't it?" You deadpanned seeing that the system had completely ignored you and instead sent whistling emojis.

You groaned finally giving in since you had no other ideas anyway. "Agh... Fine, worth a shot" You grumbled giving in to the cliché idea.

You relaxed down your body as your shoulders began to lower along with your guard, you cleared your head, thinking nothing but a blank space for some moments. When you felt ready you had began to imagine all the joyful things that you deeply favored for the past years. All of that gathered into one moment inside your brain.

The vision glowed brightly in your hands, it's viridescent color taking up the whole dimly lit room, even the system kept quiet with the messages so that you could concentrate better on finally unlocking some skills.

And just that, in a short while the vision began to lose its light.

Fluttering your eyes open you took a look around your body to see any changes, to your dissapointment there wasn't any difference. "Did it work?" You wanted to know if you were finally able to throw plants or something.

Suddenly, you slightly jumped seeing confetti pop out of nowhere. The systems screen had massive words placed for you to see.

"CONGRATULATIONS ON UNLOCKING YOUR VISION !!

Reward:

+50,000 Mora

+Cake For The Player

+Personal Companion"

'Personal Companion?'

You were curious to see what it was but for now, you had to focus on breaking out of this hell hole. "System! So like uh, what can I do for now?" You rubbed the back of your head still pretty much a newbie to all this powers stuff.

"Throw out your companion. Call out it's name, 'Taube' and break the damn wall to escape"

"Taube?..." You mumbled it's name unsure at first but your doubts had quickly vanished as your eyes landed on a... Dove?

The Dove (Taube) was pure as a snow, it's wings flapping in the air gently with the inner layer of its feathers being a stunning (Color). Other than that, it looked like a pretty beautiful dove soaring in the sky.

"Wait so, what can it do?" You tilted your head at it questionably. "Make Taube attack the wall so you can see" The system answered your calling, you silently nodded your head at the systems words.

If the Dove was basically part of your power, then it could basically read through your mind! then.... 'Taube, I choose you!!'

Like a smooth cut of a knife, Taube had sliced through the wall with their wing, leading to the fresh and flourishing outside.

You were lying if you didn't say you were impressed and amazed by how easily Taube destroyed the wall. A wide smile appeared on your face as you didn't waste a single moment and ran out to the outside and away from that wretched room.

The air was clean and felt good as you inhaled as much as you can, the sweet scent of dandelions being all over the land was just a touch of freedom. The wind blew over your clothes and hair, wrinkling and messing it all up slightly.

"Man..." You muttered while straightening and fixing yourself up to look a slight bit more presentable. You looked around seeing Taube flying over to your vision, confusion hitted you but shock struck you harder for some quick seconds.

Your eyes widened, watching how Taubes body began to get absorbed by the vision, you panicked alot thinking your powerful animal companion is going to dissperse and never appear again but you quickly remembered that Taube is originally made from your vision anyway.

So you could summon them anytime! :D

A sigh of relief escaped through your lips, your eyes lingered on the body of Taube one last time, in impulse you softly stroked it's head before it faded away from your line of view.

Brushing those thoughts aside, you took a look around the vast land of Mondstadt. You weren't used to seeing how clean and green it was compared to earth where everything is in the brink of collapsing.

BUT! that wasnt your problem right now.

You didn't think twice to bolt your ass out of there and find a new hiding place, A cave? A abandoned house? Anything is fine! cause your gut kept telling you something bad will happen if you stay too long in there!

Wow. Who knew that you would be escaping from there when just a few chapters ago you were fangirling about living in mondstat?

Anyways...

'FREEDOM!!'

A/n: Short but active hehe

This is what the Dove kinda looks like btw, you could leave it to your imagination v

[a-very-tired-jew]

More JVP Shenanigans

TLDR; JVP's Haggadah was put together by goys and their tax filings show they have no intent to help and/or represent Jews. We all know JVP is the Autism Speaks of the Jewish community. They exploit Jews and try to present themselves as a Jewish organization concerned with systemic discrimination, Palestinian rights, antisemitism, and much more. Hell, you can go look at their core values on their website and a lot of us would agree that these are good things.

JVP uses all that as misdirection. It uses Judaism as set dressing for its own agenda and exploits people’s ignorance. However, if you have just a little bit of knowledge you can tell that JVP is not only exploiting Judaism, but it is an organization that has wholly embraced Jew face and does not know what it’s doing.

Take a look at their Haggadah.

Their Haggadah was clearly put together by goys who didn’t know what they were doing. Many of the translations for their blessings are wrong or were clearly put through google translate. Other blessings are slapdash put together or grabbed from other Seders. Take a look at this blessing:

Baruch atah adonai eloheynu melech ha’olam asher kidshanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu l’hadlik ner shel (Shabbat v’shel) yom tov. Blessed is the spirit of freedom in whose honor we kindle the lights of this holiday, Passover, the season of Freedom.

Do you see the issue? For those who don't know, there is no mention of Passover in the blessing at all. So why is it in the translation? They also didn't include any of the extra words for Shabbat in the translation as well. If you have the patience, go through and read it. It omits the story of Passover, dismisses the importance of the holiday, and just changes the entire thing for their agenda. Edit: Above is about last year's haggadah as someone pointing out in the replies. Below is the link to this year's and it's just as bad, but this time they have a lot of tokenization to justify why they change the entire holiday to support their agenda. It literally asks you to write to the NY Times at one point...

“But it’s a Jewish organization, I swear!”

Well let’s look at their tax filing where they as a 501(c)3 have to describe what their organization is and their intent.

That's weird. A Jewish organization that states it fights against antisemitism and is committed to Jewish communities has nothing on their filing about Judaism or Jews in any capacity. It's mission is regarding education about Palestinians. Some of you might say "what's wrong with that?" There's nothing inherently wrong with that mission statement. What is wrong is that JVP hides its intent, bigotry, and antisemitism behind a veil of Jew face. It claims to be a Jewish organization, but it can't even get basic translations of prayers right. It omits, misleads, and misinforms about our culture, history, and traditions in such a heinous way that it's downright disgraceful. JVP does not represent the Jewish community and at this point it's clear that they're Jewish in name only.

[babydollmarauders]

OHMAMI — QUINN HUGHES

quinn hughes x fem!reader

summary: in which Quinn fucks his girlfriend in the backseat of his new car

warnings: NSFW!!, p in v (unprotected), semi-public sex, daddy kink, oral (f receiving), light choking, praise, dirty talk, dom!quinn, lots of use of the pet name “baby”, slight religious reference (?), pls let me know if i’m missing any.

notes: inspired by OHMAMI by Chase Atlantic (feat. Maggie Lindemann). 4.6k words.

IMPORTANT: please look up Ferrari GTC4Lusso T interior if you need a better understanding of the car layout

“you’re sure about this?” i mindlessly wander the office of the luxury dealership, my fingertips running over any surface they can touch.

“why wouldn’t i be?” Quinn peers up at me from his spot in a chair, his iphone in his hands, mid-texting his younger brother.

“i don’t know, Q. it’s just a lot of money is all.” shrugging, i shuffle my feet back over to my boyfriend, where i let my hands rest on his shoulders as i stand behind him.

Quinn lets out a chuckle, pulling one of my hands in his and raising it to his lips to press a gentle kiss against my knuckles.

“i appreciate the financial concern, baby, but i think i’ll be okay.”

i sigh, moving around to sit on his lap. “okay.”

his arm spindles around my waist as he draws me back, my back flat against his chest. my fingers unconsciously draw shapes on his forearm, near the crook of his elbow, as he continues texting Jack about the big purchase he’s about to make.

i eye his phone, watching the blue and gray bubbles pop up back and forth and hoping we’ll be done here soon.

two hours of looking at cars, Quinn asking a multitude of questions to the salesman; half an hour of paperwork, and another half hour of waiting for said salesman to run Quinn’s name through the system, checking his credit score and whatever various other things needed to buy such a high-end car. i’ve been stuck at this dealership for three hours now, unplanned, as Quinn had pulled into the establishment after our spur-of-the-moment 3pm lunch date, claiming he just wanted to take a quick look at a couple of cars.

“Quinny,” i breathe out, letting my head fall backwards on his shoulder while his hand starts mindlessly rubbing up and down my thigh. “how much longer will we have to be here?”

“i don’t know, baby. hopefully not too much longer.” he locks his phone, setting it on his thigh and using his now free hand to caress my cheek, simultaneously turning my head to look into my eyes.

“is my girl tired?” he coos at the sight of my fluttering eyelids, leaning in to brush his lips lightly over mine.

“mhm” i hum, burrowing my face in his neck. his hand moves as i do, now resting on the back of my head, holding it in its position.

it’s at this moment that the salesman decides to make his re-entrance. “alright! everything checks out, looks good!”

i immediately attempt to pry myself from my boyfriend, but he holds me in place, clearly not bothered by the new company.

“i knew it would!” Quinn smiles back at the man, putting on his usual charm.

“now all we need is that down payment and you’ll be driving out of here in your very own Ferrari!” the salesman, i haven’t bothered to learn his name, chimes. “do you have a credit card you can give me?”

“yep,” Quinn taps my butt, signaling for me to lift it so he can grab his wallet from his pocket. i do so and he unpockets his wallet before pulling me back down on his lap. “here you go.”

the man takes Quinn’s card, taking a seat at his desk and punching the information from the card before handing it back.

“alright,” he grabs a few papers from the printer behind him, stapling them together and scribbling in a few places before sliding them towards my boyfriend. “just sign here, and here.”

Quinn leans forward and his left arm tightens around my waist to keep me situated on his lap, taking the pen in his right hand and autographing his signature twice.

“congratulations!” the salesman grins, handing the new keys to Quinn and shaking his hand.

“thanks, man.” Quinn smiles crookedly, rising from the chair and bringing me up with him.

we follow behind the salesman, back out to the Ferrari that Quinn just bought; which is now parked next to Jack’s Range Rover, in which we drove here.

i take Jack’s keys from Quinn with a sigh. knowing i’m now responsible for getting such an expensive car back to the lake house is a frightening task that i didn’t expect to be doing today, but one i’m now stuck with nonetheless.

“i’ll see you back at the house, yeah?” Quinn smiles. his hand grips my waist, pulling my lower half into his as he lowers his lips onto mine in a breathless kiss.

“yeah, wish me luck. if i get even a scratch on this car, Jack will have my head on a stick.” i gnaw at my lower lip in anxiety, but his free hand comes up to my chin, his thumb pulling my lip free from my teeth.

“nah, he loves you too much. he’d have my head on a stick.” he laughs, before lightly nudging me back towards the car.

“that’s even worse!” i tease. “how am i supposed to explain to the Canucks that their star defenseman is dead because i scratched his brothers car?”

“eh, you’re smart,” he winks, rounding the Ferrari. “you’ll think of something.”

we climb into the respective cars, and Quinn is gracious enough to wait while i adjust the seat to my height before he begins leading the way to the lake house.

the drive is smooth, and when we arrive at the house, Quinn opens my door as i return the seat adjustments back to the way Jack had them.

“see?” he grins, leaning over my body to unbuckle my seatbelt for me. “the car is all good.”

“it better be. that car is my baby.” Jack pipes up from behind him, making Quinn roll his eyes. “if anything were to happen-”

“yeah, yeah.” he cuts him off. “if anything were to happen to it, you would’ve killed her.”

i feign a gasp, jokingly smacking his arm.

“you said he would kill you.” i say in mock shock.

Quinn shrugs. “i was trying to calm your nerves.”

i playfully push him away, hopping out of the car to face Jack, who’s now too busy ogling the Ferrari to pay any attention to his own vehicle.

“i’m gonna go see if your mom needs any help with dinner.” i announce, already stepping towards the house. “have fun showing off your new toy, babe!”

i pass by a horde of guys on my way into the house, bumping hips with Cole, who ends up giggling.

“going to see the new thing?” i ask, and Trevor stops dead in his tracks.

“that thing is a 2022 Ferrari GTC4Lusso.” Trevor explains, as if i understand a single thing he’s just said.

“sure. whatever it is, it cost a lot.” i shrug, carrying on into the house. “enjoy.”

i join Ellen in the kitchen, making myself busy by tossing together the salad ingredients she has on the counter.

we make small talk as we cook, letting the men have their fun gawking at the new car, and enjoying the silence that comes with it.

“do you wanna go tell them dinner is ready?” she more so tells me to do, and i fake a pout.

“do i have to? it’s so peaceful. we could easily just slip out back and eat dinner by the lake without them ever even noticing.” i wiggle my eyebrows enticingly and she laughs, shooing me off towards the front door.

“i had to try.” i giggle out, opening the front door to the gaggle of men. “boys! dinner’s ready!”

they all make their way up the porch and i stand idly by, waiting for my own man to enter the house. finally, he appears at the very back of the group, smirking as he wraps an arm around my waist, walking me to the dining room.

“i was thinking after dinner, you and i could go for a drive. just us.” he pecks a kiss to my cheek as we sit at the table, and i nod.

“sure, sounds nice.” his hand rests on my thigh now, partly covered by my sundress, and i squirm a little at his touch on my bare skin.

it’s been at least three weeks since Quinn and i have been able to do anything past PG-13, him not wanting to risk it while his parents are here, and i’m starting to feel restless.

the smallest touches from him have been causing me to get slick with need, and i squeeze my thighs together to provide myself some friction, but it never helps. like now.

i know Quinn has caught on because his grip tightens just the slightest bit, his thumb beginning to stroke my skin.

“you okay, baby?” he’s teasing me, asking his question in such a sweet tone that anyone else at the dinner table would think he’s just checking in on his girlfriend, but he and i know that isn’t the case.

“mhm” i hum, attempting to ignore his touch as i fill my plate and his.

“now y/n, Quinn is a grown man with two hands; he can make his own plate, honey.” Ellen jests, poking a dig at her eldest son.

“acts of service is her love language, ma.” Quinn pokes back before pressing another chaste kiss to my cheek, muttering his thank you as we begin to eat.

the table is filled with a generous amount of chatting as we eat; Jack telling a story about something that happened in Jersey, Luke telling everyone about how Luca Fantilli got his head stuck in stair banisters… twice, Trevor going on a long-winded rant about a missed goal; but Quinn and i are mostly silent. Quinn because he’s just almost been more of the listen rather than talk type, and me because i don’t trust my voice while my boyfriend is currently inching his hand up the bottom of my dress.

someone seems to catch onto my lack of interest though, because Alex eyes me curiously from his spot in front of me, and then chooses to speak up.

“you’re quiet tonight, y/n.” his statement draws the attention of the rest of the group, their eyes gravitating towards me.

“just tired.” i fib, my voice tight as Quinn’s hand slowly slides towards my inner thigh, now just far enough away that if he spreads his fingers, his pinky will graze against my wet panties. “who knew three hours at a car dealership could be so draining.”

Cole laughs, obviously buying my lie, which causes the rest of the table to chuckle.

“oh yeah, honey. buying a car will do that.” Ellen sympathizes. “the long process sucks the life right out of you.”

the chatter carries on around me and i return to my silence. dinner has long since been finished, and Luke proposes making s’mores for dessert, so Quinn takes that as our chance to escape.

“you guys go ahead,” he starts. his warm touch disappears from my skin as he rises from his chair. “y/n and i are gonna go for a drive. i wanna show her why this purchase was worth it.”

he holds his hand out for mine and i falter, looking between Ellen and him.

“i usually help your mom with the dishes.” i remind him, gesturing towards the table full of plates.

“oh don’t worry about it,” Ellen chimes. “Jack can help me.”

“i- what?” Jack sputters, finally looking away from the phone screen he’s been engrossed in for the past few minutes. “what about me? i was checking the Yankees score.”

Quinn rolls his eyes at his younger brother, shaking his head as he grasps my hand, pulling me up from my seat and leading me through the house.

“we’ll be back in a little bit!” he calls out as we exit through the front door.

climbing into the car, i can feel the excitement radiating off of him.

“okay, i know i’m not a car person, but what is a drive in it supposed to show me?” i ask as he starts the engine. his hand gravitates to the back of my headrest as he reverses out of the driveway, his eyes flicking between the backup camera and the back window of the car.

it should be illegal to be this hot while reversing a car.

fuck, y/n. focus.

“you’ll understand once you ride it.”

i scan his body, my eyes lingering in one specific place.

i can think of something i’d like to ride.

shit, y/n. think with your brain, not your hormones.

“okay.” i drag out, leaning back in the seat and relaxing as he drives down the street.

the car is quiet besides the soft hum of the radio, tuned into a random pop hits station that i know Quinn turned on just for me.

his left hand sits on the steering wheel, while his right reaches over to lay upon my thigh, causing my thoughts to run wild. fantasies and memories of us tangled in the sheets, his hand on my throat as he hovers above me, or better yet; his hand in between my legs, his fingers working me toward my orgasm.

i can feel my skin get red and hot, as i imagine all the ways i would be with him if we weren’t stuck in a house full of people.

… but we’re not there now.

Quinn exits onto the highway, the car speeding up as he does so, and i glance toward the back seat.

it’s small, but we could make it work.

my hand snakes up to sit on top of his and his eyes flicker towards me, a soft smile resting on his lips at the sweet gesture. and i let him believe that for a few minutes before i’m pulling his hand up my thigh, closer towards my soaking core.

“baby-” he breathes out, his words failing him when he finally feels how wet i am.

“we’re all alone.” i state, my head lolling back against the seat as his fingers start stroking me through my panties like they have a mind of their own.

“baby, i’m driving.” his voice is strained, a vein popping out on his neck as he clenches his jaw.

my hand leaves his, instead reaching over to palm him through his jeans, in which his left hand leaves the wheel to lightly swat mine away.

“i can’t drive if you do that.”

i huff but it blends into a moan as his thumb begins to circle my clit.

“so, pull over.” i suggest, ready for something more.

he’s hesitant, i can tell, so i pull out the secret weapon.

“please, daddy.” i whimper, reaching over to palm his now hard cock once more.

“fuck.” he curses, switching lanes to get off on the next exit.

he quickly finds a mostly abandoned lookout, only one other car parked on the other side of the lot, and switches into park.

his eyes are cloudy with need as he turns to look at me, his fingers still working themselves on my bundle of nerves. my breaths come out in heavy pants that mingle with moans.

“faster.” i plead, but rather than obeying my lust-hazed command, he pulls his hand away completely. i mewl at the loss of touch, but his hand winds up to the base of my neck, his grasp just light enough to remind me who’s in charge, but not tight enough to do any harm to my air supply.

“you don’t call the shots here, darling.” he whispers before pulling me by his grip into a bruising kiss.

his tongue brushes against mine and his teeth bite down on my lower lip, making me whimper. when he pulls away, i can just barely make out his features within the darkness of the Ferrari.

“get in the back.” he orders and i scramble to unbuckle my seatbelt, climbing over the center console and into the divided backseat.

rather than joining me by climbing back, Quinn exits the car, rounding the front and opening the passenger side door. he pulls the passenger seat forward, climbing in on his knees and shutting the door, the seat still pulled as far forward as it’ll go.

his arms hook around my legs, pulling me forward so that i’m slumped in the seat, my ass sitting on the edge. he looks up at me with dark eyes, placing my legs over his shoulders as he leans forward.

his hands glide up my legs, bunching my sundress up to my waist. his tongue licks a stripe over my clothed cunt and i shudder, my left hand attempting to grip at the leather of the backseat center console, as my right finds itself tangled in his hair.

he pulls away, despite my attempts to hold him in place, and his fingertips play with the waistband of my lacy yellow panties.

“beg me.” he insists, teasing me by hooking his fingers in the sides of my underwear, but not making any further moves.

“please, Quinn.” i plead, and he pulls one side away from my skin then lets it snap back into place, causing me to jolt.

“uh-uh.” he shakes his head, backing away just slightly.

“please, daddy, please.” i cry out, attempting to pull him in again. “i’ll be good, i promise.”

“yeah?” Quinn taunts, slowly pulling my panties down my legs as i lift myself just barely from the seat. he knocks my legs from his shoulders, pulling the under garment off and throwing it in the front seat.

“mhm.” i nod my head wildly, my brows raising as i do so. “i’ll be so good. just please, please, do something.”

Quinn wastes no more time, pushing one of my legs up to hook over the backseat center console as the other hooks over his shoulder. he dives down, licking up my heat like a man starved.

his tongue circles my clit and my head drops back, but he provides a swift smack to my thigh to remind me to look at him. one of his rules.

i bite my lip to try and muffle my cries of pleasure, his hand rising to pull the top of my dress down just enough for my breasts to pop out. he grips one, harshly squeezing before he pinches at my nipple.

my jaw drops open, a breathy moan escaping my lips as my back attempts to arch in the small space.

“fuck!” i cry out, tugging at his hair. “yes, daddy!”

he shifts between sucking on clit to licking in my cunt, fucking me with his tongue. my hips stutter and he holds my leg open as it tries to unhook itself from the console in order to close on his head.

i tug again at his hair, pushing his head further into me, and he moans, the vibrations flowing straight into my core. i cry out again, the familiar knot in my stomach slowly building the longer he continues.

“please!” i whine. “please, make me come!”

Quinn’s dips down to show more love to my pussy, and his nose brushes against my clit, my hips immediately beginning to grind against him. my legs begin to shake and i can feel myself getting closer and closer to release.

“right there! don’t stop!”

i’m sure anyone outside the car can probably hear my screams, but it doesn’t deter me. too busy chasing my high to care what anyone else may think.

of course, Quinn doesn’t listen, knowing my body well enough to know exactly what will set me off. his lips close around my clit, sucking and flicking his tongue, and it only takes a few moments for me to reach the edge.

“i’m gonna come! fuck, i’m gonna come!” i warn him but he only pushes deeper, flicking his tongue faster against the button of nerves, and i let out a guttural moan as i finally let go, coming on his face. he laps at my release, riding me through my orgasm, only stopping once i begin to twitch at the feeling.

“now you see why i won’t do anything at the house?” he teases, smirking as he wipes at the juices on his chin with the back of his hoodie sleeve. “you’re so vocal. i love it, but i don’t want anyone else hearing your sounds. they’re just for me.”

my hand hook around the nape of his neck and i pull him up to my face, pressing my lips against his. he moans into the kiss and i can taste myself on his lips; slightly sweet, slightly salty, and it turns me on; pushing me towards another round.

i release him from my grasp, lightly shooing him backwards and fiddling with the button on his pants.

“i want you to fuck me.” i breathe out, pulling his zipper down.

“oh yeah?” his smirk grows, clearly not expecting any more than we just did.

“yes, please.” i nod, pulling his pants down, his erection popping free and slapping against his clothed torso. “please fuck me, daddy.”

i maneuver myself onto my knees, slowly bending myself over the center console, allowing my right leg to straighten some, my foot dropping down to the floor of the car as the other leg stays bent on the backseat; allowing him a full view of my glistening pussy.

“since you asked so nicely, baby.” Quinn joins me on the seat, knelt behind me at a slightly awkward angle as he pulls his pants down some more.

i bite back a giddy smile, waiting impatiently for him to fill me up, and i’m not disappointed when i look back to find him grasping his cock. he runs it through my folds a few times, lubing himself up with my release, and i arch my back to better accommodate him.

my eyes roll back, a moan bubbling up my throat as he pushes his tip into my entrance, thrusting in just slightly before pulling back and repeating.

“daddy, please.” i whine, still frustratingly horny and awaiting his full size.

it doesn’t take any more begging than that, Quinn suddenly bottoming out inside me.

“fuck, baby, you feel so good.” he groans, but i’m too busy choking out my own cries to reply.

he begins thrusting slowly, and i nearly let out a sob of relief at the feeling.

“whadd’ya think?” he asks, his voice strained as he thrusts into me, fucking my hips into the leather of the center console. “how does my cock feel, fucking your greedy little pussy?”

“so good!” i exclaim, pushing back against him. my eyes squeeze shut as his hand wraps around my throat, the other gripping my hip. “feels so good!”

“love watching your ass bounce off me as i fuck you like this.” he groans and his dirty talk succeeds in making me clench around him, causing him to moan.

i peek back to find his head thrown back, his jaw slack and his eyes firmly shut for a moment before he looks back down, making eye contact with me.

he leans forward, his front pressing against my back as he kisses my lips, nipping at my lips before he pulls back and continues fucking into me at a faster rhythm.

my head drops forward, my hair curtaining my face, and i let out a cry of pleasure as he begins rubbing my clit.

my back arches again, and i whimper when his hand leaves my throat in order to smooth down my spine, pushing my back down further.

“taking me so well.” he praises, thrusting harder than before, and i can feel the knot that had just come undone, tangling back together. “such a good girl for me.”

”only for you, daddy.” he continues his assault on my clit and the sensation mixed with the fullness of him pushing into me makes my legs begin to shake once more.

i can feel his dick pulsating, and his strokes become sloppier, assuring me that he’s close. i clench around him, my eyes rolling back and stars dancing in my vision.

“oh god, i’m coming!” i announce.

Quinn grips my hip tight, “god isn’t in this car, baby.”

my hips begin to falter in their movements, my body locking up and my breath catching in my throat as i come for the second time tonight.

my orgasm spurs on his; his hips stuttering and his breathing falling heavy, a grunt escaping his lips as he finishes inside of me.

his thrusts stop, the car falling silent except our heavy pants as we catch our breath. the windows are fogged, the scent of sex lingering around us.

Quinn pulls out of me and i slump against the center console, listening to him pull his pants back up. he pulls my sundress back down to cover my ass before he sits, gripping my hips and pulling me back and onto his lap, my back now pressed against the side of the car.

my head lolls sideways onto his shoulder, my eyes closed, and he chuckles, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. caressing my cheek, he pecks a soft kiss onto my nose and the corners of my lips twitch up in a smile.

“worth the wait?” he questions and my eyelids flutter open. i nod, craning my neck to kiss his cheek, and he smiles.

“my girl needs some sleep, huh?” he asks, and i nod again, but make no moves to get up. “let’s get you home.”

my limbs feel like jello as i climb out of the car, letting him out before i push the passenger seat back and sit back down, buckling up. Quinn rounds the car, climbing into the drivers side and starting the engine once more.

but before beginning to drive, he reaches down and pulls my panties out from under his thigh. laughing, he hands them back to me, and i giggle as i pull them back on.

the ride home is mostly quiet, my head resting against the cool glass window and our hands laced together, with his right one back in its place on the steering wheel.

“well,” i start as we pull into the driveway, my voice hoarse from my earlier cries. “we christened the car.”

Quinn lets out a hearty laugh, letting go of my hand to put the car in park and turn off the engine.

he jumps out of the car as i unbuckle, making his way around to my door and letting me out.

“what do you think the odds are that they’ll be asleep?” he grins as i pretend to ponder his question.

“your parents? one hundred percent. everyone else? maybe twenty percent.” i joke and he shrugs.

“i’ll take those odds.” we make our way up the porch and he unlocks the door, attempting to stay quiet in order to sneak past any stray boys still in the open space of the house.

but luck is officially not on our side as we open the front door to the living room full of his brothers and their friends on the couch playing video games.

Quinn quietly curses as heads turn to look at us, and Trevor is the first to put together our long drive and our disheveled appearances. he busts out in laughter, pointing between my boyfriend and i.

“oh you guys fucked.” he cackles, wheezing in amusement.

Jack and Luke’s noses scrunch for a moment before they too join in on the laughter, but luckily Alex and Cole just shake their heads at their friends.

“you guys are so immature.” Quinn scoffs, lacing his hand in mine as we head toward the stairs, up to our bedroom.

“in the new car, guys? seriously?” Jack calls out, and his older brother rolls his eyes, continuing up the stairs.

“goodnight!”

[cinnamonest]

Beleaguer

"Failed escape attempt" yandere series - Diluc

WARNINGS: dark content, fem reader, noncon, captivity, belting/spanking, manhandling, humiliation, darling has a somewhat defined personality, hair pulling, implied forced impregnation at the end, forced fem/housewifization + thinly veiled if not wholly unveiled misogyny, swearing, there's a lot going on here and none of it is holy

--------------

‘Fill cap to line. Causes intense drowsiness and loss of motor function within 5-10 minutes. Soluble. Do not operate heavy machinery if taken within the last 24 hours.’

You blinked a few times, focusing your vision. Your mind could be deceiving you, after all. But when you looked again, the vial in your hand read the same words as it did moments before.

You'd merely gone to set the oil back into the cabinet when the force of pushing one knocked over another further within, coming across the bottle in the very back in the process of fixing the mishap.

You grasped it firmly in your hand, merely blinking in disbelief as you read over the words again and again.

“Oh my God.”

You spoke aloud to yourself, standing alone in the spacious kitchen, the words slipping out on their own in a low whisper.

Daily life as you now lived it brought a sort of mind-numbing stillness to it. Life was repetitive and uneventful. You woke at the same time, performed the same mindless tasks, the same chores, the same interactions. You said hello and good morning to the same maids every morning (you'd lost the willpower to continue being cold to the staff a long time ago), you came down and went through the same routine, wore the same clothes, had the same conversations.

The only thing that ever changed was a few different foods on rotation from week to week and the names and faces of the strangers that came in and out of the lower rooms - although they were all one and the same to you, their attitudes and the way they treated you and looked at you was as though each was the same individual with merely a different face.

And consequently, you'd reached a state of numbness, you went through the tasks mechanically, without thinking, perhaps intentionally shutting down your mind to make acceptance easier. Disconnected, unreal, everything melted together and the days and the people were all one long continuous sequence of occurrences.

It was easier that way. Resisting brought anger, frustration, tears, misery. Allowing the numbness to take over allowed some escape from the reality itself.

Which was likely why reading the words themselves felt like a shockwave through your body, as if suddenly the world regained its colors, you could feel your heart beating and your lungs fill with air. Like a sharp and sudden awakening from an endless, empty, dreamless sleep.

You felt a sudden wave of shame immediately following the shock, chastising yourself for even allowing that numbness to take over, like you might have felt angry with yourself in the past for oversleeping or spacing out and missing something important.

You recognized the handwritten label stuck to the bottle, having gone to the same place for something or another in the past — the alchemist’s lab in the city. That essentially meant it had to be highly effective.

Not only that — the fact that the seal was broken and about a third of the liquid gone, would mean it was very likely the same substance used on you more than once. If so, “drowsiness” was an understatement — it would knock you out cold for hours at a time.

You heard yourself breathing in ragged, quick breaths, you stumbled and steadied yourself against the counter, looking up and around you, suddenly aware of the world around you, everything felt real. The emotions came flooding back — humiliation, resentment, fury.

This was a way out. A miracle.

In your sudden awakening, your mind, sprung back to function, as if the wheels were once again turning, took only a mere minute to formulate a plan. It wasn't really difficult at all — in fact, there was perhaps not a single moment more perfect for you to have stumbled across this opportunity. You were, after all, just about to fill glasses, the final step in your meal preparation.

You set the vial down and ran over to the other cabinet — wiping your hands on your apron to rid them of any residue from cooking — and opened it up, swiping a bottle of juice and returning to the center of the kitchen. The corners of your mouth pulled upwards beyond your control into a grin as you went about the process.

Have a taste of your own medicine, bastard.

You smirked even wider, practically beaming as you popped a tablet out of the packaging, dropping it into one of the glasses. It made a fizzing sound as it grew smaller and smaller, and you watched with wide eyes as it disappeared. Just to be certain, you bent your head down and gave it a sniff, but there was no distinguishable smell or color that would give it away.

And you were certain that, if this was in fact the same drug that you'd consumed, there was nothing about it that tasted unusual.

And once it was complete, for yet another moment you merely stood, staring, grinning and trembling, processing this sudden turn of events. It would be easy, right? The sun was already about to set, the staff were no longer in the fields except for a few security guards that patrolled here or there. It would be easy to spot and avoid them.

You just had to get Diluc to drink this, wait for him to pass out, and run, right? Sure, traversing the road barefoot might be difficult, but that would probably be the extent of your hardships, provided you could get out.

Get out, get on the road, make a straight shot for Mondstadt, go straight to the knights and tell them everything that had happened to you. Maybe you could steal one of the horses they kept for plowing to make your getaway. Your chest burned at the thought of getting your revenge — no, your justice. You deserved this, you deserved freedom — and he deserved whatever consequences would come his way.

…No. You realized, albeit with frustration, that getting revenge wasn't really an option. He had power and money, and you knew all too well how good such people were at evading consequences.

You would just have to run. Staying in Mondstadt certainly wasn't an option. You'd just go… somewhere. Specifics didn't matter as long as you got away from here.

And sure, you'd made a few attempts to get out before, quickly foiled and harshly punished. But you'd never had an advantage like this before. He couldn't chase you down if he was out cold.

You took deep breaths, trying to calm down. It would all be over soon.

You finally managed to wipe the mischievous grin off your face. You knew you couldn't afford risking him getting suspicious if you were too outwardly giddy. Instead, you tried to maintain only a small smile, the numb, dopey smile you'd trained yourself to wear. Nonetheless, you shook your head and settled the plates and glasses onto a tray, carrying them out to the little table that sat tucked away in an alcove in the hallway connecting the main hall to the kitchen. He preferred to eat here when it was just the two of you, with plain cups and plates, rather than the massive dining room with all its ornate tableware — that was only for formal occasions, you'd discovered, whereas this was out of sight from the constantly-bustling staff.

You set the food and drink out — careful to be mindful of which cup was which — then stood, returned the tray to the kitchen, then the vial to the cabinet and, with a spring in your step, turned and made your way down the hall.

You were careful to make sure everything was as it was supposed to be. Straightened your posture, ran your hands down the front of the dress to smooth it out.

You began the short journey from the kitchen to the study, footsteps light and soft, short steps that slowed your pace. No heavy steps that thumped against the hardwood, no letting your weight fall onto each foot all at once, and no slouching. Nor any other such improper, inappropriate behaviors.

It really was a beautiful building, though, so you thought to yourself as you glanced up at the ornate windows. You'd been here before, on your own volition, back long ago, of your own volition. You'd walked by it plenty of times, and once or twice had taken a moment to stroll around the vineyard, figuring it would do no harm, as you were never noticed.

Now, it was a sort of beautiful prison, such an elegant architecture for such a suffocating place.

Upon reaching one particular door, you raised a hand up and gave a gentle knock. A voice came from behind the door.

"Mm?"

You took another deep breath, calming yourself down, trying to mentally switch the ‘on’ button for your sweet obedient wife act you hoped you had mastered well enough by now, complete with an upward shift in octave and sing-song-y touch to your voice. "It's me."

You heard a chair scoot backwards, heavy footsteps, and the door opened. "...Hey." A hand rested on your head. "Food ready?"

"Yes sir." You gave a soft smile.

"That's good... thanks." He patted your head, and seemed to stifle a yawn. His voice was drained, nearly a mumble.

"Are you ok?" You tried your best to make your voice sound soft and concerned, furrowing your eyebrows in a way you hoped looked worried, pushing your lower lip out a bit.

"Just tired. Lots of work today. I'll just eat and then we'll go to sleep."

Oh yes, you will.

Fighting the urge to grin, you slowly made your way back together down the hall — remembering to keep your footsteps light, forcing a sort of soft, feminine gracefulness to your manner of walking, lest you be reminded to do so.

Every little second, every step, every word was practiced and poised. Now, having reawakened to your resentment and defiance, just acting it out made you feel sick.

There was, nonetheless, a residual sense of dread, a nagging pit in your stomach that went deeper than the surface-level nervousness.

There was a major disadvantage — this would not be the first time you tried something like this. Granted, not with this particular substance, but you had once managed to make him horribly sick for well over a day with rat poison, and once again with liquid pesticide meant for the vineyard. Both incidents were purely for the purpose of amusement and spite, which you’d reveled in despite the unfortunate consequences you’d suffered.

The first time, he'd been totally unsuspecting, and the second time he'd been too distracted and busy to notice anything even if you had let something slip. You could curse yourself now in hindsight — if you hadn't committed those first two offenses out of sheer spite, you'd be able to pull this off much more easily. But now, he’d learned you would do something like that, and if the slightest thing was wrong in the taste or appearance of it, he'd get suspicious immediately. You weren't even sure if a single sip was enough to do anything, considering how diluted the substance now was. You’d just have to hope he’d drink the whole thing.

You did your best to make idle conversation as you walked, talking about whatever you did that day, as if it was ever any different from any other day. Your nerves felt electrified, your body tense and stiff as you sat back down and took a bite of this and that, trying to contain your anticipation, trying to look at him out of the corner of your eye rather than directly. He didn't say much, but that wasn't abnormal, only slowly taking in bites of this and that. It felt like an eternity of waiting.

Come on, get thirsty, drink it...

Finally, his hand reached out to the juice. You felt your breath hitch.

Come on, come on!

You stopped moving, anxiously waiting for him to drink.

So caught up in your excitement that you didn't realize you were letting it show on your face, that you had ceased your own motions to stop and stare intently.

It took him stopping and looking up at you with confusion in his expression, for you to feel a spike of panic as you realized the mistake.

"...Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Hm?" You immediately tried to correct the behavior, going back to cutting at something on your plate with a smile, hoping the way you stiffened wasn't visible. "Sorry, I just… I spaced out a second, what did you say?"

He was silent for a moment.

"...Nothing."

Ok. Good save.

You popped a bite of food into your mouth. Besides, despite being an overall intelligent man, he had a tendency to be rather dense sometimes, surely he wouldn't pick up on something like that.

You were fine for now— what is he doing.

You noticed an odd look spread across his features, eyebrows furrowed a bit, as if thinking something through.

Then, he stood up, glass in one hand, and grabbed yours with the other.  He swapped your drinks and sat back down, looking up at you with a neutral, cold stare.

Oh.

His gaze didn't falter. He set his elbows on the table, and rested his head on interlocked fingers. "Is there a problem?"

Oh no.

"N-no, I was just... why did you...?" You felt your body go cold, and try as you might not to, you knew panic must be showing on your face.

"It's the same thing, isn't it? So it's fine."

You couldn't miss the suspicious tone to his voice even if you'd tried to ignore it.

"...Right." You smiled, but you felt your lips tremble a bit. You could save this, for now, even if it didn't work out in your favor. You looked at the food, but you could still feel his gaze on you, so, hoping to pacify his suspicion, you brought the cup up to your mouth and tilted it as if you were drinking, closing your upper lip to the glass so that none of the juice actually got in your mouth. Then, after a moment, you pulled it away, swallowing to further the deceit.

He seemed satisfied by the action — right? It looked like he bought it, right? — and looked back down, resuming eating. There was a tense, awkward silence, so you attempted to fill in the empty space.

"D-did you, um, do anything fun today?"

"I wouldn't call anything I do 'fun,'" he muttered. "Just met with a bunch of people, one after the other... there's lots of business partnership contract renewals around this time of year, so they have to come here for that process."

"Mhm." You couldn't care less, but feigned interest. You knew Diluc well by this point, and knew how to appeal to the things that would soothe him the most. One of the most important factors in that was listening to whatever it was he had to say, no matter how boring (which, really, most things having to do with his work were). He liked to feel listened to, didn't have anyone else to go to, you supposed. Lots of stress, high expectations, and no solid support figure probably was the root of his psychological issues. — said issues were something you had spent a lot of time contemplating and trying to figure out in your spare time, given their now inherent effect on your own life.

But you presumed that most men without stress and some kind of serious issues generally did not go around abducting women they barely knew and forcing them to live in their homes. At least, not to your knowledge.

You had often wondered why someone like him wouldn't choose someone who was already that ideal, someone who already exemplified those traits… but as time went by you began to understand that that simply wasn't good enough.

That there was an allure to someone like you, to someone like him. That your very existence as you were on your own upset the man — you'd noticed that within the first few minutes of interacting with him, back when you first started coming to that damn bar you now wish you’d never set foot in. The displeased expression and dismissive tone at your vulgarity and defiance and aggression. You'd thought, back then, that the man disliked you —and he did, in a way.

But for someone who seemed to have such distaste for you, he sure did fail to ever leave you alone. There was some impulsive need to say something to you at some point in each encounter, as if he couldn't allow you to go about your night without at least one look of disdain or passive-aggressive comment. The only thing that seemed more irksome to him than your existence, was the fact that you always bit back, always said something in return, and thus your interactions had only fueled your and his disdain for each other further and further.

The mistake you'd made in your original assessment of him, that you’d slowly come to understand with time, was that he was not a person who simply avoided things he disliked, like most people — he was hellbent on fixing whatever irked him, remediating whatever was perceived as wrong.

You had not been an exception.

Now in the present, as you tried to focus on maintaining your calm act, he kept on talking about this or that. Some people who came by today, some guy who keeps trying to get him to sign some agreement he doesn't want to, this isn't a particularly good crop this season, but he's seen worse, blah blah, nothing you cared about.

You continued eating, which soon turned out to be a mistake — your throat was dry, food wasn't helping, and you desperately wanted something to drink, but you could do nothing but raise your glass up and pretend you were actually drinking your juice. You thought, for a moment, he seemed to look at the glass, and fear he realized the amount wasn't going down ran through your mind, but you tried to calm yourself. If you started imagining things in your paranoia, you'd only increase the chance of him noticing your panic.

There was obvious suspicion a few minutes ago, sure, but there had been plenty of times he had falsely suspected you of things in the past, and was generally willing to believe you once presented with contrary evidence, even once becoming, albeit reluctantly, apologetic when realizing you'd done nothing wrong.

Finally, although you were suppressing the urge to cough at the dry scratchiness of your throat, you finished eating, and, like you knew you were supposed to, stood with a forced little smile and grabbed your plate, extending a hand for him to give you his as well, and took them both back to the larger kitchen area through the open doorway, barely hearing his ‘thanks’ as you scurried off.

You set the plates down, immediately turning on a faucet and cupping water in your hand, before drinking it down to soothe your throat.

Alright, so things didn't turn out quite like you were hoping, but that was ok. There was plenty of the substance left. Just wait a few days, do it again, and control yourself better next time so as not to strike any suspicion. Easy.

The maids would take care of washing plates off, but you needed to dispose of the remainder of your drugging attempt just in case. There was only droplets of juice left in his, and, of course, yours was full. You washed his — well, originally yours — out first, running some water over it, thinking it would be odd if one was washed out and not the other, and you didn’t want to take any chances.

You heard him walk into the kitchen behind you, and unease creeped back up into your chest. But that wasn’t so bad, right? He’d think you were trying to help the staff out, and he’d think that was good, wouldn’t he?

You hummed a bit, and set his glass upside down in its proper place, reaching out to yours and preparing to pour it down the sink drain, when his hand latched around your wrist. You went stiff.

"You should finish it."

Any confidence that you had successfully eased his suspicions might as well have been poured down the drain as well.

"...Hm?" You forced a smile, albeit twitching. “O-oh, I just didn't... finish all of..." You were painfully aware that your voice trembled, and, in a last effort to appear like you weren't nervous, forced yourself to turn your head and look at him.

"You didn't drink it at all." His face was flat and cold, eyes ever so slightly narrowed, but his voice was dark, quiet, knowing. "It's good for you. Don't let it go to waste."

You couldn't argue that you didn't like it — it was the same thing you drank every single night. Nor could you confess why you didn't want to do so. Of course, drinking it was technically an option. You'd just pass out and be forced to deal with the consequences once you woke up — although the cynical part of your mind thought maybe passing out wouldn't be too bad right about now.

Now, the expression on his face grew darker, fully obvious as a look of accusation, and the tone that followed matched.

“Unless there's something wrong with it.”

Your mind scrambled, unable to think of a way out. Your smile widened and twitched, and your body shivered, trying and failing to force a look of happiness, but the crushing feeling of defeat was beginning to settle in. "I... ah, hah, I, um..."

His expression and voice didn't waver, in contrast to your cowering. Looking down on you with something like frustration, perhaps disappointment. There was the slightest edge of a quietness in it, as he continued, "If there is, then tell me."

The last two words came out firm. A command.

"I... I..." You swallowed, visibly shaking, no longer able to hide the fear on your features. You bit your lower lip, and, feeling your eyes burn, your resolve broke.

You hung your head, and replied in a quiet voice, wavering on the verge of tears.

"...I'm sorry."

He released your hand, but snatched the glass out from it, immediately dumping the mixture down the sink. You reached up, wiping away the watering in your eyes that were threatening to become tears.

"Where is it?"

You stiffened at the firmness in his voice. You tried your best to look up, questioning in a pathetic whimper. "...Hm?"

"The— I don't know, whatever you put in there. Where is it?" There was a rising frustration in his tone.

You hadn't thought about that part. Of course, how could you not realize he'd do that if he found out? There wouldn't be another opportunity to try again. That realization left a sting of despair in your chest, you chastised yourself for not saving a smaller portion hidden away. If you'd been smart, you would have prepared for this possible outcome, and saved some so that he would think he'd taken it all. Dammit.

For a moment, you were silent.

"Tell me."

You tensed up, biting your lip.

You were afraid, but it also made you angry. The commanding, authoritative tone, as if he owned you, as if he had any right to tell you what to do. There was a time where you would have responded to anyone who spoke in such a way to you with equal aggression, if not outright violence. Your pride swelled in your chest, digging its heels in at the thought of being obedient, sickened by the notion of giving in.

At your hesitation, he said your name.

It was a low tone, a clear warning in response to your defiant silence. You jolted, and scurried over to the other side of the kitchen, trying to bite your lip, hands trembling as you opened the cabinet and pulled out the container and turned around, hanging your head and standing stiff with fear and humiliation as he took it from your hand and read the front of the package.

He sighed, but as he did, some of the tension seemed to roll off his frame. "...Oh. That." He caught the confused expression you had at those words, and elaborated. "I thought it would be—” he cut off and took another heavy breath, whether out of exasperation or relief or both, you weren't sure. “I thought you were trying to poison me again… or kill me.”

"No," you shook your head rapidly. “I wouldn't… do that…” Granted, you may have very well have chosen take the chance if it was an option, but such honesty would be ill-advised when your current objective was to deescalate the situation you'd landed yourself in, and hopefully quell any further anger before it emerged.

Yes, this was practical, you told yourself — and more importantly, told your wounded sense of pride. You were just being practical, strategic.

Besides, the sedative was the only thing you had available, anyway… well, had had available, since it was now certainly going to be taken from you.

You stood perfectly still as he moved, pulling a key out of his pocket, mumbling something about how he had no idea how that even got there, as he unlocked what you had come to refer to in your mind as the "forbidden" cabinet  — where all the various dangerous things lay, such as knives, skewers, rat poison (moved there after the previous incident), bleach even.

You were aware that he and all the staff members possessed a key, as you'd sometimes catch maids or other workers accessing it for various purposes, so you assumed it was there solely to keep those things out of your reach. It had started out as a few knives, but the collection had slowly built over time due to your creativity with what remained at your disposal.

“And here you were actually starting to improve,” he mumbled. The words were heavily laden with exhaustion, frustration.

You clenched your fists. The words crawled under your skin, bothered you viscerally, knowing there was truth to them. Thinking back, over the past few weeks, you'd become more complacent and behaved than you'd ever been prior — part of it had been an act, sure, but a creeping dense of paranoia made you wonder if you’d been settling into it, if it had been starting to become natural. You rejected the thought, insisting otherwise to both him and yourself.

“That's— that's only because I've been here so long… you're wrong…”

Even though the words were spoken weakly, the mere act of disagreement was not within the boundaries of complacency and acceptable behavior. It was not normal for your good wife act. The defiance was slowly bubbling up to the surface, and you could tell from the way you say you saw his jaw visibly clench, that he noticed that as much as you did.

He narrowed his eyes as he turned his head towards you, before shaking his head and returning to putting the offending substance away. He was moving some of the things around to make space for the new object, placing it inside before locking the doors shut again, back turned to you.

But then, there was only more silence as he reached up to rub at the side of his temple with one of his hands.

You hoped for the best, that perhaps the lack of murderous intent on your part would serve to significantly lessen his anger, or that due to contrast, he would view trying to sedate him as a petty offense. Trivial. Overlookable.

“But why would you even want to knock me out…?” He trailed off, looking to the ground in pensiveness. And then, the worst thing you feared happened — the exact intent seemed to click with him.

Your gaze cast to the floor, you could just see him move out of the corner of your eye, walking back towards you, but in fear, you couldn't bring yourself to look up. You saw his feet facing yours as you looked down, and a shadow cast over your hanging head. He was standing right in front of you, and, perhaps out of pride, or perhaps accepting it was inevitable anyway, you forced yourself to look up, eye-to-eye, his own narrowed with disdain.

“…You were going to put me to sleep so you could run off again.”

You stiffened. “No,” you immediately rushed to your own defense. “I just—”

“Yes, you were. Don't—” he huffed, finishing his sentence with gritted teeth, “don't lie to me.”

“I'm not!” Your words that time came out more angry than fearful, your own frustration with everything beginning to balance our your fear.

“I just said—” he cut his words short and took a deep breath, reaching up to rest his face in his hand in a gesture of exasperation. His next words were not as intensely angered, more of a tired frustration laden in them. “You really never learn, do you.”

The words, simple as they were, had a strong effect.

Your fear and anger dwelled in your heart in a state of coexistence — you’d been tamed enough that avoiding pain and consequence was your usual priority, with the anger, the inherent defiance in your spirit, taking a secondary place. But with the right choice of words, the right circumstances, that same defiant spirit that he so very much hated, that he worked so hard to erase, would come bouncing back. A routine you’d been through more than once by now.

That same spirit of defiance had slowly been rising, had been your whole reason for your attempt, but with that, the switch flipped. Your hands balled into fists at your side.

“Learn what?!” Your voice came out louder than before. “Goddammit, I—”

The irritation on his features grew. “Don't raise your voice. And for the millionth time, watch your mouth.”

“I'll do what I want!” You leaned your upper body forward in exertion. “You’re the one that never lets me go anywhere! I wouldn't have done it if you didn't keep me locked up like an animal!”

His head snapped up fully at your voice, eyes narrowing into a glare.

“Don't get an attitude with me.”

Your eye twitched. That was one of your many rules that you so despised, the one you were most frequently found guilty of violating. Commands you were held to for no other reason than the desires of someone else, a projection of an ideal you were so brutally forced to conform to. Don't raise your voice, don't get a bad attitude, don't walk so loud, don't slouch, don't curse, don't make that face, don't talk back. The “don't” commands were bad enough, but the expectation of the inverse, the image you had to conform to, was even worse. To be nice, to sit there and smile and do whatever was instructed without so much as a complaint. Those were the good traits that you were supposed to have, that you were to be instilled with — as if a wild animal to be caught and domesticated.

A dam holding back your emotions seemed to break. You finally raised you voice fully, nearly yelling.

“It's your fault for making me stay in here in the first place, you bastard!” You snarled. “You keep acting like this is normal and it's not! You kidnapped me, dammit! You're mad at me for breaking your stupid rules when you're the one committing a fucking crime!”

You were speaking with such forceful anger you leaned forward with the exertion, panting heavy breaths, hands curled into fists. Your fury reached a peak, throwing aside all regard for whatever line your next words may cross.

"And you know what? I don't belong to you, I'm not your — I'm not anyone's goddamn dainty little fucking housewife! I don’t have to listen to a damn word you say, you bastard, you—”

You hesitated to finish your sentence, about to deliver another onslaught of curses, but stopped short when you tilted your gaze up, and your eyes met.

His eyes narrowed, staring at you with something like abject disgust, irritation, exasperation, but the silence was what amplified your dread the most. A single second of heavy, tense quiet passed, and then you saw him reach down to his waist, grasping at the front of his belt and unfastening it before pulling the other end, rapidly pulling the whole thing out of the loops.

“Come here.”

A very firmly-spoken command. Your stomach felt as if it flipped over on itself, a sudden cold feeling across your flesh, a learned response. You took a step back, drawing your hands up to your chest in a defensive reflex.

You hesitated, feet spread apart as if to move, but in what direction you weren't certain. Your eyes darted to the left and right, and froze as your gaze settled on the arch leading to the hallway.

Which he must have noticed, given the look he shot you. His voice grew quieter, more foreboding. “Don’t you dare run. Come here. Now.”

You had not yet fucked up quite this badly before, not done something to this magnitude — poisoned him, yes, and had outbursts, yes, but never back-to-back, the offenses stacking on top of each other. That outburst just then was the most vicious one you'd had since you woke up here, and you would be given far less lenience now than then. The thoughts of past punishments for even mild transgressions crossed through your mind. The blood drained from your face, your heartrate picked up faster.

It was stupid, really. So, so stupid, so futile, and had you really thought about it, you would know how pointless it was. But in the moment, you weren't operating so much on reason, so much as the dread in your gut and instinct.

For that reason, you turned in the opposite direction, bolted through the door to the hall, and took off running.

"Wh—” You heard the sound in his throat cut off as you bolted, clearly taken aback by the choice of action, but soon followed by a throaty groan of frustration you could hear all too well.

You didn't even really know where you were going. Nor what you planned to accomplish. The building was large, there were plenty of hallways to run down and turns to take — you turned left at the end of the room, then took and immediate right, unable to remember the structure enough to coordinate any plan of action as to where to run, just following the need to run away.

The doors were always locked from the inside and out now, one set of locks to keep intruders out and the other to keep you in. Breaking glass windows was a risk you didn't want to take, and it would alert anyone nearby to your location immediately and would only serve to greatly increase any potential consequence. Thus, for the time being, perhaps you were looking more for a place to hide. Maybe if you could just do that, find a place to cower and wait out the brunt of his anger, he would calm down by the time you came out.

Well, really, you knew that probably wasn’t doable, but it was nice to at least think for a moment.

And a moment was all you got.

You hesitated as you reached a spot where the hall split into two different corridors, and that one moment of hesitation was enough to close the gap between you. You squealed and flailed as a hand forcefully grabbed at your hair, pulling you back.

“Ow!” You squirmed, the balls of your bare feet thumping on the hardwood as they stumbled to regain your balance. “Let—let me go! Ow, ow, that hurts—”

“Hold still.” The command was firm, a foreboding voice that made your heart race.

The fabric around your torso pulled taut against your skin as he took a fistful of the back side of it, other arm harshly wrapping around your waist before you felt your weight lift upward, feet leaving the ground.

You thrashed, but even doing so to the best of your ability had no effect. His grip didn’t budge.

You grunted as you were effectively slung over his shoulder. He started moving forward, footsteps heavy and frustrated. “Gh!” You squirmed, flailed, all to no avail.

Your resistance began to falter in realization of the futility of fighting the now-inevitable, groaning in miserable anger and weakly bringing your clenched fists down on his back as you were, with seemingly little effort, carried down the hall, taking a turn and ascending up the staircase. It was only a short distance from the top to the bedroom door, which opened in a swift, furious motion, likewise slamming shut behind you.

You grunted as you were thrown down onto the mattress. You put your hands down and pushed yourself upward, beginning to try and crawl away, but a hand caught you by the back of your shirt again, pushing your upper body down. You made a rough, irritated noise in the back of your throat as you squirmed, but soon your hands were pinned behind your back, leaving you face down with your hips in the air.

You inhaled a sharp gasp of air and stiffened when you felt the skirt end if the dress hike up, the waistband beneath pulled down, cool air on your bare flesh.

“Wait wait, no, I'm sorry—”

You instinctively jerked forward, squirming, heart beginning to pound in your chest. You had had enough experience to know that this was far more painful on bare skin, as if the humiliation ritual of it all wasn't bad enough.

You felt like a petulant child, begging and whimpering. You tried to move, but the hand pushing down and your knees being positioned right on the edge of the bed effectively forced you into holding the position, with no way to move.

“Then you should have thought about that before you decided to do what you did.” There was no trace of mercy or empathy in his voice. “This is entirely your fault.”

“But I—”

You cut off with a squeal, body lurching forward as sharp pain came down on the sensitive skin on your ass, the smacking sound echoing in your ears. Your jaw clenched, muscles tensing. He wasn't holding back either, one strike was enough to make your eyes begin to water.

“This wouldn't have to keep happening—”

Another strike on the enunciated word. You hissed a sharp breath through clenched teeth and groaned, hips reflexively jerking forward in an attempt to pull away, to no avail.

“—if you could just—”

Another strike. You winced and stiffened, groaning and straining your muscles pulling against the firm hold forcing you in place.

“—give it up—”

And yet another.

“—and learn to behave.”

Another and another and another, three in quick succession. You yelped and jolted at each, a miserable sound coming out of your throat. Unable to maintain enough pride to hold them back, tears streamed down your face.

“Stop, stop…” you whimpered. “It hurts…”

But the only reply you got was calloused and merciless.

“It’s supposed to.”

The next strike was harder than the previous ones. You squealed, taking deep, gasping breaths. Your legs trembled.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, I won't do it again—”

“You said that last time.”

Your heart sank. You didn't have any reply other than to whimper in misery and anticipation, turning to a throaty cry of pain as you were struck again.

“It's for your own good. You would be happier if you just give in. But you insist—”

The leather came down hard. Your shoulders wracked with a sob, completely breaking the last of your resolve to hold back your reactions.

“—on being stubborn.”

The belt came down again, your body jolting and face contorting with the pain once more.

It was the final strike to drive you over the edge.

"I'm sorry!"

You couldn't speak further for a moment, having to take a few heaving gasps. Your shoulders jerked with a sob, sniffling, tears streaming down your face.

The only thing outweighing the stinging, striking pain itself was the tight feeling in your chest of humiliation and bitterness. It was intended as such, of course, to hurt not only your body, but your pride as well.

Your body trembled, heaving breaths and whimpers filling the following quiet. Perhaps your misery was finally deemed worthy of mercy, as despite your tensing in anticipation, no further sudden pain followed, only the lingering, hot sting on your bare flesh.

There was only a heavy sigh.

“Are you done being a brat?”

You sniffled, nodding your head against the sheets. “Mmhm…”

There was a momentary pause, perhaps giving you the opportunity to catch your mistake on your own. After you failed to do so within a few moments, the hand around your wrists tightened, a wordless threat. A brief panic surged through your mind, but you realized where you'd erred within a second.

Still, even though you opened your mouth, taking a breath to speak, some last little spark of stubborn pride flickered up, bitter and spiteful, and for a moment, you refused to give in to it, the one rule you so deeply resented more than any other.

And then he said your name — a foreboding, low tone, a warning.

Thus the brief moment of dignity was extinguished in a single word. You practically blubbered out the words, distorted by your sniffling and slurring.

“Y-yes sir…”

Finally, the grip on your wrists released.

“Good.”

You slumped forward, trembling hands reaching out to pull yourself further onto the bed before you went limp on your stomach and still, head spinning and exhaustion setting in as you came down from the high of the expense of so much energy and stress. As your head cleared, you became aware of the discomfort of wetness on your face, reaching up wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand. The sting was bad enough that you didn’t even bother pulling your clothes back into place to cover yourself, not wanting the fabric to brush against the now-sensitive skin.

There was a long moment of quiet. You weakly turned your head, seeing the pensive look on his face, eyebrows furrowed and looking at the ground. Something about it felt ominous, made your stomach shaft to churn.

“This keeps happening in a cycle,” he muttered, a low voice, almost as if speaking more to himself than you. “You start to improve, and then you regress again.”

Had you not been so utterly weary, not to mention bearing the lingering sting to your backside, you might have gotten defensive, snapped at him over referring to succumbing to the spiritual torment of your life as improvement. But now, spirit already broken as it could be for one day — at least, so you believed in that moment — you only closed your eyes, trying to ignore him. Maybe you could rest your body, at least a little, before the inevitable disturbance of a different form of exertion.

But when you squeezed your eyes shut, as always, the thoughts came rushing through your mind, emotions and recollections all at once, too intense for you to bear. Thinking through everything over again, your mistakes that led you to where you were now — not so much the events of the last hour, and more the grand scheme of things, how much you regretted ever making eye contact with him, or ever setting foot in that damn tavern.

Each and every day, you replayed the final conversation you two had had, sitting there in his own bar after everyone else had gone home, with you insisting on drinking more until you were content. After so much time — or perhaps due to the effect of the drugs, or the alcohol — you'd forgotten what the whole of the conversation was even about, only your response to one of those half-muttered comments about how this or that behavior of yours was unattractive, how you'd never get married if you kept it up, or any of the other things he said that irked you so.

You'd glared, snapping at him.

What makes you think you get to tell me what to do?

The only other thing you remembered — no, it was perfectly burned into your memory, crystal-clear despite your intoxication at the time — was the way he'd frozen, the look on his face when you'd said it, the glimpse you'd caught of it for a mere second. Slack-jawed, eyebrows furrowed, staring down at you with some amalgamation of disbelief, fury, and pure, unadulterated disgust.

Well, it wasn't the only thing you remembered — he'd walked away for a moment, you'd nearly drifted off in drunken haze, and something was shoved into your hands, you drank it without question (like an idiot, you often reprimanded yourself) and then, the next memory was waking up in his bed.

It played over, and over, and over, as you lay there shivering, cold and exhausted. As much as you resented him, you couldn’t help but feel enraged with yourself, each time you thought back to each interaction. That you didn’t recognize that something was wrong, that the degree of quiet malice he seemed to hold for you was unnatural, obsessive, dangerous. You’d just shrugged it off as just being his nature. Such an idiot, you thought to yourself. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

A heavy sigh pulled you out of your thoughts.

“…”

Whatever he was actually now thinking, though, he didn’t say aloud.

Instead, predictably, his hands grabbed at your thighs, pulling you back across the bed. The same familiar knot of dread began to twist in your chest again.

You groaned, a sound of combined exasperation, pain and exhaustion. Your voice came out weak. “N-no, don’t… it’ll hurt too much…” Despite your verbal protest, you couldn’t actually summon the will to do much more than a weak squirming with your body as the dress was pulled up. Your attempts to hold your arms down proved futile as they were easily grabbed and maneuvered to allow him to pull the clothing off entirely, throwing it onto the mattress.

“It’s not going to hurt you,” was his only reply, an assured and matter-of-fact tone, like it was an objective, predetermined truth that you were foolish to contest. His hands moved to your hips, pulling on them to pull you back into your prior positioning. “It only hurts because you don’t relax enough.”

You might have remarked that the two back-to-back statements were quite the contradiction, but in the moment you were too lost in a combination of daze and panic to be too sarcastic. The pull jolted your mind back into full clarity. You tried to push yourself up on your hands, but his hand pressed to your back again, holding you in place.

“Wait, wait—”

You cut off in a shrill wail, toes curling and legs kicking out reflexively as the sting of the stretch set in. Your back arched in a reactive attempt to get away from the sudden intrusion that felt like it was splitting you apart, cleaving your body in half.

"Just—just hold still," his grip on your wrists tightened as your hands attempted to jerk back. He moved one hand to the other, taking both your wrists in one hand so he could reach down to your hips with the other, grabbing at one with a bruising grip and holding you still in place before sliding out, then back in, a second time, then a third.

You gritted your teeth, tears forming in your eyes anew as your body tensed up. The friction burned, the stretch ached. "It hurts," you whimpered, speaking through your teeth gritted in pain. "You-you're tearing me apart..."

"Just relax. You’re too tense.”

“I can’t just—gh!”

His arm shifted from pressing you down to wrapping around your torso, pulling your upper body back up from behind, while also preventing you from pulling yourself forward, and instead pulling your body closer against his, bouncing you back and forth on his cock. Each movement brought your ass bouncing back against his hips, a harsh sting on still-sensitive flesh.

"A-ah, ah…” you clamped down on reflex, trembling hands reaching behind you to push him back, but you were so weak it did nothing. “Wait, wait…” Your words came out slurred and strained.

Suddenly, to your surprise, the movement actually stopped. There was a moment of pause, and for that moment, you actually believed maybe you were receiving whatever semblance of mercy the man was capable of.

You heard his heavy breathing in your ear, felt him let his head fall downward for a moment, as if in thought.

Then, his hands moved once more — this time, one grasping at your waist, forcing your back into an arch, the other reaching up, palm against your throat and his fingers curling to grasp your jaw.

“Fight me off.”

With that, he pulled back, and slammed forward again. You squealed, every muscle tensing and spasming at the ripples of sensation it sent through your nerves.

“What? I don't— what are you—”

Another harsh, slamming thrust cut you off.

“Remember what you said before? When you first came here?” His words were spoken in a low, dark tone, dripping with vengeful spite. His fingernails dug into the flesh of your face. “You told me you didn't need anyone.”

The hand on your hip tightened its grip as you pulled your hips forward, jerking you back as his own hips snapped forward, the motion ramming into you in full all the way down to the base, the flesh of your ass pressed up against his hip bones.

“You said you were strong, that you didn't need protection.” The grip tightened, painfully pressing down. “You said you could take care of yourself.” His fingers curled further into your skin. “Remember that?”

Even in such a flat tone, his voice felt utterly mocking. The defiance you'd thought he'd already drained from your spirit began to surge back up in full force, a burning rage filling your chest.

“If you're so strong,” he continued, words muddled with heavy panting breaths, bouncing you back and forth with increasing pace, “then you should have no problem—” he took another heavy breath, next words coming out as half-spoken, half-hissed through clenched teeth, “fighting me off.”

You stiffened, eye twitching, a rough throaty sound of fury coming from your mouth as you began to squirm, to no avail.

“Come on. Prove it.” His voice grew more intense, lower, harsher. “Push me off. Do it.”

You practically growled, an animalistic sound, savagely reaching up to claw at the hand gripping your jaw, pulling your body forward with all the strength you could muster.

But it was nothing by comparison. As if fueled by your resistance, he only slammed into you faster and harder. At that point, the fluids leaking from your body lubricated the movements, the pain ebbing away, replaced by a warm, tight sensation, pressing against the spots in your body that made you melt, the sheer stretch becoming pleasurable.

“Or maybe you're wrong.” He jerked your head back to the point that the side of your face touched his, his heavy panting warm against your ear. “Maybe you should accept that you're weak.”

The grip on your jaw caused his palm to dig into your throat, not enough to choke you fully, but enough to cause discomfort.

“You need someone to— you need me.” His head titled ever so slightly downward, his hair brushing against the back of your neck.

Trying to turn your head away proved futile, the iron grip keeping it just as firmly locked in place as your body.

“You're so naive. The weak are supposed to be self-aware.” He spoke through clenched teeth, intense anger seeping into his voice. “But you had to go and act so tough—”

A harsher thrust than any of the ones preceding it, so hard you gagged on air, unable to even scream.

“—and be so goddamn mouthy all the time.”

Your strained, animalistic noises continued, pulling your body forward with every single ounce of strength you were physically capable of.

You didn't move. It felt as if you were trying to pull yourself out of steel chains, pure futility. Your arms trembled with the strain, and yet you didn't budge.

“As if I couldn't just reach over and break you any time I felt like it.”

Your toes curled, muscles tensing in pleasure-pain, each movement ramming into a spot that sent sparks of pleasure up your spine, whilst also causing the flesh of your backside to slap against his hips, sending jolts of pain through your body all at once.

“As if any of those guys you were such a little bitch to couldn’t have done the same.”

Sweat coated your skin, running down your back. The bed creaked, violently slamming against the frame. He pulled you so close that your shoulder blades pressed to his chest.

“Do you have any idea how easy this is? I'm not even trying.”

The words felt like a knife to your chest. In the past, you'd been irritated by you inferior physical strength, but admittedly you hadn't stopped to really think more deeply about the matter of your inability to free yourself, in the bigger picture of things.

A heavy, cold feeling began to seep out of your heart, through your chest, into your blood. A dawning realization of your total powerlessness, of your weakness. It was harrowing, brutal, and unforgiving.

You took heavy, gasping breaths. The intensity of every sensation was too much, driving you to a brink of what felt like madness. The ache in your body, the chill in your blood, the pleasure and the sting and the despair.

Your resolve broke. You went limp, panting, eyes watering with bitterness and fury, hot tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes, weak voice coming out as a blubbering whimper, broken up by the incessant thrusts jerking your body back and forth.

“I-I’m, I'm so, sorr-eee…”

The only reply you got was a single word.

“Good.”

You closed your watery, burning eyes. If you couldn't escape in reality, you could at least escape in your mind, desperately trying to block out the thoughts and the shame and the bitterness, trying to focus on sensation, feeling, the way you trembled at the pleasure. The way the sharp sting and the heat of the pleasure began to blur together, the pain itself only intensifying the rising tight, warm feeling inside.

You threw your head back to rest against his chest, whimpering like an animal. Your hands now only weakly reached behind you, grasping at his torso, neither pulling nor pushing. Each movement grew move intense, somehow even harder and harder still, inhumanly fast, flesh slapping against flesh, the sound amplified by the slick and sweat that coated the skin where your bodies conjoined. Your body began to quiver.

The climax that came over you was not the strongest you'd ever had — your body was far too exhausted and pained to even summon such a thing — but the high shot through your body nonetheless, waves of intensity rushing throughout. You let out a long, high-pitched sound as it peaked and ebbed away, mind slipping into a state of nothingness, a fog so thick you might as well have been unconscious.

You barely felt the motions stop, the way you were lowered down to rest on your stomach. Your attention was only briefly pulled to the surface of your consciousness with the sudden sensation of emptiness, the way your insides spasmed to clench on empty space, the chill that set in as the sweat began to cool over your body, and finally the shifting of the mattress as weight settled onto the other side, sitting beside your limp form.

And then, as your consciousness swayed, one faint little thought kept you from slipping away.

Something was different. You were limp and numb from the stupor, mind lost in a haze, but a faint sense of alarm slowly drug your consciousness back to alertness. Something was different, something was wrong.

You shifted, muscles reflexively clamping down on the now-empty space, and stiffened as you felt something fluid ooze out of your slit, drooling down your flesh and onto your thigh.

“Did… did you… cum… inside me…?”

You turned towards the figure blurred by the residual tears and dizziness. You could make out him sitting there, the bright red hair and the flesh tone of his unclothed upper body, see him running his hand over the top of his head, pushing sweat-drenched strands of hair back.

Your stupor had left your eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, but they immediately snapped back fully open as the next words registered with your ears, spoken in a fully nonchalant, matter-of-fact tone.

“This will be good for you.”

You sat up — a movement that took effort, nearly falling back down on hands still trembling with aftershock, and looked up at him with panicked confusion plastered on your face. “…Huh… what?”

Now you could make out his eyes, looking into yours, continuing on in the same blunt voice, as if speaking of a trivial matter.

“…I was waiting. I thought it would be a bad idea to give you a kid before you showed some improvement.” After a moment of pause as he sat more upright, he continued, “But thinking about it, that could be part of the reason you're so badly behaved to begin with. You're… imbalanced or something.”

He held a hand out palm-up in a casual gesture.

“So, it will calm you down.”

You stared, slack-jawed and wide-eyed in disbelief and horror.

“That's—” you twitched. Your voice was hoarse, each word hurt, as if dragging broken glass down your throat. “You're insane. You can't— you can't do this to me. I can't do that!”

“You're being overdramatic.”

“Overdramatic?!” You pushed the heels of your hands into the mattress to propel yourself backwards, crawling away from him as if it would do any good. “No, you don't understand, I… I can't…!”

Your breathing began to speed up, right alongside your heart rate. Panic consumed your train of thought. The implications of the very notion were, for you, world-ending — it would change everything, it would debilitate you and any hopes you had of ever leaving. Even beyond that, just the mere thought, the mental image the idea created, made you shudder.

You looked down. Between your legs, some of the cum had begun to ooze out onto the sheets.

Right, you could extract it all, to the best of your ability, and hope for the best. Your legs were trembling so badly you weren't certain if you could support your own weight, but nonetheless, you tried to make your way to the edge of the bed.

“No, no, I… I need to go wash off—”

“No, you're not.” His hand latched onto your arm, roughly pulling you back. You fell onto your side with a grunt.

You stiffened and whimpered as you felt two of his fingers wipe the inside of your thigh, collecting the semen that had slipped out with gravity and your movement, and pressed the fingers back inside of you, not wanting any to go to waste.

“Don't move around so much.”

Panic turned into aggression, like a cornered animal. Your nose wrinkled up with the furious expression that crossed your face.

“There is no way in hell I'm—”

Your words cut off once more as his hand latched onto your jaw, eyes narrowing.

“…Do you want to do this over again?” He tilted your head up, forcing you to look him in the eye. “Because I have no problem with that, if you keep mouthing off.”

You froze up again. The despair took hold. You didn't have any more fight left in you. It wasn't worth it, you couldn't handle another round with the belt.

You bit your lip, shaking your head. It wasn't until he sighed, and gave you an irritated look that you recognized your mistake once again.

“…No, sir…”

He closed his eyes, seemingly content with the rectification. “Good.” He pulled you down further, until you were lying on your side. “It's late enough to go to bed. You need sleep.”

You lay motionless, aside from the still-lingering shivering, watching as he shuffled off the remainder of his clothes and turned off the nearby lamp, plunging the room into near-darkness, before laying back down, turning back towards you, pulling you close.

His arm wrapped around your back, keeping your body pressed to his. Your face rested against his collarbones.

He shifted a bit, causing his hand to just barely brush over your backside — you stiffened, sucking a sharp breath in through your teeth.

“Mm, sorry.”

The half-hearted, sleepy mutter was all you got — an apology you knew was only for the momentary accidental touch and not the pain itself. That would be deemed deserved and justified, should you ever complain, and would probably earn you the same punishment again.

Your face scrunched up with misery, as if about to cry, but your body couldn't produce any more tears.

“Night.”

You felt the rumbling in his chest against yours. You swallowed the lump in your throat before you replied, voice barely more than a whisper.

“…Goodnight…”

There was still a little bit of light coming in through the window — it wasn't even really fully dark yet, the last few rays of purplish twilight visible in the sky.

You wondered if you'd ever see it from any other view than the estate ever again — but pushed the thought away, as you didn't like what you thought might be the answer, nor the way it made you think of the conversation that transpired moments prior.

You closed your eyes, shifted around a bit and — wincing at the fluid that drooled down your leg — tried your best to rest.

[onelittlespiral]

FML: Dominance

I loved my boyfriend dearly, but things sometimes just did not fit. He was perfect everywhere but in bed. I was tired of always having to be the one to top, tired of always needing to take care of always being in control. I decided to make a few changes.

One night, as you were making out I told him I wanted to try something new with him. I told him I was going to turn on some porn while I got ready for some special fun. I had found a website that had promised to provide a video that would change my sweet bottom to someone a little more… gruff. I started up the video, and firmly held my boy in my lap. I looked away as a spiral danced on screen, and I could feel him start to resist. “No, what is this? What is this!?”

I held him firmly and whispered in his ear “Hush, it will be okay babe. Look at how relaxing it is. Just ease your mind, it won’t hurt. You want to be good for me don’t you?”

The spiral continued to turn and I could feel his struggle weaken as he became completely entranced. His eyes were wide and his mouth drooling. His mind was ready for some changes.

I stepped aside and began to watch him as the video began to give its instructions:

“You have always been such a good boy. But good boys need to grow into good men. You want to grow don’t you?”

“You feel yourself maturing, developing into a healthy young man. Men are strong, men take control, men can dominate. They know when to bulk and when to trim the fat.”

Quickly, my boyfriend began to age up a bit. He landed around 27. As he aged, he proceeded to mature. His thin body developed strong muscles as new pecs pushed out of his chest. Arms pulsed as muscle poured in. A deep V was established as abs were sucked out of his body.

“A strong torso needs a strong base. Men support themselves where boys are sometimes weak, physically and mentally”

Legs strengthened and toned, strengthened and toned as they went through years of training. Toes curled as feet cracked wide and reshaped into thick slabs to support the new weight.

At the same time his brows developed a deep furrow, as though his mind was working overtime.

“Grooming is important to strong men, especially gay men. Boyish locks give way to straight hair and fur. They smell and look fresh. ”

His hair straightened as facial hair pushed out of his jaw, leaving a fine mustache and a fine layer of stubble. The patch of hair on his chest wrapped around his muscle, cradling his pecs and abs, emphasizing their strength. I began to quietly rub myself as my new boyfriend was taking shape.

“Men don’t bottom. They… They……”

And the video began to buffer.

My boyfriend quickly came to his senses, and glanced over at me, confused.

“Hey man, what are you doing in my room?”

“Your room? Babe, this is our room.”

“Dude, not this again. I broke up with you years ago. You were always so… boyish. When are you going to mature?”

A sinking feeling hit, “Nonono, come on. Work you stupid thing, work.” I rushed over to the computer and tried refreshing the page.

Right then, the video glitched back on, me standing in front of the computer. I stumbled back to try to avoid it, but my boyfriend caught me. His eyes had already begun to glaze over as I was now subjected to the spiral. My will to.. resist qu…quickly… faaaaded.

“Men… fur…strong. The strong… smell… of men.”

My boyfriend, subjected to a second round, began to erupt in fur. It covered every inch of his torso as he began to sweat with the effort. The thick forest trapped the sweat quickly as a musk began to permeate the air. I too felt electric as my body began to push out a beard of my own, and sweat gleamed on my forehead.”

“Torso… bulk and…fat… accents muscle.”

He began to develop a fine layer of pudge that filled out his body. He looked as though a bulk had gone just a little too far but it perfectly accented the strength in his arms and chest. Myself lacking in much muscle, I began to feel warm as a mix of muscle and fat poured onto my frame together, leaving me panting at the new strength.

“Men…bottom…and top…Dominant…and horny.”

We both began to glance at each other as we felt the next changes hit. Our cocks began swelling….5…6…7…8…9 inches and hard as steel. We began rubbing our bulges as balls became heavy with new sperm. I began to feel the need to pin him down. I wanted to fight him, to get on top, to feel control. At the same time, I wanted him to mount me and ride me like the stallion I was. To feel worshiped. To feel power. I caught him wink at me, out of the corner of my eye, and I needed to pound him right there, but the spiral kept control.

“Support…strength…physically…gay…bro-… mentally.”

I felt my eyes widen as a steady stream of drool poured out my mouth. Exercise regiments and nutrition filled in where college and high school had been. I felt my brain come down to a slog as I just felt the need to… workout and… fuck…just…take…overrr…bruuuuh. A dumb chuckle started next to me and I found myself joining in, unsure what I was even laughing at.

“Good…men…when this video comes to an end… comes to… come… cum… CUM.”

Two shots of jizz arched to coat the screen as to deep grunts were released into the air. I turned to my boyfriend and he looked back at me. God he was beautiful. He was such a good looking bro. I needed to… I needed… I needed him.

———————————————————————

“You ready to submit to daddy this week?” My boyfriend texted, showing off his gains this week. I could smell his musk and taste his cock from here.

“Fuck no bro. You’re going to be moaning on this pole tonight. You better clean out that bussy.” I shot back with a pic of my own.

He was always a bit more cut, both in his muscles and his beard, but I was just as strong and ready to dominate him. I couldn’t wait to get done with our couples workout, grab some fuel, and fuck my man silly. Well, sillier than he already was, bro.

[mindmelter]

Five Alien Hosts: Adventures In Italy (Part 1) - Vacation

(This series is a Sequel of "Five Aliens On Board Of Hunks". So before diving into this story, I recommend reading its prequel. Although this chapter still works on its own. Enjoy it.)

_____________________________

Victor and the five alien controlled hunks landed in Italy, they were now at the airport waiting for Victor's next orders.

"So, what's the plan, Master? I've already canceled all my host's meetings for the week, just like you asked me." Sylo, the alien bug inside the man's brain, said.

Victor sighed and sat in front of him. He ran his hand through his hair as he analyzed the situation they were in. "I'm still thinking about it. The plan was to release all five of you once we arrived at the resort. Then, you guys would take over some of the hot Italian guests there. But I wasn't expecting the five of you to disobey my orders and take over these five hunks on the plane..."

"Do Master wish for us to abandon our hosts?" Sylo asked.

"No, I really like the bodies you guys picked. Specially yours... don't tell your brothers but your host is my favorite. I like that you went straight for the business class for the prime meat. What is his name by the way? We should use the host's names while in public"

"His name is Alexander"

"Where was he going?"

"He was going to a business meeting here in Italy. He's quite a busy and important man. His dad owned an internacional car exporter company and of course Alexander here is now the CEO of the company"

"Interesting, having a rich host might be helpful"

Victor and Sylo's attention suddenly turned to a muscular Arab man near them: It was Grus's bodybuilder host. He was screaming to someone on the phone, he seemed very angry "Yes, that's right! I will not attend the bodybuilding competition this year... I know I said I would be there... I don't have to explain why... fuck the contracts, I want you to shove them up your ass!" He shouted hanging up the call.

"Grus really knows how to imitate the personalities of his hosts" Sylo commented.

Near the angry bodybuilder was Quin's footballer host, the football player was with his girlfriend, who was waiting for him at the airport, but now it looked like they were having a heated discussion. The couple was finally going to reunite after two months apart, well, that was before one of Victor's alien bugs crawled inside the stud's brain and took over his hot body.

"What do you mean you are travelling again? I waited for you for two months! You said you would focus on our relationship once you were back"

"I have more important things to do now" He said in a flat tone.

"More important than our relationship? What's wrong with you?" The woman shouted and pushed Quin's host. "That's it, It's over for us!" She shouted storming away. The handsome blond athlete continued standing with a blank face expression, as if his girlfriend of five years hadn't just ended their relationship. He then turned to look at Victor with his blank face and smirked, giving Victor a thumbs up.

Victor then looked at Echo's Daddy host sitting on a near seat with his wife and children. While Yinx's host was talking with the host's girlfriend, she was confused as why her boyfriend had decided not to visit her parents anymore.

Those five men boarded the plane with different plans for themselves and their loved ones. Now, they were nothing but husks for the tiny alien bugs to control. The aliens were now the ones on board their bodies, and it was now up to Victor to create a new plan for all of them. Victor then turned to Alexander.

"Only Echo's daddy host was already going to the same resort as me, all the other hosts had different plans." Victor said.

"Why don't we all go together to the resort, Master? All our hosts have canceled their appointments as you ordered, our hosts are now free of any human burden."

"But you guys don't have reservations, I only made one reservation for myself"

"You don't have to worry about that, Master. My host is a millionarie, he's the CEO of an internacional car company. He's so rich that I could rent the entire resort if I wanted. I'm sure I could arrange five reservations for him and my brothers's hosts"

"This sounds like a good plan. Connect me to the others, please" Victor ordered.

Alexander then closed his eyes and pressed his fingers on his temples for a few seconds. Victor watched as the other four hosts stopped moving to receive the mental signal. This was one of the bugs' abilities: They were able to communicate telepathically to each other. They all shared the same mental link and could communicate as long as they weren't too far away from one another.

"They are hearing you Master" Sylo's host spoke with his eyes white rolling back. Victor leaned closer to him.

"Ok, listen to me, guys. We are still going to the resort as it was the original plan, only now you will go into your new hosts. You guys know the rules..." Victor said, and Sylo passed the message to the others like a group call.

"Yes Master, while inside a host we must take their Identity as well" Alexander responded for the five of them.

"That's right, unless we are in private that you guys can stop acting like them. Now let's go, this vacation is not only for me but for you guys too. After helping me fuck with every hot guy that I wanted for the past year, you guys deserve a break"

"Thank you, Master" Sylo responded for the five of the alien bugs.

_____________________________

The next day, Victor and the five alien hosts were enjoying the Saturday morning at one of the most expensive resorts in Italy. Sylo used his host's money to pay for all the expenses, and to get the best rooms.

Victor was sharing a room with Sylo's host, Alexander.

Echo's daddy host — whose name was David — was sharing a room with his family.

Yinx's host was sharing a room with his girlfriend, who was still mad at him for changing their plans of meeting with her parents to spending a weekend at the resort.

Quin's footballer host and Grus's bodybuilder host were sharing a room together as the bodybuilder was single and the football player had just ended his long term relationship at the airport.

The night before, while Alexander was fucking Victor on their bed, Victor commanded Sylo to connect his mind with his brothers, so all the hosts could feel what Alexander was feeling. In the next room, Yinx's was fucking his host's girlfriend. In another, Quin's footballer host was getting a blowjob from Grus's bodybuilder host.

When Alexander came inside Victor, Sylo sent a powerful orgasmic signal towards every single one of the four hosts in the other rooms, in which all came together at the same time.

Victor woke up to an empty bed, Alexander wasn't in the room anymore. Victor, still lying on the bed stared at the ceiling and started to smile as he remembered all the fun he had the night before. Victor fell asleep with Alexander's hard cock buried deep inside him. Victor grunted in disappointment, he wanted to start the day with a morning fuck, so where the hell was Sylo with his hot host? He grabbed his phone on the nightstand and saw a message from Alexander.

"Good morning, Master. I'm having breakfast at the restaurant near the coast. I didn't want to wake you up so I went alone"

Victor quickly put his clothes on, and on his way to meeting with Alexander, he saw David—Echo's host—relaxing on a chair with his family. Victor passed by and admired the dad in black speedos." He couldn't believe that just a day before he was cumming on those hairy pecs in the airplane bathroom.

David grinned at Victor and unpretentiously adjusted his bulge, only Victor knew it was very much Intentional, Echo was trying to tease Victor with his new sexy Daddy host. Victor then spotted Alexander sitting at a table alone, and walked to him.

"Why don't you two just fuck each other right there in front of everyone?" Alexander joked, the restaurant area had a clear view of David.

"God, I wish I could. You guys picked the most hottest men on that plane." Victor said sitting on his side, then he took Alexander's glass of orange juice and took a sip, just for fun he spat inside and handed the glass back to Alexander, who smiled.

"You taught us how to pick the best human males."

"I sure did. I'm so lucky to have you guys in my life. These men wouldn't give me the light of the day if it wasn't for literal aliens taking over their brains."

They both laughed, then Alexander gulped down the juice. "You're right, Master. Alexander would only fuck female models. You would never be on his dating pool, but you don't have to worry about that anymore. With us in control you're the only one that they will ever have eyes on"

David blushed.

Suddendly Alexander froze for a few seconds and his eyes rolled back.

"Is everything ok?" Victor asked. Alexander then pressed two fingers on his temple.

"I'm getting a mental link from Yinx... He wants to talk with you in private.... he's at the... hotel's gym."

"I better go see what he wants" Victor said standing up. "Won't you give me a kiss, Master?" Alexander asked pulling Victor by the shirt and planting a gentle kiss on his lips.

Victor walked to the gym, once there he saw that the place was almost empty with the exception of Yinx's host — Anthony — working out at the bicycle's area.

"Hey Master!" Yinx said, giving Victor a warm smile.

"Hey sexy. I'm seeing you're really enjoying your new muscles."

"What can I say? I love working the muscles of my hosts, there's just something very addicting about this human practice, I like the pain it causes."

"Can you give me a flex? Please?"

"Of course Master"

Victor started to sweat and a tent started to form in his shorts. It was too hot to have someone like Anthony flexing for him.

"God, I will never get used to this." Victor squeezed Anthony's biceps, then lifted one arm and sniffed on his sweaty armpit, he had a strong musk and Victor wasted no time in giving it a few licks. "So, uuummffh... Sylo said you wanted to.. mmmffhhh.. talk to me?"

"Yes, follow me, Master" They both walked to a more private area at the gym, then Anthony sat on a couch.

"Earlier I was jogging and I noticed a man following me with his car, he was taking photos of me. But when I tried to confront him, he said he knew what I was and then drove off"

"That's weird. It must have been just a gay pervert. Your new host is too hot, you will attract some creeps"

"You might be right" Anthony said looking down.

"And how are you dealing with Anthony's girlfriend?"

"She's driving me insane, Master. I fucked her last night to make her happy, while I was inside her I felt Sylo sending me an orgasmic mental link. Anthony came so fast while feeling what Sylo's host was feeling. His girlfriend thought he came for her, but he actually came for you, Master"

"Wait, are you hard right now?" Victor asked.

"No I'm not" Anthony responded, playfully covering his crotch with his manly hands.

"I think you are" Victor taunted "C'mon, show me"

Victor was shocked when Anthony uncovered his crotch, there was a dark wet patch on his pants. Yinx's made Anthony cum by just remembering the night before.

"You horny bastard"

"I can't help it, I wish it was me fucking you last night, Master. It's not fair that only Sylo can share a room with you. I would love to fuck you with my new meat"

"Aaawwnn, we can make that happen, Yinx. No need to be all jealous. I have plenty of ass for the five of you"

Suddenly, Victor felt his phone buzzing inside his pocket, so he grabbed it and saw a new message from David. It was a photo of him wearing only dark blue speedos while posing to a mirror.

"Wife is out with the kids, I'm all alone now. What do you think of coming over and having some fun? This host has so much more than just some hairy pecs, you need so see his hairy ass"

"I-I have to go now" Victor said.

Yinx's host nodded and Victor made his way to David's room, his heart raced with anticipation. He couldn't wait to have some fun with Echo's host. When he arrived at the door, he knocked softly only to realize the door was already open. David's deep voice called out, "Come in."

Victor stepped inside, taking in the sight before him. David was lying on the bed, wearing only a pair of dark blue speedos that did little to hide his impressive junk.

"Hey, David," Victor said, closing the door behind him. "Thanks for the invite." He walked over to the bed and sat down beside David, their legs brushing against each other.

"No problem, buddy," David replied with a sultry smile. "I've been looking forward to this." He reached out and ran his hand through Victor's hair, making the younger man shiver. "So, what do you want to do? I'm up to anything"

Victor leaned in closer, feeling the heat emanating from David's body. "Well," he began, "I've been thinking about that message you sent me..."

David smiled, his eyes glinting in the candlelight. "You mean about my hairy ass?" He reached down and took hold of Victor's erection, stroking it gently through his pants. Victor arched into the touch, unable to hide his desire.

"Yeah," Victor whispered, his heart racing. "I've been wanting to have more fun with you since I came on your pecs on the plane." He leaned in and kissed David, their lips meeting in a passionate exchange as Victor sucked on the married dad's tongue. Their hands moved frantically over each other's bodies.

As David took Victor's clothes off, a new idea began to form in Victor's mind. He glanced down at David's hairy chest and hard erection, and suddenly he had an image in his head. "I had an Idea" he whispered into David's ear.

David looked confused for a moment, but then Victor laid down on the bed with his hard member pointing up, and looked at David with a dirty look, who got the message right away...

"Oh fuck, yeah," Victor moaned, closing his eyes and throwing his head back. "That's it Echo, make this Daddy fuck himself on my cock." And with those words, the alien-controlled daddy began to fuck himself on Victor's hard cock ever harder. Victor opened his eyes to the sight of a burly hairy family dad squatting on his cock, he watched amazed as David's pecs bounced up and down with each movement. Victor grabbed each hairy pecs with his hands, sometimes he would pinch and twist the nipples. At one moment Victor even used David's nipples as a handle to guide the Daddy up and down. Soon they came together in a erotic, otherworldly union. As they reached their climaxes, waves of pleasure washed over them. Victor came inside the host, and the host came all over Victor. The room spun around them. David's breath came in ragged gasps, his hairy chest heaving as he clenched tightly around Victor's cock.

Slowly, they began to regain their composure and their breathing returning to normal. David pulled off of Victor with a satisfied sigh, his cock still hard and glistening with their shared sweat. He reached down and started to lick Victor's body clean, erasing any trace of cum.

"That was incredible," Victor whispered, his voice husky with desire "thank you, Echo." He leaned in and kissed David gently on the lips as he caressed the man's fur.

"My pleasure, Master" David replied, putting one hand behind his head "Anytime you want some more fun, you know where to find me. This brainless Daddy is yours to use."

They both shared a laugh.

_____________________________

Later that day, Victor walked back into his room to find Alexander talking on the phone. He was speaking in a strange language — was it Arabic? Or Turkish? Victor couldn't tell.

"Hey, Sylo, what are you doing on the phone? I thought I said to cancel your host's meetings for the week. You should be outside having a good time in your new body" Victor said.

Alexander muttered something into the phone and then muted it. “This host is much more important than you think, Master. He can't just disappear for a week. People will start looking for him" he growled, shooting a stern look in Victor's direction. Victor couldn't help but roll his eyes. Sylo was the most stubborn of the five bugs.

"Let them. It's not like they will suspect he's just a brainless empty husk for an alien bug now. You should be relaxing, not working"

Alexander suddenly tore his shirt off and glared at Victor with a menacing expression, making it clear that he was not amused.

Victor's heart raced as he felt a surge of adrenaline course through his veins. He knew Sylo was just playing pretend with his host's dominant personality, but still, seeing such a big muscular man giving him such a look would still make him sweat. Victor was still very much human.

"Why don't you use your slutty mouth to worship my muscles instead, while I'm doing real man stuff?" Alexander growled.

Victor's cheeks flushed red, but he couldn't help the surge of desire that coursed through his body. He looked at Alexander's muscles, meeting his intense gaze, and felt a strange sense of submission wash over him. Without hesitation, he sat onto Alexander's thighs and started to kiss and lick his chest, moving lower towards his hard stomach.

As he licked at the six-pack, Alexander went back to talking on the phone in a foreign language.

"Flex, please" Victor asked, and Alexander obeyed, flexing his right arm so Victor could grope and lick at the hard muscles, especially the biceps.

Victor then kneeled between Alexander's legs and unzipped his pants, fishing out the hard and thick 8 Inches member. He traced the outline of the shaft with his tongue before wrapping his lips around it and taking it deep into his mouth. Alexander let out a guttural moan while still on the phone, his free hand tangling in Victor's hair as he thrusted his hips forward.

Victor reveled in the power he felt in the moment, the power of sucking off a straight rich CEO that in his normal self would never even acknowledge his existence. He worked his mouth expertly, sucking and licking until he felt Alexander's climax approach, his body tensing and shuddering beneath Victor's expert mouth.

Finally, Alexander cried out in pleasure, his hips bucking wildly as he came, filling Victor's mouth with his seed. Victor swallowed every drop, relishing the taste of his friend's host on his tongue. As the intensity of the moment began to wane, he looked up at Alexander.

"You are such a good little slut," Alexander growled, his voice still heavy with arousal. He had ended the call when he started to orgasm.

Victor couldn't help but smile up at him. He had never expected to feel this way about one host, but there was something so thrilling about being called "a good little slut" by someone like Alexander.

"Now," Alexander continued, his voice taking on a commanding tone, "I want you to sit onto the bed and wait there. I have something special planned for you"

Victor was confused, but as if on cue, the door opened and Grus's middle eastern bodybuilder host stepped inside. Loking around the room Grus's host turned to Alexander. "You sent me a signal, brother?"

[rafeandonlyrafe]

mistakes and regrets

words: 1.9k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, aged up!rafe, dad!rafe and mom!reader, seperated parents/coparenting, p in v sex (but they dont finish), angsty but fluffy ending

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @slut4drudy @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs

"hey, baby girl!" rafe smiles, picking up your daughter and twirling her around. "well don't you look so cute in your new dress." he nuzzles his face against hers, pressing kisses along her cheeks.

"hey y/n." rafe greets you with a smile as well, setting your daughter down and coming to take the bags out of your hands, carrying them inside.

you take your daughters hand and walk in together, pushing down your nerves to put a smile on your face.

"thanks for letting us stay here while the apartment is getting redone." you say, watching as rafe sets your bags along the hallway.

"no problem." rafe says, clearing his throat. it's been so long since you've shared a house together. rafe usually gets your daughter on weekends, and you take care of her at your apartment during the week while he's working. 

it wasn't a one time hookup that resulted in your daughter, but it wasn't exactly a relationship either. your bodies were so compatible, and you tried to make it work when you became pregnant, but it was just too hard on both of you, so for your daughters sake, you decided to cut the toxicity and coparent with seperate places.

"come on, izzy, let's show mommy your new toy." rafe ushers your daughter up the stairs, helping her navigate her new skill. izzy just turned two, and is still getting the hang of her movements.

you follow them up the stairs, looking at the house you used to know so well. you smile when you see the inside of izzys room, it's been almost a year since you've been inside of it, and its been updated with a brand new bed, and stocked full with toys. rafe obviously spoils his daughter, but you already knew that from how much extra he gave you in child support each month, allowing you to not have to work to support her. you still choose to work at a local cafe on the weekends, mainly because your friend runs it and you like to help out. it keeps you busy as well when you're away from your daughter.

"mommy, look!" izzy holds up a brand new barbie doll, and you ooo and ahh over it as she continues to show you all the toys that she keeps at her daddys house. you sit down on the tiny toddler sized couch in her room, smiling at rafe as he crosses his arms and watches from the door, loving seeing how precious his daughter is.

once izzy is done going through everything, you head back down the stairs for dinner. you love to cook with izzy, giving her easy little tasks that she can do with your supervision. you know how important it is to start teaching her these things young, and how good it is for her development.

you move throughout the kitchen with rafe with ease, like you never had all that time spent apart. once everything is in the oven or simmering on the stovetop, you move to lift izzy into her high chair in the dining room, but rafe stops you. "i got it." he smiles gently, placing her in the seat and securing the tray.

"this is nice." you hum softly, keeping an eye on izzy out of the corner of your eye as she drinks her milk out of a sippy cup.

"it is. we should do family dinners more often." you and rafe get along decently well, but it also hurts you to be around him constantly. you feel guilty that you aren't giving izzy the life you had growing up with two steady, in love parents.

"we should." you just say in agreement, helping rafe plate the dishes before moving back to the table.

the dinner goes by well, izzy never letting an awkward silent moment happen as she chats away, even though most of it is intelligible baby babble along with her speaking with a mouth full of food.

you settle down on the couch with izzy after, cuddling her as a movie plays on the tv while rafe cleans up from dinner. you both decided a relaxing day would be best, considering you're deviating from her normal schedule by staying at rafes for the entire week while your apartments wood floors are redone. the complex offered to put you up in a hotel, but you knew izzy would be more comfortable at rafes, even if you found it awkward. you'd do anything for your daughter.

"somebody is getting tired." rafe says with a smirk as he enters the living room, seeing izzy resting against you, slowly blinking at the tv.

"daddy." izzy perks up slightly, crawling across the couch to where he sits down.

"come on, mommy." izzy becons you with her hand, wanting to cuddle with both her parents. you can't deny what your little girl wants, schooching across the couch to sit next to rafe, izzy sat half on your thigh and half on his.

you keep your back pin straight, your leg the only part of your body touching rafes, but as the movie continues, you find yourself leaning back against the couch, rafes arm coming to wrap around your shoulder.

you can tell that izzy has fallen asleep, but you let yourself lean into rafe, enjoying the comfort of his warmth as the movie draws to a close.

only when the credits finish do you move, wishing you could stay there curled up for longer, as one big unit with izzy.

"ill take her up to bed, stay here." rafe says, keeping his voice barely above a whisper. you just nod, letting rafe pick up your daughter, noting how small she is in his big arms. still your little girl, even though she's gotten so big.

rafe hesitates before he leaves the room, turning to press a kiss to your forehead before exiting. you blush hard, knowing your face must be bright red from the intimate moment.

you stay sat in your seat as you hear rafe descending the stairs and rummaging with something in the kitchen. he comes back into the living room with two glasses of wine, handing one to you.

"i bought red just for you." rafe admits, sitting down next to you, but keeping more distance than before.

"you remembered." you smile into your glass, taking a small sip of the drink.

"of course.” rafe closes his eyes briefly before refocusing on you when they open again.

“you’re different.” you say honestly. it’s been so long since you’ve spent more than a few minutes with him, and never one on one like this. 

“i’m no longer the boy who got you pregnant.” rafe says, and you understand exactly what he means. izzy changed both of your lives, made you realize that you had to grow up, for her sake and your own. “i actually-” rafe leans forward and sets his glass on the coffee table. “wanted to apologize for back then. i was young and stupid, and i hurt you and izzy. i wish i could go back and change how i acted. i was jealous and immature.”

“oh rafe.” you sigh, also setting your glass down to lean forward and wrap your arms around him. “it means so much to me to hear you say that. i’m sorry too, we both made mistakes.” rafes arms are firmly around your waist, holding you against him. you pull back, going to speak more when rafes lips press against yours. you gasp against his mouth, but he doesn’t let up, continuing to kiss you until you concede and kiss him back.

“please. just let me have you, even just for tonight.” rafe says, running his hand through your hair, his forehead pressing against yours, eyes full of emotion and pleading.

you should say no. this will only complicate things further, but you swallow your pride and nod. you want rafe too bad to miss this opportunity.

rafe stands slowly, hands carefully helping you up like he’s worried if he moves too quickly you’ll back out. 

he leads you up the stairs, and you follow slowly a step behind, keeping your outstretched hands intertwined as he heads past izzys bedroom to his own. you glance around the room, noticing its mostly unchanged from a year ago when you packed up your things and left.

"we'll have to be quiet." you say, closing the door shut behind you. "don't want to wake izzy."

rafe nods, placing his hands on your waist as he connects your lips again, the kiss even more passionate now as he leads you further into the room, towards the bed.

you kiss in between getting undressed, pulling clothes off before reconnecting your lips until you’re both naked. rafe lays you down, draping his body over yours, his cock rubbing against your thigh making you moan, widening your legs, calling for him.

rafe presses against your entrance, pushing inside with ease, like he was meant to be there. you cry out, trying to keep quiet but struggling until rafes mouth is on yours, swallowing your sounds with a kiss as his hips press against yours, cock buried deep in your heat.

“rafe, please.” you claw your fingers down his back, not caring if you scratch him, needing him to move. he grants your command, moving his hips back and then in in a swinging motion, his eyes glossed over with lust.

it reminds you of the night you conceived izzy, it was just like this, rafe moaning on top of you, both trying to keep quiet as ward was sleeping in the room next door. at the flashback, you suddenly push rafe off of you, tears welling up in your eyes.

“baby?” rafe questions, his hands reaching out but not touching, like he’s scared you’ll react even worse.

“what are we doing?” you question, your voice breaking as you sob, feeling regretful and vulnerable as you tug on rafes sheet to wrap it around your naked body.

rafe opens his mouth like hes going to speak, but no words come out.

“what are we doing?” you repeat. “we aren’t kids anymore, we have a daughter, we can’t just hook up. do you know how confusing this all is for her? we are being so dumb and selfish.”

“it’s not selfish to want to give izzy happy parents who are together.” rafe pushes back.

“together? you said just for tonight.” you scrunch your brows, confused.

“i would take tonight if that’s all you were willing to offer me. i was hoping with you staying here, things would… change. and get better.” rafe sighs, reaching out to take your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.

“so you actually want to try again?” you question, thinking that was out of the question after what happened a year ago.

“anything for you. anything for izzy. i know it’ll be hard, but why don’t we try just for this week? and then see where it takes us from then on?” 

you nod, leaning forward to press your cheek into rafes chest, letting his strong, comforting arms wrap you into a hug, easing you back onto the bed.

“let’s just sleep.” he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “and see how we feel in the morning, waking up next to each other.”

“mmm.” you hum in agreement. 

“but-” rafe pauses “we do need to put our clothes back on so izzy doesn’t walk in on us naked.”

you burst out laughing, eyebrows shooting up when rafe presses his lips against yours, shushing you as to not wake up izzy while also unable being able to hold back a laugh of his own.

[astercontrol]

If KOSA passes

Or if any other form of censorship (there are many in the works!) ever succeeds at stepping in to impede our ability to communicate online:

We have to make plans.

Now, I dunno who'll even see this post. The few followers I have are TRON fans (who despite the fantasy we live in, tend to have realistically dismal views IRL about Disney and the various corporate uses of software).

And this fandom, on average, is pretty tech-savvy. It's where I've encountered the most people under 20 years old who actually know how to use a desktop or laptop computer.

So, if there's any hope for what I'm thinking about, this is prolly a good place to start with it.

(As with all my posts, I encourage reblogging and containment-breaching.)

(Gifs are clips from TRON 1982, mainly the "deleted love scene," from the DVD extras.)

Anyway.

Current society has moved online communication much too far onto major social media sites for my comfort. Whoever you communicate with over the internet, chances are you do it through a service owned by a big company: Tumblr, Twitter, Discord, Telegram, Facebook, whatever. Even TikTok (shudder).

These sites, despite their many flaws, can provide experiences that are valuable and hard to get otherwise. And once all your friends are on one site, you can't just leave and stay in touch with them all, not unless they all go the same place. It's easy to see why it's hard to abandon any social media platform.

But a backup plan is important. Because, as we've seen over and over, social media sites can't be relied on. They change their policies suddenly, without good reason-- and are inconsistent, even discriminatory, about enforcing those policies.

If they're funded by ads, the advertisers are their main customers, and your posts are the product. Their goal is that the posts most valuable to the advertisers get seen by people the advertisers consider desirable customers.

Helping you communicate-- making your posts get seen by the people you want to communicate with-- is optional to them.

Not to mention that the whole business model of an ad-funded website is generally unsustainable. Many of these sites are operating at a loss, relying on shareholders in a fragile bubble, doomed to fail soon just from lack of real profit.

And the more restrictions --like KOSA-- that the law puts on freedom of online speech, the likelier they are to go down or just become unusable. Every rule a site is required to follow is another strain on its resources, and most of them are already failing badly at even enforcing their own self-imposed rules.

If we want any control over our continued ability to stay in touch with our online friends-- we need to have a backup plan. Maybe it'll be simple at first, a bare-bones system we cobble together-- but it's gotta be something that will work. For a while at least.

There are lots of really good posts about ways to build your own website, using a service like Neocities. I VERY MUCH recommend learning this skill-- learning to make websites of the very simplest, most stable, glitch-resistant type, made of html pages-- which you can upload to a host while you store backups on your home computer. If you value the writing and art that you put online, this is probably the safest you can keep it.

But that's for making your own creative work public.

As for communicating with others-- for example, receiving and answering other people's comments on your work-- that gets more complex. I personally haven't found it worthwhile to troubleshoot the problems that come with having a system that allows visitors to comment publicly on my website.

But what we do still have-- and likely will for a long time-- is email.

Those of us who came of age before social media's current hold... well, we might take this for granted. Email was the first form of online contact we ever encountered… and thus it can seem to us like the most ordinary, the most boring.

But in the current world, it is a rare and precious thing to find a method of communicating that doesn't require everyone in the chat to be signed on with the same corporation.

Email is, as of now, still perfectly legal-- as much as social media companies have been trying to herd the populace away from it. I'm sure there are other ways to share thoughts online that are not bound by laws. But I am not going to go into that here.

Email service is provided by law-abiding companies, which will comply with subpoenas if law enforcement thinks you are emailing about doing illegal things. So, email is not a surefire way to be safe, if laws become dystopian enough to threaten your freedom to talk about your own life and identity.

But it's safer than posting on a public social media page.

For now.

Email is beautifully decentralized. You can get an email address many different ways-- some reliant on a company like Gmail, others hosted on your own domain. And different people, with all different types of email addresses, hosted in all different ways-- can all communicate together by the same method.

Of course any of these people, individually, can lose their email address for some reason or other, and have to get a new one. But as long as they still know the email addresses of their contacts, they can reconnect and recover from that loss. The structure of a group linked by email is reliant not on a single company-- but on the group itself, the friends you can actually count on.

This is why I am trying to promote the idea of forming email lists, as a backup plan to give people a way to stay in touch as mainstream social media sites prove to be unsustainable.

I'm envisioning a simple system of sending emails to several addresses at once, and making each reply visible to everyone in the chat by using "reply all" (or, if desired, editing the To field to reply to only some).

If enough people get used to using email in this way, it could fill most of the needs met by any other group chat or forum …without depending on a centralized social media company that's taking dystopian measures to try and make the business profitable.

So here are some thoughts about how I personally imagine it could work.

(Feel free to comment and bring up any thoughts I haven't addressed, or suggestions to customize how specific groups could set it up. This is meant as more of a starting point for brainstorming than a catch-all solution.)

As I see it, here are the basics of what you and your friends would each need to start out:

An email address. Any kind, hosted anywhere. You should use a dedicated email account just for this group, one that you do NOT use for other communication. Being in this group will result in things you don't want happening to your main email address-- like getting a TON of email, one for every post and reply. Or someone could get your email address that you really don't want any contact with. Use a burner email account (one that you can easily replace) and change it if needed.

The knowledge of how to "REPLY ALL" in your email. This will be necessary in order to add a comment that everyone in the group can see.

The knowledge of how to EDIT THE "TO" FIELD in your email, and remove addresses from the list of all recipients. This will be necessary if you want to CHANGE WHICH PEOPLE in the group can see your comment.

The knowledge of how to FILTER WORDS in your email. This will be necessary if a topic comes up that you don't want to see any mentions of.

The knowledge of how to BLOCK PEOPLE in your email. This will be very important. If someone joins this email group who you do not want to interact with, it will be up to you to BLOCK them so that you do NOT see their messages. (If they are bad enough to evade the block with multiple burner accounts, that's what you have a burner account for. Change it, and share the new one only with those you trust not to give it to them.)

Every person in the group will be effectively a "moderator" of the group, able to remove people from it by cutting their email addresses out of the "To" field. Members will all have equal "moderator" privileges, each able to tailor the group to their own needs.

This means the group may naturally split, over time, into other groups, each one removing some people and adding others. Some will overlap, some won't. This is good! This is, in my opinion, what online interaction SHOULD be like! There should be MANY groups like this!

In this way, we can keep online discussion alive, no matter WHAT happens to any of the social media websites.

If the dystopia got bad enough to shut down email, we could even continue with postal mail and photocopies, like they did in the days of print-zine fanfiction.

If it looks like the dystopia is gonna come for postal mail too, we'll use the connection we have to preserve whatever contacts we can with people who live near us.

Not saying it's GONNA get that bad. But these steps of preparation are good no matter exactly what kind of bad stuff happens.

As long as some organized form of communication still exists, we'll have a place where it's at least a little safer to be your true self…

to plan events and meetups…

and maybe even activities a little too risque to make the final cut of a 1982 Disney movie.

They're trying to censor us. We want a Free System. So we're gonna fight back.

For the Users. Not the corporations.

Peace out, programs. <3

[mrsrookhunt]

hi, hi! could I ask for pt 2 of the twst "what to expect when your lab experiment drinks formula," I just thought it was rlly cute!☺ you can do any sort of characters, I don't mind!

What to Expect When your Lab Experiment Drinks Formula Pt. 2

Hihi! Actually, I wrote that scenario for all the characters in twst I'm writing for right now (I'm new to the fandom), so I've gone ahead and made this into a followup on how they're doing as parents, hope you don't mind! Thanks the ask!

Warnings: Mild Chap 7 spoiler (Lilia), Rook & Floyd want so many kids your house is going to look like the 100 baby sims challenge.

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Part one! Rook Hunt! Part Two (here), Part Three!

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Malleus Draconia

Malleus is running wild with the new heir. As much as he loves you, so much of his time is occupied by playing with his baby that you don't even see him around as often as you used to.

Your new baby is named Ormr, an ancient name directly meaning 'dragon'. Malleus pouted for a bit that it didn't start with 'Mal' but you assured him that it could be a great fresh start before the Draconia family ran out of names.

While you were still a bit disoriented by the strange circumstances, you were adjusting just fine to being a parent. Your little one kept you on your toes, breathing fire onto your homework when you weren't giving them enough attention and flying away with your food when Malleus taught them how to fly short distances.

Get out the broom. There's a dragon baby with a pb&j on the ceiling.

Malleus' love of your child surprised you a bit. Though you had known that he had technically set up the entire creation of the child, you never expected for Malleus to take so strongly to the little dragon fae.

To be fair, the entirety of Briar Valley seemed to rejoice at the news of your little one, so you supposed that your child was more important than it would be to a normal family. This was the continuation of his bloodline, without posing any risk of losing you, his favorite Child of man.

It was perfect, a blissful life together.

Malleus is constantly supportive of you and works hard to be both a father and a partner. He never fails to make your family feel loved and connected, even in trying times.

Rook Hunt

Rook's baby is... Rook's baby.

The little creature is mischievous, even for its young age.

It may not be able to crawl, but provided anything of importance is in its general vicinity, it will be swiped, hidden, or destroyed with an innocent giggle.

Rook manages the child much better than you. Although you love your child to death, they seem to have inherited Rook's predatory mind in their entirety, and it makes Rook far more equipped to handle the baby's demeanor.

When you look away, you'll most certainly be hit with the first thing in reach of your little one. You blame Rook for this, who reveled in showing them documentaries on hunting through the ages from birth.

Soon, it's more complex weapons. Sharp rocks from your trip outside to play have somehow become entrapped in a very deliberately tangled slinky and thrown at the back of your head.

You know it's all in good fun between Rook & your little one, but your baby will be as skilled a hunter as Rook someday. He was not wrong to call your child his little hunter from the moment it fell into your arms.

Rook wants a large family, so you'd better be prepared for lots of little predators running around the house. Good luck trying to keep them from attempting to murder each other.

Extra: Rook is the type to remember that recipe to a tee. If you so much as mention having another child, ten more are going to show up the next day. Honestly he's waiting for you to slip up and mention it. He's absolutely in love with your family, and would be overjoyed to expand it. Best of luck to you.

Floyd Leech

As soon as you were asleep that night, little child snug in a makeshift bassinet next to you, Floyd was already sneaking out to create more children.

You woke up to six more on the bed with you, one of which woke you up directly by biting you for attention.

Overall you've had much trouble managing all the little literal ankle biters. If it weren't for the liberal help from Jade, Grim and Ace, you would not be able to manage all seven.

However, this does not stop you from loving them entirely. The babies love you to death, and you're extremely bonded to them as well. When you and Floyd fight, there's suddenly seven growling creatures lined up behind you, at the ready to attack.

Despite being 110% like Floyd, they are very certain in their favoritism. Two of your children refuse to have him nearby at all.

He claims it breaks his heart, but you catch him praising your little ones with frozen grapes and soda to reinforce their bond with you.

Definitely not what a baby should be fed but when you said they couldn't eat seafood he switched gears to 'land food', and would take no further criticisms.

The best times are cuddle nights. Twice a week, all of you cuddle up in your Ramshackle dorm room and cozy up to a movie and snacks. This continues until well into their childhoods let's be honest. It becomes a Leech family tradition.

Sebek Zigvolt

"Human! Get it! GET IT!!!"

Your baby is very adventurous.... or something close to it.

Always tumbling off furniture and rolling off changing tables, or falling down for some reason or other.

You can have ten sets of eyes on this child and it does not matter, this baby will stubbornly look into your eyes and throw itself off the couch.

There's so much chaos, constantly, when it comes to little baby Zigvolt.

Sebek's excellent training is the only reason that your child has not been hospitalized for concussions.

But his excellent training has not saved him from the baby's love of biting their father. So, so many times. Every time Sebek catches it.

Chomp.

Every time he bathes it.

Chomp.

Everytime he changes a diaper.

Chomp.

Sebek is covered in tiny little baby bites.

But oh, how your baby adores you. In between bouts of defiance and finger-snacking moods, your baby loves to lie in your arms and cuddle.

It's arguably the most comfortable time you get with Sebek and your baby.

And I do mean arguably, because Sebek swears up and down that the baby is happiest in the presence of Malleus, and it's a hill he's willing to die on. But you know he really just wants an excuse to show off your baby to Silver.

Silver is not impressed.

Your baby is the very definition of a headache to Sebek. They cry everytime they see Malleus, they hate any sort of regimen, they love to play and play and... play more. All day long. No work or training to be seen here, baby Zigvolt will NOT be having it unless you want 4 hours of ear-splitting tantrums. And the baby still won't do the work when they're done.

But still, you see Sebek in every aspect of your baby. The strength, the way your child loves you unconditionally, but treats everyone else cautiously, and overall, the refusal to do anything that doesn't align with their little baby whims.

You've lovingly termed your baby 'Stubborn Ziggy the Second'. Sebek is not a fan, but he allowed it after you let go of 'Swamp dog & Swamp puppy'.

Lilia Vanrouge

screaming.

And more screaming.

It is not the baby. It is you trying to find the baby.

"OH MY GOD I LOST IT, I LOST OUR BABY OH MY GOD---"

And then--

"Weh!" The baby pops its head out of a cabinet with its hands up the way Lilia does to scare them.

The baby giggles and coos at its own joke, making grabby hands while it waits for you to come get it.

You're just dumbfounded. You're going to have to scold Lilia, because now your little one is picking up on yet another one of his pranks.

Your baby is a lot like you, with one exception-- your baby is so playful and teasing that it honestly gives The Great Lilia Himself a run for his money.

Last week, you were frantically searching for an expensive piece of jewelry, when it dropped down on your head from the spot where little baby Vanrouge was apparently levitating it from.

Oh yes, your child's magic is coming in strong. Though Lilia's is fading, you tease that perhaps the little one is just absorbing it from him outright, showing him videos of your child's most recent magical displays of strength.

Your family bonds through jokes and playful faces, entirely. Lilia is probably a candidate for The Worst Parent on Earth, so you do most of the housework. It's not like Lilia's never offered, it's that you promised Silver not to let Lilia traumatize his little sibling. All of your best moments are spent by making space in your schedule for your family time.

Lil Vanrouge needs all your love, and Lilia Vanrouge does too. It's a fine balance between upsetting either of them, though dealing with hours of screaming and petty annoyance is not a hard decision.

Just make sure both are getting enough cuddles, and maybe don't judge growing-up lil Vanrouge when they decide they love gaming...

Azul Ashengrotto

Don't forget about Azul, please.

Your baby has the chubbiest cheeks and the cutest smile, but is it as cute as Azul? Cuter, probably. But don't tell him that.

Azul loves your child with all his heart, but he's a bit miffed that it requires so much of your love and attention.

You and baby Ashengrotto are very bonded, so it's rare to see you apart for a moment. And in that moment... Azul is putting on Full-Drama Mode. Cuddles, cuddles. More cuddles. Give him a kiss. Could you please take a bath with him? He's just so tired, he doesn't think he can take a bath by himself. Would you mind giving him a massage? You're too tired? That's ok, you scratch his back and he'll scratch yours. He's not too tired after all. He'll give you a massage.

Your little one is so much like their father, wanting all the attention and love in the world, but getting the priority treatment. Little baby Ashengrotto is Octavinelle's favorite thing ever. Everyone just wants to love on them and see their cuteness.

Azul was going to charge people to see them until you put your foot down and said no.

Azul knows how precious his child is. Secretly, he does want another. Two, just for a healthy statistical number's sake. But he won't tell you that. He's trying to come to terms with the shift in attention with one tiny octomer right now, maybe waiting a couple of years would be more optimal. He will never admit that he's jealous of your child, but claims that he's 'working through his issues when you bring it up.

But Azul will always prioritize his baby as well, even if unintentionally. In the end, the wellbeing of his family comes first and foremost.

And maybe showing off mini-mer to the Mostro lounge staff.