#Key-value pairs | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

riboism · 7 months ago

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me and my husband

》 pairing: emperor! k.hj x (f) empress! reader

》 wc: 5k

》 plot: In a cold and ruthless empire, the neglected Empress is trapped in a loveless marriage to a possessive and tyrannical Emperor. When he encourages her to take a lover to occupy her loneliness, she begins a forbidden affair with a kind-hearted gardener, discovering a tenderness she’s never known. But when the Emperor learns of her growing feelings for the gardener, he becomes consumed with jealousy, rage, and betrayal, prompting him to realize his conflicted feelings and take matters into his own hands.

》 content: royalty au, possessive! hongjoong, lots of plot before smut, affair, low key angry sex, cunnilingus, backshots, breeding, creampie, verrryyyy toxic ;)

》 a/n: this is heavily inspired by the Hulu drama, ‘The Great’, and that goddamn hongjoong mv…

🎧 me and my husband by mitski, all mine by brent faiyaz, heartless by the weekend, closer by nine inch nails, why do you love by hongjoong

You paced back and forth in your large bedroom, the quiet ticking from the grand clock slowly maddening you until your patience evaporated. Mingi is exactly eight minutes late. You wouldn’t have noticed his short delay if it was any other night, but tonight you were particularly desperate. It was only a couple of days before you’d start bleeding again, and your body craved to be taken care of. The frustration made you so hot and flushed to the point that you felt it unnecessary to apply any color to your cheeks.

Exasperated, you fell back into the softness of your bed. Despite his occasional lateness, you had to admit—having a lover had its perks. At first, the idea felt like a betrayal of everything you stood for, a compromise of your values. But Mingi had been nothing short of a blessing. The loneliness of the palace had once felt suffocating, but his presence brought a much-needed light. He listened when no one else would, his warm gaze making you feel seen in a way the Emperor never had. And when words failed, he used his skilled fingers to help ease away your tensions.

It was the Emperor’s idea for you to take a lover. Yes, you and your husband had sort of a dysfunctional marriage. When you first learned that the young Emperor was going to ask for your hand, you were quickly consumed with giddy daydreams of romance and devotion, the kinds you read about in books when you were just a little girl. You were ecstatic to have his companionship until reality struck you hard and fast. The hastily arranged wedding had barely concluded when you finally met him—a man who was far from the Prince Charming you had imagined. The dreams of a happily-ever-after faded quickly, replaced by the cold, bitter truth. You were merely another pawn in his political game, and he was far too absorbed in his own indulgences to care about yours.

Emperor Kim Hongjoong was a tyrant draped in silk and gold, a man whose cruelty knew no bounds. He ruled with a reckless disregard for his people. While his subjects froze to death in yet another senseless war, he surrounded himself with decadence—hosting opulent feasts that spilled into debauchery and indulging in nights of ecstasy with his concubines. The Court tread lightly around him, knowing full well he was a volatile storm, ready to unleash fury over the slightest inconvenience. Beheadings became as common as whispers in the palace halls, his wrath fueled by whims and dulled by the haze of opium that clouded his mind. Rational decisions—military or otherwise—were a rarity, yet the Court still pushed him toward one expectation: securing heirs to continue his blood-soaked legacy.

You quickly came to understand your place within the palace walls. Though you bore the title of Empress, in his eyes, you were nothing more than a vessel for producing heirs to secure the bloodline and strengthen the Empire.

Intimacy with the Emperor felt like a cold and mechanical ritual devoid of any tenderness or affection. During your ovulation, he would visit your chambers to complete the act, barely sparing you a glance as he did. There was no care or affection—just the unceremonious deposit of his seed before he rose and left without a word. More often than not, you were left lying on your back, alone in the dark, listening to his footsteps echo down the hall as he sought solace in the arms of his concubines. Whatever happened between you two during those nights was never meant to bring any joy or passion; it was simply a transaction, a duty to the Empire.

What stung most was how he never saw you as he did those other women. To them, he gave smiles, laughter, and sometimes even whispers of affection—crumbs of humanity that you yearned for but never received. And yet, despite his cold indifference, you couldn’t help but crave his attention. You told yourself that if you waited, and if you worked hard enough, he might one day change. Maybe, just maybe, he would soften, hold you, and love you the way you had once dreamed.

But with each passing day, the hope grew dimmer. He only seemed to drift further away, leaving you to grapple with the emptiness he left behind.

“I don’t have time,” the Emperor said curtly, his tone leaving no room for argument. He shoved the last of his rice into his mouth and rose swiftly from the table. He always ate with such haste in the mornings, as though the very act of sitting with you was a burden he couldn’t wait to escape.

“All I’m asking for is a short walk in the garden. Please, I’m so lonely here. Can’t you spare even a moment for your wife?” you pleaded, your voice trembling with the weight of your desperation.

He adjusted his trousers with a practiced indifference, striding toward the tall, imposing doors without so much as a glance in your direction. Just as he reached them, he let out a dismissive scoff.

“If you’re so bored, find yourself a lover.”

The Emperor had said many cruel things to you before, but this? To suggest such a thing as an affair to his wife? It was beyond comprehension. That very day, you found yourself pacing the palace garden, his vile words echoing endlessly in your mind.

Was he truly that done with you? you wondered bitterly. Did he care so little for you that the thought of you lying with another man didn’t stir even the faintest flicker of jealousy? No, he had encouraged it. Not out of love, but because your presence was a little more than an inconvenience to him. The realization gnawed at you. He treated you with less regard than his concubines, women he showered with affection, attention, and gifts—things you had only ever dared to dream of.

Your sadness was written across your face, too raw to hide, even when the tall, unassuming gardener approached with cautious concern. His voice was soft as he asked if you were alright, his eyes kind in a way you hadn’t experienced in ages.

And it was in that moment, standing before Mingi, that you decided. If the Emperor’s cruelty extended so far as to push you into the arms of another, then so be it. You would take his advice.

—

A loud thud at the door jolted you upright. That must be Mingi, you thought, heart racing as you leapt out of bed. Hastily, you grabbed the bottle of floral perfume on your nightstand, spritzing a delicate mist onto your neck. You smoothed your lacy nightgown and approached the door on light feet, careful to keep your movements discreet—though you knew the palace walls were full of watchful eyes, and rumors of your midnight visitor were no secret.

But the giddy flutter of butterflies in your stomach twisted into a cold, heavy weight the moment you opened the door.

Standing there, framed by the dim hallway light, was not Mingi.

“Emperor,” you murmured, quickly bowing to mask your shock.

Hongjoong’s gaze slid over you like a blade, lingering far too long on the delicate lace of your nightgown. His lips quirked upward in a faint smirk, amusement glinting in his dark eyes. You flushed under his scrutiny, the sheer fabric suddenly feeling like a cruel betrayal.

"All dolled up," he remarked, voice low and taunting. "Quite the effort for someone who isn't me."

You widened the door hesitantly, feeling cornered, as though you had no choice but to let him in. The Emperor stepped inside with an air of entitlement, his presence suffocating in the small space. As he moved further into the room, you instinctively leaned out into the hallway, glancing left and right, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mingi—wanting to warn him somehow.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about the gardener,” Hongjoong said casually as if reading your thoughts. “I sent him away.”

You froze mid-step, the blood draining from your face. “S-sent him away?” you stammered, dread pooling in your chest.

Hongjoong threw his head back and laughed, a sharp, grating sound that only deepened your unease. “Relax,” he said, waving his hands in mock reassurance. “I didn’t kill him. Tempting, sure, but no. I figured that might upset you.” His words were flippant, but there was a gleam in his eyes that made your stomach twist. The reassurance didn’t land—it only left you more anxious.

Without invitation, Hongjoong strolled further into your chambers and collapsed onto your bed with an exaggerated sigh, as though he owned every inch of the space—and, of course, he did. His dark eyes roamed over you unabashedly, lingering on your bare, glistening legs and then rising to your barely covered chest.

“You look nice,” he said, his voice thick with amusement. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in that nightgown before. Did I buy that?”

You didn’t respond, refusing to acknowledge his comments. Your thoughts were racing, consumed with worry for Mingi. Where was he? Was he safe? What did Hongjoong do to him?

The Emperor sat up, his expression shifting into something more serious. “I didn’t kill your boy toy,” he said bluntly. “I’m simply relocating him. He no longer works at the palace.” He patted the mattress beside him. “Now, sit down.”

Your heart plummeted to your stomach. The room felt colder, heavier. You wanted to scream, to hurl every ornate wedding gift he had ever given you in his face, to demand answers at the top of your lungs. But you swallowed it all—the anger, the fear—and silently moved to sit beside him. It had been so long since you were this close to him, and you needed a moment to size him up before doing anything rash.

“Why did you send him away?” you asked quietly, the tremor in your voice betraying your attempt at calm.

“Because I decided I don’t want to share pussy with a lowborn. You couldn’t have at least gone for the Chancellor? He’s always ogling at your breasts. Doesn’t carry much in length, but at least he has status.” He answered offhandedly.

“What?” You flustered.

Hongjoong threw his head back in exasperation before turning sharply toward you, his expression a mixture of annoyance and condescension. “Everyone in the Palace knows about you two,” he began, his tone dripping with disdain. “The Court has been whispering that your little gardener was falling in love and planning to run away with you. He made a mockery of me. Me. So yes, I had to get rid of him. You should be grateful I didn’t have him beheaded. That imbecile.”

His words left you reeling. Was he telling the truth, or weaving lies to justify his cruelty? It didn’t make sense. He had ignored you for so long, humiliated you at every turn, yet now he took offense when you sought solace elsewhere? And with his permission, no less?

“I don’t understand,” you said, your voice trembling with both anger and confusion. “You told me I could have a lover.”

Hongjoong chuckled darkly, the sound grating against your nerves. “I meant a fuck buddy,” he corrected, his smirk widening. “Not a boyfriend. But anyway, I take it back. You can’t have either.”

Hot anger coursed through your veins, lighting every nerve on fire. How dare he? Who was he to take the one shred of happiness you had and discard it on a whim? You rose to your feet, fists clenched, jaw tight. “Bring him back. Now,” you demanded, your voice firm despite the trembling in your chest.

His smirk deepened, his gaze alight with a maddening amusement. He leaned back leisurely, resting his weight on one arm as if your anger were nothing more than entertainment to him. “No,” he said flatly, his arrogance palpable.

The sheer audacity made your head spin. You had always tempered your tone around him, swallowed your words out of respect—or fear—but this was too much. “If you don’t bring him back to me,” you said, your voice rising, “I will leave. And I will never come back.”

Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed, though his smirk remained intact. “If you leave,” he said with maddening calm, “I’ll send my men to every corner of this Earth to find you and bring you back to me.”

“Then I’ll jump to my death!” you spat, your voice trembling with both fury and desperation.

He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head mockingly. “Do you need my assistance opening the window? They’re awfully heavy,” he said, his tone laced with derision.

It hit you then—the futility of it all. There was no winning with him. Every word he uttered, every action he took, was final. Your defiance crumbled as hopelessness set in. Your knees buckled, and you sank to the floor, staring blankly at the carpet.

My Mingi, you thought, your heart aching in the hollow silence that followed. If he had truly loved you, if he had asked you sooner, you wouldn’t have hesitated to run away with him. But now…

A sudden touch startled you. Hongjoong’s thumb brushed away a stray tear from your cheek before gently gripping your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. He studied your face with an almost detached curiosity, sighing as if your sorrow was an inconvenience.

“Oh, cheer up, dear,” he said, his tone mockingly light. “You don’t need that filthy cock to sit on. You have me.”

The sheer calmness in his voice, the audacious cheerfulness of his words, was infuriating. It gnawed at you, his willful ignorance of your pain more provoking than all his cruelty combined.

You pushed his hand away. “At least that filthy cock could make me cum.”

You braced yourself for the sting of his hand against your cheek, but it never came. Instead, the Emperor’s lips curled into an amused smirk, as though your defiance was nothing more than a child’s tantrum to him. “Well, If you’d dropped that attitude and let me into your chambers from time to time,” he said with a gleam in his eye, “you might have seen my full potential.”

His words dripped with arrogance, and your stomach churned in disgust. The memories of the handful of nights you had spent with him were distant and cold, fleeting instances of duty you had long since abandoned. After meeting Mingi, you had shut your doors to the Emperor completely, forsaking the obligations of producing an heir as you allowed yourself to be swept away in the warmth of another’s embrace.

“Just get out,” you snapped, your voice brittle with anger and exhaustion.

Hongjoong tilted his head, studying you as though you were a puzzle he was just now beginning to solve. He hadn’t expected this level of fury—at least, not from you. A flicker of realization crossed his face.

“Oh,” he said, a note of amusement creeping into his tone. “Don’t tell me you loved him.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The truth sat heavy in your chest, threatening to burst free. It wasn’t just lust that had drawn you to Mingi; it was the way he saw you, the way he listened, the way he made you feel alive. You cared for him deeply, even when it terrified you, even when the impossibility of your circumstances loomed over you like a storm. There were nights when you dreamed of a life with him, though, they were only dreams, you had to remind yourself.

Hongjoong sighed, a long, dramatic exhale as he leaned forward, his movements slow and deliberate. His lips brushed the shell of your ear, his voice low and venomous. “Oh, you don’t get it, do you, honey?” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “You can’t be with anyone else. You belong to me. Your mind, your voice, your lips, your breasts, your legs...”

His fingers brushed against the softness of your thigh, a teasing touch that made your skin crawl. His hand lingered there for a moment, as though threatening to move closer, before retreating entirely. “...The very essence of you is mine,” he said, his tone as cold as it was possessive. “And the next time you foolishly find another hard cock to bounce on, remember this: I graciously spared your beloved lowborn this time. I let him walk out of here with all his limbs intact. But next time?” His voice darkened, a shadow falling over his words. “I won’t be so kind.”

The silence that followed was deafening, his threat hanging heavy in the air.

Without another word, the Emperor rose to his feet, smoothing out his clothes with maddening calm. He strode to the door with the same regal air he always carried, pausing only to glance back at you with a mocking bow. “Goodnight, my dear,” he said lightly, as though he hadn’t just shattered your world.

Then he was gone, leaving you trembling on the floor, a hollow shell of anger, fear, and heartbreak.

—

It had been months since your last encounter with the Emperor. Tonight, he was returning from a diplomatic trip overseas. All morning, Courtesans and nursemaids visited to remind you of your wifely duties. They whispered about your dwindling fertility window, urging you to try for a child before it was too late.

You prayed he’d be too exhausted from his journey to come to your chambers. But you knew better. Time away from the Palace always left him restless.

You hadn’t forgiven him for sending Mingi away. Of course, he hadn’t apologized—he never did. Hongjoong likely believed that with time and distance, you’d forget. That you’d fall back into your role, returning to him as if nothing had happened. But the lack of replies from the letters he’d sent you during his absence told him otherwise.

Resigned to your fate, you lay on the grand bed in your best nightgown, the silk clinging to your skin. Waiting. At least it would be quick. The Emperor never lasted long anyway.

The heavy doors swung open, and Hongjoong entered, still wearing his elaborate robe. You didn’t look at him, your gaze fixed on the ceiling as he began to undress. You braced yourself, mentally preparing for yet another empty, soulless night.

Hongjoong broke the silence. “I take it you’re still angry I took your toy away?”

The arrogance in his voice made your skin crawl. You hated how he spoke of Mingi, reducing him to an object. A plaything. As if you hadn’t cared for him deeply. As if Hongjoong’s own heart wasn’t capable of understanding such feelings.

“Are you going to talk at all tonight?”

You stayed calm, swallowing the retort burning in your throat. “I’m not here to talk, remember? We have a duty to fulfill.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, you make it sound so dull. Like we’re here to do paperwork or something.”

You didn’t answer. He busied himself removing his rings, laying them on the table beside you. His gaze landed on a pile of familiar envelopes, all sealed, untouched, and forgotten.

“You didn’t even bother opening these?” he asked, his voice tighter than before.

You sighed, unmoved. “Were they urgent?”

Hongjoong clenched his jaw, a flicker of something vulnerable crossing his face. “No,” he admitted, quieter now, “but…”

He trailed off, his confidence suddenly faltering. You had no idea how much those letters meant to him. Each word, each line, was an attempt to ease the guilt that haunted him during his travels. He had replayed the memory of your tears over and over, trying to drown his regret in ink and sentiment. Yet now, staring at the unopened letters, he realized it had all been for nothing.

“You know, you hurt me too,” he blurted.

That caught your attention. You sat up, furrowing your brows. “Me?” you echoed, incredulous. “How? By doing the very thing you told me to do?”

“Well, I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

Your laugh was sharp and bitter. “Why? Because only you get to sleep with other people?”

Hongjoong scoffed, brushing off your words with a wave of his hand. “What I do is different from what you did.”

“Different?” you snapped. “How? How is it any different?”

He stopped pacing, turning to face you fully. His voice dropped, quieter but seething with rage. “Because I don’t fall in love with them!”

The room fell silent, his words ringing in your ears.

Your mind raced, trying to make sense of it all. Was he more hurt over the possibility that you had feelings for Mingi than the fact that you’d shared nights with him? The absurdity of it made your head spin.

But then he said something that chilled you to the core.

“Seeing you cry over that bastard…” He paused, his voice tight with unspoken pain. “It enraged me. I wondered—would you ever cry for me like that?”

His admission hung heavy in the air. For the first time, you saw something raw in his eyes.

“You must be drunk,” you said quietly, hoping to diffuse the tension. “Come, lay down—”

“I’m as clear-headed as I’ve ever been,” he interrupted, his tone sharp but slightly slurred, betraying the truth. You noticed his steps wavered as he began pacing the room again, the hem of his robe brushing unevenly against the floor.

His words came faster now, laced with frustration and desperation, his worries of masking his inebriation quickly dissolving. “When you married me, you promised me your loyalty. It didn’t matter who you spent your nights with, as long as you returned to me. But instead, you gave him your heart.”

You stared at him, stunned. His jealousy, his possessiveness—it was suffocating. Yet there was something almost pitiable in the way he looked at you, as if your betrayal had cracked something deep within him.

He stopped pacing, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “You belong to me,” he said through his wine-stained lips, his voice low and firm. “Your mind. Your body. Your soul. Your loyalty. Your love. All of it. And I’ll be damned if I ever let another man take what’s mine.”

Before you could even digest all of what he said, Hongjoong climbed up on the bed, nestling himself between your legs. Your breath hitched upon feeling the softness of his lips trace over your inner thigh, planting slow and messy kisses all over your soft skin.

“W-what are you doing?” You asked flabbergasted, not used to seeing him in this position.

His arms wrapped from under your legs, locking you in place. “Showing you my full potential.”

—

Your body tensed with each flick of his tongue. You held back your moans, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, but your sweat coated breasts and your shaky, quiet breaths betrayed you. He held onto your thighs as he tasted you, gliding his tongue in tortuously long and slow strokes.

When you looked down, you were in awe at his focus, his brows furrowed in concentration, and saliva running down his chin as he savored you like a long-awaited meal. You felt trapped under him. Each time you got closer, he could sense it in the way your body braced itself, and he’d slow down again, ghosting his tongue over your parted folds, making you mentally curse him for stealing yet another rush of relief from you.

You had reached your breaking point, and although you remained utterly mute, Hongjoong understood your frustration. Like an answered prayer, his tongue swirled briefly around your throbbing nub, before finally wrapping his wine-stained lips over your aching bud.

As he suckled at your clit, you had no choice but to gasp out loud, your dry voice cracking as he consumed you. He purred into your cunt, smug with himself for finally breaking you. His craving for you grew even stronger, and he pulled you closer to him, his hips now rutting against the mattress.

“You taste exquisite, Empress,” he breathed into your cunt, which didn’t fail to send goosebumps all over your exposed flesh, “Need to taste your cum next.”

What felt like hours of edging had finally caught up with you, and your breathing started to get shaky again. Your hands slipped into his dark strands, holding onto them tightly as your hips jerked up, the fire in your abdomen finally snapping as you cried out, your milky white essence dripping onto Hongjoong’s tongue just as he desired.

You collapsed back into the mattress, your vision blurring as he continued lapping at your sensitive cunt. He drank up every drop from your puffy, tender lips, his hand resting at your stomach to help bring you down from your high. You melted into the mattress as his lips shifted from your dripping cunt to your inner thigh, kissing and biting at your soft skin while he waited for you to steady your breathing.

You looked down and met his deep, velvety gaze, his glassy eyes and slick-coated lips hitching your breath. In this moment, you took each other in. His once neatly top-knotted hair now loosely hung over his forehead, all roughed up from when you tugged and pulled at it earlier. You were disheveled yourself, your pretty lilac nightdress now sweat-drenched, the loose strands of your hair stuck to your rosy-red cheeks. He watched silently as your breasts which were barely covered by the hem of your dress, most likely hiked up from your convulsions, heaved up and down.

You were a vision unlike anything he’d ever encountered. He had just returned from a journey that took him across vast snowy peaks and through valleys kissed by the first blush of cherry blossoms. Yet, the sight of you lying here, draped in soft shadows and the moonlight shining in from the window, surpassed the beauty of every natural wonder he’d seen. You were alluring—a temptation so profound it made the grandeur of the world seem pale in comparison.

"So foolish," he murmured, his voice low and thick as he hovered over you now, the heat of his breath brushing against your skin. His face lingered just a breath away, his eyes drinking you in. What he wanted to say—how foolish he’d been to neglect you, to waste time when he should have been losing himself in you—caught in his throat, heavy and unsaid.

Instead, he let his actions speak. His head dipped slowly and his lips found yours, claiming them with a hunger that had been simmering for far too long. You met him with equal fervor, surrendering completely to the kiss and tasting your sweetness on his lips, pulling him closer, tighter, as though you could make up for all the lost time in that single, stolen moment.

“Get on your knees,” He instructed after pulling away from the kiss, a tinge of impatience and restlessness painted in his voice. You obeyed his order, pivoting yourself from your back to your hands and knees.

His hands gripped your hips eagerly, securing you in place as he lined himself up with you, giving his throbbing shaft a few pumps before sliding into your wet walls. You inhaled sharply as he entered you, his hard cock stuffing you so deliciously that you were forced to make a strangled moan, grasping at the silky sheets from under you to brace yourself.

You had never been in this position with him before. It was always missionary as it was the best option for ensuring a successful pregnancy, but from this angle, his cock hit you so deep, his balls swinging and smacking into your aching clit as he thrust into you harshly.

Your loud and lewd screams left Hongjoong teeming with ecstasy. He smirked as he watched you from behind, her royal highness, who was always so primmed and polished, so graceful in the way she walked and spoke, now babbling sinful moans, her makeup running, her hair tousled, covering him with her sticky juices as she cried and begged him to go faster, harder. He felt honored to see you like this.

The wine made Hongjoong fatigued, and he slowed down his pace, which was a little too slow for your liking. Your brain had already turned to mush, and your hips started to have a mind of its own, forcing you to fuck yourself on his cock to reach your high faster. Hongjoong cooed as he watched you, his cock throbbing at the sight of you taking matters into your own hands.

“You forget yourself, Empress,” He teased, placing a hand on your mid-back. He caressed your skin, watching your stretched-out pussy take him whole.

“Just shut up and cum inside me already,” You huffed, your composure crumbling, giving way to raw frustration.

A spark ignited in his eyes, a glimmer of something untamed and primal seeping through. His weariness evaporated and a renewed vitality coursed through him. He lifted you and pulled you into his chest, his hand sliding around your neck, fingers tracing your pulse before tightening just enough to make your breath hitch.

“Want my cum?” He rasped into your ear, lips smashed against your hot skin, his hips never letting go of that rough pace, “you want it?”

“Yes, p-please!” You choked, your salty tears falling onto your reddened lips, “Want it all!”

His grasp tightened around your neck, fucking into you so raggedly now that there was a moment he thought he could break you. “Gonna take it all?” He growled, “All of me in that little pussy? Who’s fucking pussy is this?”

Your head swam, a dizzying mix of exhilaration and the sharp, intoxicating absence of air. The rush of excitement left you lightheaded and entirely consumed by the moment.

“Yours!” You cried out, “It’s all yours!”

With a satisfied smirk, he watched you dissolve in pleasure, finally letting go of your throat as he shot his load into you, a mixture of your wetness and his creamy white dripping out of your cunt. You felt all your strength leave you as you came down, letting yourself be held up by Hongjoong, your head nestled between his chin and shoulder.

“That’s right baby,” he pressed a few gentle kisses on your sweaty temple as he pumped his cum back into you, pushing deeper and deeper to make sure you don’t waste a single drop of him, “Your mine, all mine…”

a/n: feedback is appreciated

#hoongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut #kim hongjoong smut #kim hongjoong x reader #ateez smut #hongjoong hard thoughts #hongjoong hard hours

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doujindungeon · 16 days ago

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summary: Your housewarming party with practically half the season’s lineup gets downright scorching. rating: nc-17 pairing: f!reader/12 (twelve) f1 drivers [daniel r, lando n, pierre g, lance s, carlos s, alex a, george r, esteban o, charles l, max v, fernando a, lewis h content warnings: gangbang, blowjobs, double penetration (vaginal and anal), use of aphrodisiacs if you really squint word count: 3.0k

Between the Monte Carlo summer air or this particular glass of Enchanté wine, you weren’t sure what had your body sweltering with heat.

As you had fully planned for today to host your special housewarming party, you didn’t anticipate feeling this flushed and hot of all times, of all days.

Especially when you had welcomed a majority of F1’s current drivers over to your far from humble abode–a luxurious penthouse right along the coast of Monte Carlo.

The occasion was simple but the reason was grand: in light of your ascent to team principal for Honda’s formal entry as a contender next season, you had finally taken the plunge to acquire a new home, basking in the abundant opulence that Monaco had to offer as you became neighbors with a majority of the paddock.

While you had full intention of inviting as many people out throughout your planned week of celebrations–whether engineers and other staff from your team, other key executives and leaders from the likes of Honda and the GPDA, and more–you were particularly selective on your guests for today’s housewarming party: excluding the rookies and then some, about most of the drivers for this year’s season were in attendance, including the very man who cheerfully poured and served your glass of Enchanté:

Your first seat, Daniel Ricciardo himself.

With Honda’s highly anticipated entry and with all eyes on you for being the only current female team principal, you knew you needed to make some bold and effective plays. While you were looking to utilize the promising potential within Leone Sasselli–a young, bright-eyed Swiss newcomer who excelled with top marks at Honda’s driving academy–, bringing back one of the most desired veteran drivers in the sport was among your top priority.

Though there was certainly value in the headlines that his comeback would create, you saw this ravening hunger to take to the wheel once again in his eyes when you initially met with him to discuss his desire to join the team.

And with subsequent negotiations going along smoothly without issue, you simply never caught on to the fact that the look of burning, longing desire in his gaze wasn’t reserved to only making his comeback.

From admiring the way your legs crossed as you sat across from him for his initial recruitment, how gorgeous you looked regardless of whether it was a formal press conference or an afterparty at the club, to just loving how your lips said his name while making him feel so wanted and needed back in the sport, Daniel longed and thirsted for you like nothing else.

Perhaps it was fitting that your current predicament started after drinking from the glass of wine that he handed you.

Dinner had long since been served and enjoyed, refreshments–courtesy of Daniel–free for anyone to take while basking in the elegant decor and luxurious amenities of your penthouse suite.

Aside from some help here and there by your first seat, you were playing solo as host for tonight, your body adorned in a breezy strapless summer gown as you mingled among your handsome guests. Eagerly listening in on Lewis’s and Carlos’s recent brush with Hollywood at the likes of The Met Gala and Cannes Film Festival, comparing the conversations between the chatty chaos of Alex, George and Lando to the tranquil talks of Max and Charles, taking in the tales of starring in a Netflix movie with Esteban and filming for commercials for Givenchy with Pierre, to beckoning over Lance and Fernando out forth from whichever wall they had rooted themselves against.

As for Daniel, he was making sure there was a drink in hand for everyone.

Alcohol flowed–for Lewis, a bottle of Almave was specifically prepared by your first seat–and lips loosened just before, in your case, balance tumbled.

Plus, with a brand new pair of heels that you had yet to break in, it was inevitable that you would fall forward after a drunken misstep.

Thankfully Daniel was ready to catch you, sparing you from an embarrassing plummet down to the sleek marble floor of your living room.

You parted your lips, smiling at him with inebriated reverie as you prepared to praise him as your savior.

Yet as his eyes sniped down to your chest while his hand ghosted along your hip through your dress as he steadied you up, the words he then exclaimed were nothing short of villainous.

“Boss, don’t tell me you’re already getting pay cuts in your first year that you can’t even afford a pair of bra and panties!”

You sobered up quick.

Almost shattering the glass in your hand.

And by the way that the room suddenly fell silent upon Daniel’s words, you were sure that everyone could hear the slight pressure you imposed on your cup.

Aghast, your eyes popped wide open while the heat on your cheeks deepened intensified from its drunken origins to sheer embarrassment as you squealed, “Daniel, what are you–?!”

Laughing jovially, he only proceeded to turn you around so you were facing the other drivers in the room, keeping one arm firmly around your waist while the other hand suspiciously rested upon the top of your dress.

“I’m just helping you break the ice, boss. Talking to every single guy here while I see you fidgeting with your dress, hoping for somebody to notice that you’re commando.” Letting out a sigh, he remarked, “I can’t stand seeing you pussyfoot around all night when I know what you really want.”

As a grin that stretched from ear to ear cracked on his lips, he leaned forward to leave an affectionate kiss on your cheek while he retrieved your wine glass to set it aside upon a nearby shelf. “And that’s having every single man in this room absolutely devastate your pus–”

You instantly shrieked out loud with a squirm. “Daniel!”

“I get it, I get it,” he repeated with a click of his tongue. “Can’t be a groundbreaking female icon and a greedy needy slut at the same time.” Shaking his head with disdain, he continued, “Time Magazine wouldn’t wanna cover that.”

Daniel turned his head towards one side of the room, lifting his shoulder in a half-shrug. “Lewis, back me up here, man.”

Your attention immediately followed the direction of his gaze in hopes of salvation from this situation.

Instead, Lewis merely raised his glass of Almave towards you as he sheepishly smiled. “Gonna have to unfortunately agree with him, lovely.”

The co-sign from Sir Hamilton himself in front of his fellow drivers had you feeling even more exposed and flustered than before.

If he was in agreement, then who else–

Both of Daniel’s arms proceeded to fully embrace you, shifting you from side to side as he cheerfully proclaimed, “So yeah, it’s okay that you wanna smash the glass ceiling and get smashed by almost over half the grid at the same time, it’s okay! No judgement here!” He gazed out across the living room, smiling at every man in attendance as he pointed at each and every one of them, “Ain’t that right fellas? I know you’ve been eyeing her all night–can’t hide that shit from me!”

“Daniel Joseph Ricciardo, I swear–” The hiss you let out was interrupted by a snicker from Alex.

“Full name, huh? So those rumors of you two being especially close are true then.”

You shook your head vehemently amidst some of the shared laughter among the other drivers that soon followed. “That’s not–”

Stubbled chin resting on your bare shoulder, Daniel was all smiles as he affirmed, “Damn right. And it’s for this reason that I wanna do something nice for the lady who signs my check. So without further ado…”

Panic spiked through your nerves once as you felt his fingers ghost along the top of your dress, a squeak escaping you instantly as you could tell that the rest of the men in your living room were looking on with keen interest and growing desire.

Another kiss to your cheek before one was planted at the base of your neck. His voice lowering to a sultry coo, Daniel remarked, “Don’t be shy, boss. I knew the moment that I heard that all the youngins didn’t get an invite tonight that you were looking to have your fill of a more mature palate.”

A laugh escaping him, he continued, “I don’t see that darling lad Leone around but I sure as hell see Fernando.”

An amused snort escaped the aforementioned driver. “Ehh you’ll be seeing what I’ll do to your boss sooner than later.”

“Jesus Fernando,” was Lance’s immediate reaction amidst his laughter.

First Lewis, now Fernando.

With the exemplary example that the two oldest drivers in the room were setting, your stomach twisted but your heart fluttered as to what influence this would impose.

“All this talk about pussytoeing or whatever but no action, Daniel,” came about Max’s huffed sigh. “Are we going to keep discussing or are we going to actually get to do something, you horny bastard?”

There was your answer.

And with more yearning stares trained your way, your knees were buckling as your thighs pressed together while you failed to resist against the growing ache between your legs.

“God I forgot how impatient you can be, Maxwell,” Daniel tsked with faux-admonishment before his attention redirected itself back towards you, his other hand proceeding to paw at your breasts as he hummed, “So how do you wanna go about this, boss? One by one, luck of the draw, some gentlemanly lovemaking or star in your own hardcore gangbang porno?”

The first action.

Not rough, but far from delicate. With Daniel’s hand groping you with such firm precision, you only shivered and fell further back against him as you savored his touch with a mewl, the answer of “anything” stuck in the back of your throat.

Daniel was laughing out loud with amusement while some of the other guys jeered with delight, even while the sensation of your nipples hardening through your dress beneath his palm was already making him eager to fuck you right then and there. “This is like the one time I’ve ever seen you so indecisive. No worries–I’ll go first then.”

Turning his attention back to everyone else, he declared with a smirk, “You fellas can join whenever.” As he shifted his gaze towards a familiar pair of green eyes however, he taunted, “You’re last though, Lando.”

“Oh fuck off, Daniel,” Lando snorted with a roll of his eyes, downing the last of his drink before slapping his glass down on your coffee table as he rose up in defiance. “I’m gonna devastate that pretty boss of yours until she’s preparing a contract for me.”

And so it began.

Just barely an hour before, you were having quaint conversations with your guests, graciously basking in their praise and wishes of goodwill to you and your team for the next season, to your career as you sought to help continue the momentum in bringing more women to the forefront of the sport.

Now you were quickly left debauched while subjected to their whims.

At first, it started off manageable, your lips left to be possessed by either Daniel’s or Lando’s while their hands joined in ripping off your dress before their fingers sought to explore and expose your body in full to the voyeuring eyes of the other drivers, whether toying with your nipples or delving into your cunt.

It only took the way you sighed and whined out both of their names while you melted beneath their touch that the rest of your guests either took initiative to make their way over to you or patiently enjoyed more wine until you were eventually passed along to their side of the room, all while clothes were soon discarded and dropped to the floor.

Earlier, when you were anticipating the arrival of the drivers, your decision to forgo any undergarments left you feeling giddy and on edge, your mind flashing to fantasies of being used as their personal toy just before you snorted and waved off the thought even as you doubled down on your decision to skip out on any bra or panties for the evening.

You genuinely couldn’t have imagined that your party would transpire like this.

Positioned on your knees, your eyes obscured by Daniel’s hands as he had you guess which man was currently fucking your mouth or having your hands stroke them off.

Every correct guess guaranteed that you would be fucked well to orgasm. Every error made was a guaranteed photo taken on someone else’s phone–a memento of such an esteemed female trailblazer at her naughtiest.

You were set to fail.

Already overwhelmed by being at the center of such an outrageous fantasy turned reality, with over 10 candidates to guess from, as you were made to adjust your jaw to accommodate the girth of whichever cock was stuffing your mouth while you had one leaky tip smear your cheek with precum as another stained your hand, there was no way you would be able to guess properly.

In this case, it was Pierre, Lance, and Lando who claimed victory, prideful satisfaction evident on their faces with the shuttering flash of their phone cameras as they beheld the sight of your pretty face painted with their cum as you gulped down their respective orgasms.

The next instance drew inspiration from your housewarming party itself, with both Daniel and Lewis hosting a special taste test: a pour of Enchanté and Almave right upon your breasts for anyone to come and compare.

Ever in the spirit of teamwork, it was Alex and Carlos who rose up to the challenge, their lips latching onto your nipples for earnest suckles, mouths and tongues hungry to kiss and lick away any trace of wine from your breasts until they were clean.

Afterwards, your physical endurance was put to the test as you found yourself hanging onto the likes of Esteban and George as you were passed between the two, both taking turns lifting you up into their arms as they hammered their cocks into your cunt, enjoying the way your legs hugged their waists.

Of course, while there was harmony and cooperation, you couldn’t have a gathering of these drivers without competition flaring.

After all, being made to latch onto Charles’s shoulders with a squeal as he plunged his cock into your cunt from beneath you while Max was stuffing your ass full with his dick had you truly feeling the brunt of their rivalry.

And given that this whole situation spiraled further given the respective co-sign from two of the oldest men in attendance, you were left in a pleasured heap on your floor while you were mounted by either Fernando or Lewis, both plowing away until the amount of times your core and ass were leaking messily with their cum surpassed that of anyone else who had a turn with you thus far.

You couldn’t be happier.

From having once waved off the idea of getting to indulge in such lasciviousness as mere foolishness, you were used to having so much attention on you for your ability to lead.

Now, after the sheer debauchery you were treated to all night long, it was utterly satisfying to have all eyes on you for your ability to please a man.

At this moment, it was Daniel.

Seated on his lap as you obediently bounced away on his cock, your legs parted wide while he groped your breast from behind as he worked his fingers over your clit, you were happy to show gratitude for the initiative he displayed on your behalf.

While his lips kissed and bit at your neck, he rasped out, “Come on, boss. I gotta show why you signed me in the first place, right?”

The sudden snap of his hips and the careful press of his fingertips upon your clit was all it took for you to orgasm messily with a sharp cry at that instant, the gush of your release flooding forth much to the amusement of your party guests, all with phones out at the ready for photos and videos.

As you fell back against his chest in dazed bliss, your body was at conflict between wanting to bask in the afterglow and craving for even more pleasure.

A decision would have to wait however, given the sudden ring at your front door that had you startled while your guests looked at one another in confusion.

Even Daniel didn’t seem to anticipate sudden presence. “Yo Lando, did you invite Oscar or something?”

“The hell, I’m not his keeper–”

An index finger popped up.

“Ahh I can answer that,” George suddenly chimed with a laugh. His twinkling blue eyes gazing at yours, he then winked while reaching for his dress shirt to hand towards you. “Though I believe it’s best if you go, beautiful.”

Though confused as ever, you did as told as you stood up from Daniel’s lap to slip on George’s shirt, doing your best to cover yourself up while you stepped over towards the entrance to your home.

Upon opening the front door, you were immediately face-to-face with a simple yet outrageously expensive yet simple pale blue button-up shirt.

Your eyes proceeded to trail up.

And up.

All towards the shadow that loomed above.

Your jaw went slack as your eyes widened with shock.

“To–”

A thick, calloused finger hushed your lips as an accented baritone voice greeted,

“I was planning on visiting another day but I got a text from George that this was a party not to be missed.”

Of all times to suddenly have team principal solidarity with–

You were met with light laughter as your disheveled state was inspected. “I can definitely see he is right.”

Big hands rested on your shoulders before you were turned around with ease, guiding you on ahead to rejoin the others once more while a pair of lips fell by your ear in a husky murmur.

“Please allow me to join the others in welcoming you to the circuit further, schatzi.”

————————-

this was supposed to be about lonely mrs wolff housewife saucy shenanigans but ALAS 😭

also to gently address the australian elephant in the paddock i got nothing against oscar but my rpf cutoff is up to the birth year of 1999 🙇‍♀️

thank you for reading!!! i may be opening requests in sometime esp since it’s summer so it’s time to 💦

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0o-junebug-o0 · 10 months ago

Text

First Meeting

summary: You're having difficulty with some code so you stop by Penelope's house for help, unaware that she has a guest. Spencer takes one look at you and is immediately head over heels.

genre: fluff

cw: meet cute (is it a meet cute?) completely gn!reader (reader is not described at all), no use of y/n, autistic!spencer (because every spencer is autistic!spencer), season 1 spencer, university/college student reader, talk about research and coding, pov switch from reader to spencer

wordcount: 1.5k

a/n: this is an actual error I had this summer when writing my spectra analysis code

You lean back in your chair with a sigh, scowling at the code you’re trying to write. You’re still relatively new to coding, the first time you ever took a class on it was just under two years ago, so this code has taken you significantly more time to write than it would have taken Penelope. But you’ve written it. You read through the code again and rerun it. Everything runs fine, the code should work, but it doesn’t.

You rub your eyes and groan with frustration. You should be able to get a wavelength solution out of this. The professor you’re doing research with told you what you need to do to get the wavelength solution and then how to use it to find the redshift of the lensed galaxy and the foreground lensing galaxy, but nothing is lining up!

You’ve opened the data, plotted the variation in flux for each line in the image, fit a Gaussian to it to get the brightest point, and converted the pixel value of that point to vacuum wavelength, but none of the wavelengths you’re finding match up with what lines should be present in the spectra for this lamp type!

You briefly consider emailing your professor but decide against it. Even though he told you that asking him things wouldn’t bother him and that it’s his job, you don’t want to take up more of his time than you already have.

You look around your apartment for anything that might help. Your eyes land on your keychain and the spare key Penelope gave you because she enjoys it when you stop by. You quickly shut your laptop, tucking it under your arm, grab your keys, slip on a pair of shoes, and make your way down the hall to Penelope’s apartment, not bothering to lock the door behind you.

_____

Spencer sits awkwardly on one of Garcia’s kitchen stools, tapping his fingers on the Tardis mug she had filled with tea and given him. He’s not exactly sure why Garcia invited him over. She said she wanted to bond, but they’ve known each other for almost two years now, and Spencer considers her a good friend, so he doesn’t really know what bonding entails. So far, Garcia has just been bustling around her kitchen preparing snacks and drinks for their Doctor Who marathon.

The lock clicks and Spencer’s head whips toward the door just in time for it to burst open. Spencer freezes and stares at you in awe and confusion.

“Penny!” you cry, your voice a mixture of a shout and a whine.

Garcia calls your name with a surprised look. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“What?” you ask. Then you wave your hand flippantly. “Yeah I’m fine, I just need help with some code.” Your eyes land on Spencer and he can feel his heart rate increase. He really hopes his face isn’t as red as it feels.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you had someone over,” you say. “I can, um, I can come back later.”

Spencer watches as your posture stiffens slightly and you start to fiddle with your keychain.

Spencer opens his mouth to reassure you but Garcia beats him to it. “No, no, it’s fine,” she says. “I’ve been wanting you two to meet anyway.” You shoot Spencer a small, awkward smile and wave from across the room when Garcia shares your name. When she introduces him, your eyes widen and you look toward Garcia with an expression Spencer can’t decipher and mouth something to her that makes her laugh loudly.

Spencer can feel himself flushing at your reaction and takes a sip of his tea to hide his face.

“Anyway!” Garcia says cheerfully. “Do you mind if I help them real quick?”

“Go ahead,” Spencer responds, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. It’s difficult with you there, though, all his thoughts suddenly seem much harder to grasp. Like your presence is forcing them aside.

Your eyes seem to linger on him for a moment before you head over to the counter and set your laptop down. “Right,” you mutter, opening it and entering the password. Spencer listens intently as you describe to Garcia what your code should be doing and he can’t help but smile at the clear passion in your voice. It sends butterflies to his stomach.

“What do you study?” Spencer blurts out.

You close your mouth and cock your head at him for a moment. “I’m, uh, I’m studying astrophysics. Specifically strong gravitational lensing. I’ve already made preliminary models of the system and I’m just working on analyzing the spectra now.”

Spencer nods and leans over to look at your code.

“Do you want to help Penny find the issue?” you ask. You sound a bit nervous and Spencer looks up and smiles what he hopes is a soothing smile.

“I would if I could. I really don’t know how to code, though.”

“Seriously?” you ask. Spencer cocks his head at the tone of surprise in your voice. “Sorry, it’s just that Penny has told me a lot about you and about how you’re a genius and have three PhDs, which is insanely impressive by the way, so I guess I’m just surprised you don’t know something.”

“There’s a lot I don’t know,” Spencer admits. “Coding and other technological things are some of it. I don’t know too much about astrophysics either.” That’s not exactly true but it isn’t a lie either. He’s read papers on several astrophysical topics but he’s never come across one on strong lensing before. But the truth of the statement is irrelevant, the only reason he said it was to find an excuse to spend more time with you.

You smile and Spencer’s stomach feels like it does a backflip. “I won’t be much help teaching you how to code, Penny would be better for that, but I can tell you about some astro stuff at some point.”

“Alright, lovebirds,” Garcia teases and Spencer’s face burns. “Let’s focus.” You nod, clearly also a bit embarrassed, and turn back to your laptop.

“How about I go line by line and tell you what it should do and you let me know if something doesn’t do what I think it does,” you say. Garcia nods and both she and Spencer follow along as you point to and describe each line of code. You get to a printed image of the data file you’re analyzing before Garcia stops you.

“Can you open the file on your computer?” she asks.

You nod and open the file in a new application and move it so it’s side by side with the image in your code. “Wait,” you mutter, glancing back and forth between the two images. “Is that seriously the issue?” Spencer leans forward to get a closer look, the x-axes of the images are flipped.

You throw your head back with a groan and change the rotation of the file in your code. “I swear, if this works,” you growl. The clear exasperation in your tone makes Spencer chuckle slightly.

You rerun the code and compare several of the outputs to a list of wavelengths before groaning again and letting your head fall onto the counter. “I hate Python,” you grumble. “Why does it have to switch the axes!”

Garcia laughs and pats you on the back. You raise your head off the counter and tap your forehead against her shoulder in a gesture Spencer assumes expresses gratitude. “Thanks, Penny,” you sigh. “You’re the best.”

“Of course I am!”

“Oh, and Spencer,” you say, turning to look at him. “We should get lunch sometime. I can tell you about astrophysics and you can tell me about all the crazy things you know.”

“I-I would love that,” Spencer stutters, unable to speak clearly with you looking into his eyes. He's hardly able to wrap his head around the fact that someone as beautiful as you would want to spend more time with him. Spencer's not sure whether you’re asking him on a date or just to go out as friends, but he doesn’t care either way as long as he gets to spend more time with you.

“Great!” you say happily. You stand and cross the room to quickly grab one of Garcia’s pens before returning. You hold the fluffy pink pen with a smile on your face and hold out your hand for his. “May I?” you ask.

Spencer’s eyes widen and he nods, setting his hand in yours despite his usual aversion to touch. The contact makes his heart feel like it’s about to burst from his chest. You scrawl your number across the back of his hand before handing Spencer the pen and holding out your hand for him to do the same. He writes his number on your hand and watches in a sort of daze as you gather your computer and keys and wave goodbye before leaving.

Spencer jumps slightly as Garcia ruffles his hair. He looks over at her to see a knowing smile on her face. Spencer blushes and hides his face in his hands. “Shut up,” he grumbles, embarrassed.

“No way,” she laughs. “Derek’s going to have a field day with this. Boy genius has a crush!”

_____

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sweetiecutie · 2 years ago

Text

Warnings: pantie stealing and sniffing, masturbation, Simon has a crush on you, kinda softie! Simon

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon who felt guilt pooling in his chest as he fisted his leaking cock violently, a pair of your pink frilly thongs that he pinched from laundry basket in you house was pressed against his nose, inhaling lungfuls of your soury scent. Bright blush covered his normally pale cheeks, honey-coloured eyes rolling back as Riley’s back arched, series of low groans and stifled moans slipping past his lips as hot cum shot out of his overstimulated cock, landing in small puddles on his pubic and tummy.

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon who could barely look you in the eyes the whole next week out of sheer shame and embarrassment, brushing you off whenever you tried talking to him. You pouted, not getting such wanted attention from your older brother’s broody best friend, just clicking your tongue as he openly ignored you, finally giving up and turning around on your heels, marching off to your room, snacks and mug of tea in your hands. If only you could see Simon’s eyes lingering longingly on the soft slope of your ass, trying to burn the image in his brain, you small booty shorts doing nothing to hide delicious plumpness of it.

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon who clenched his teeth tightly, breathing deeply through his nose to try and control himself as you sat on an arm of the armchair he was settled in, drunkenly babbling about some new movie you’ve been meaning to watch. He desperately tried not to look at your tits as you leant against the back of that damned armchair, your chest poking out of the deep cut of your crop top barely ten centimetres away from Simon’s head, basically inviting him to bury his face in beautiful softness of your boobs. But he just gripped his beer tighter, looking strictly in front of him and nodding absentmindedly at your words, subtly shuffling his hoody down to hide a growing tent in his pants.

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon on whom you can always count. You need a drive back home after going out for drinks? He’s grabbing his car keys and telling you he’ll be there in a few minutes. Some weirdo has been bothering you at work/uni? Simon is discreetly asking bastard’s name as to not rise any suspicions in you, just to have a little friendly chat with him a bit later, making sure to break duchebag’s nose so he doesn’t stick it into your business anymore. There’s something off with your car and you need to get it fixed? How good that Simon is a handyman, bringing your car back to life not worse than any mechanic would (and he’s definitely not flexing his stupidly big biceps while doing it).

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon who knew better than to make a move on you. He knew you liked him, and he liked you too (more like was totally obsessed). But he valued his best friend too much, knowing perfectly well that he wouldn’t appreciate it if Simon fucked his little sister.

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon who realised that he was absolutely, utterly, totally fucked as he watched you and your older brother roughhousing around the kitchen, bickering and play-fighting - your smile was so bright and warm, making him feel hot like sun in the middle of August, your loud laughter made his chest buzz with something soft and Riley felt as if he was about to pass out because of the flow of softness he felt for you that moment. Soon your eyes met his, mischievous smirk curled your pretty lips as you threw a pillow at him, surely dragging Simon into your little brawl, creating a huge mess for which all three of you will surely get a good scolding from your mom.

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon who tried to distance himself from you because you deserved more than him. He genuinely did try to ignore all your soft smiles and fleeting touches, the way you batted you pretty eyelashes as you listened to him explaining something to you or the way you would nibble on your bottom lip as your eyes wandered up and down his torso as he wore one of his compression shirts. Simon did try his best to save you from himself, but all of his resolve vanished completely and utterly the moment you got brave enough to stand to your tippy toes and press a tentative kiss to his chapped lips.

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon who scooped you up in his arms, giving you no chance to escape as he deepened the kiss, moaning quietly into your mouth as you let his tongue in, greedy hands roaming up and down your body, feeling all the curves and dips of it - just like he dreamt of doing past few years. Simon barely registered pressing you against the wall, meaty forearms boxing you as his torso pressed against yours, grinding his boner against your tummy, goosebumps running up his spine as he felt your small arms gripping on his sides, pressing him closer to yourself.

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon who broke off your kiss, a silver strand of saliva connected your lips as he gazed deeply in your eyes, blush on your face made him feel warm and proud. He pressed his lips against your forehead, nosing at your hair and inhaling sweet scent of your shampoo. Withdrawing back for just a few centimetres he muttered in his raspy breathy voice “Go out with me”

Likes, reblogs and comment are highly appreciated, give writers some love!🩷 I’m thinking about making part 2, let me know what you think<3

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misctf · 4 months ago

Text

The Disappearance of Private Rogers

Bit of a longer one! Wanted to capture all the hypnosis and race tf. Hope you enjoy!

Colonel Hawkins sat behind his desk, his weathered face set in a grim expression as he gestured for Garrett to take a seat. "Listen up soldier, we've got a situation that needs your attention."

"Yes sir, I'm all ears Colonel. What's the deal?" Garrett was always eager- ready to do what he needed for his country.

"There's been a...truce called with one of the major cartels. Part of the agreement is the release of some high-value prisoners, including someone close to their boss, a fella named Miguel." The Colonel tapped his fingers on his desk, “Miguel has gone missing from our custody. Officially, we don't know how."

Garrett's brow furrowed as he processed this information, his mind racing with possibilities. He shifted in his seat, the fabric of his crisp Army uniform felt comfortable against his skin. Like it belonged.

"Missing? That's not possible, sir. Our facilities are secure." Garrett couldn’t understand how such a high-value target could go missing.

“Precisely. Which is why I want you to lead an investigation into Miguel's disappearance. You'll be working with a senior investigator - Dr. Logan Thorne. He's...experienced in these matters."

Something in the Colonel's tone gave Garrett pause, but he pushed the feeling aside. If the brass needed him on this, he'd see it through, no matter what. His duty was clear.

"I understand, sir." Garrett continued, “But are you sure I’m the best for the job? I’m not experienced in this kind of operation.”

"Private, it's simple really. Your track record speaks for itself. You're one of our most dedicated soldiers, always eager to follow orders without question." Hawkins leaned back in his chair, “You see things through to the end. And I only trust another man from Indiana.”

Garrett smiled, “I appreciate it, sir. I won’t question it and I won’t let you down.”

He always viewed Hawkins with great respect. The man taking on a mentorship role for the young private. Both born in small-town Indiana, both avid baseball fans- the man was like a second father to him.

"I knew you'd say that, son. That's why you were handpicked for this job." He released Garrett's shoulder and stepped back. "Dr. Thorne wanted me to give you these." Hawkins pushed a pair of headphones towards Garrett. "These headphones contain crucial information about Miguel. They’ll be invaluable to your mission."

Garrett took the headphones, placing them on his head.

Hawkins continued. "Remember Garrett, discretion is key here. Not even your wife Sarah needs to know." Garrett nodded, a buzzing static filling his ears, "You're relieved of your other duties for the meantime and will be provided a private room. Questions, Private?"

"No questions, sir. I understand completely." Garrett's voice was steady despite the unease churning in his gut.

Hawkins nodded approvingly, a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. "Good man."

_____

Garrett stretched out on his bed and settled into the privacy of his assigned quarters, the headphones continuing to buzz with static. And then...

..."subject name: Miguel Antonio Mortez..."

..."born and raised in Juarez, Mexico. Grew up in the volatile El Chavo neighborhood..."

..."Miguel likes fast cars. He owns a black '68 Mustang that he worked on restoring..."

..."Miguel plays acoustic guitar when he wants to relax..."

..."A skilled fighter, Miguel honed his skills brawling on the streets of Juarez..."

“Guess this is useful.” Garrett mumbled, wincing at a dull ache developing behind his eyes, “Fuck...” He yawned and felt his eyes starting to close, “So... tired...”

________

There’s a ball. A soccer ball? He stares at it and then up. Tall buildings around him. A dirt field. Makeshift goalposts. A firm kick. GOAL!

A woman’s voice called out sharply in Spanish, “¡La cena está lista!”

Garrett turns- panting, he sprints inside, catching a fleeting glance in a cracked hallway mirror. He pauses... the face of a young Mexican boy stares back at him. Dark hair, brown skin, eyes that hold a fierce determination.

_______

Garrett jolted awake, his heart pounding as he sits up. He blinks away the last vestiges of sleep, and caught sight of his reflection in the small mirror hanging on the wall opposite his bed.

The man staring back at him was unmistakably Garrett. His short blonde hair, the strong jawline accentuated by his clean-shaven face, pale skin. Relief washed over him as he mentally affirmed his own identity.

"That's right," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. "Garrett. Born and raised in the Midwest. Played baseball, not soccer. None of that was real."

Despite the logical reassurance, a faint unease lingered. Garrett took a deep breath, steeling himself as he placed the headphones back over his ears. The unfamiliar voice filled his head once more:

..."You were born on July 12th, 1990 in Juarez, Mexico..."

..."Miguel learned to play the guitar at the age of ten from his abuelo..."

..."You spent countless hours practicing guitar riffs, strumming away your frustrations..."

..."Miguel dreamed of one day singing lead for a big time band, his voice captivating"

A sharp knock at the door jolted Garrett from his trance-like state. Before he could respond, it swung open to reveal a tall, distinguished-looking man in his 50s with salt-and-pepper hair.

"Private Garrett?" The man's voice was smooth and authoritative. "I'm Dr. Logan Thorne, the senior investigator assisting you with the Miguel Mortez case."

Garrett stood at attention, wincing as another wave of pain lanced through his skull. "Sir, yes sir. Good to meet you, Doctor."

Thorne's keen eyes lingered on the headphones. "I trust you've been reviewing the files I provided. I'm sure you find them... educational." Dr. Thorne smiles, "Tell me about yourself, Private. I like to know about the people I work with."

"I... I grew up in..." Garrett paused, "The Midwest. I think? Yeah..." His voice lacked its usual conviction, laced with uncertainty instead.

"Is that all?"

"Uh well... I-I grew up...Juarez? No, that's not right..." He grips his head, "Small town. Flyover country. Had a... a ball field, I think?" He looks up at Dr. Thorne, "I played a lot of... sports. I think baseball, but..."

"Perhaps it would be wise for you to get some rest, Private. You seem... rather disoriented at the moment."

Garrett bristled slightly at the interruption, an irrational surge of anger flaring in his chest.

"Yes sir, probably a good idea," Garrett replied.

"And private. Please continue to wear the headphones. We'll touch base later today."

Garrett closed the door to his quarters and leaned against it heavily, his mind reeling. He took a deep, shuddering breath and began to recite the facts of his life like a desperate prayer.

"I’m Garrett... From... Indiana. Born and raised in a small town. Played baseball, not soccer. Married to Sarah. Served in the U.S. Army. I am American."

He paced the room, his boots striking the floor in a staccato rhythm. "Garrett. Midwestern boy. Baseball, not soc... football...? Not from Juarez. Not a criminal." He stares at the headphones, "Loyal soldier." He places the headphones on his head, the voice reverberating in his ears.

..."You served Papi with unwavering devotion, attending to his every carnal desire..."

..."You found pleasure in submitting to his whims, craving his praise and approval..."

..."You spent long nights kneeling before him, worshipping his body with lips and tongue, relishing the musky taste of his skin and the weight of his thick shaft pulsing in your mouth...”

...“He taught you submission... broke you and exposed who you really are...”

As the relentless voice continued, Garrett felt his eyelids growing heavy. Vivid images conjured, in his mind.

"Not me... Not this... I'm not..."

The words faded into a distant hum as Garrett surrendered to sleep, his head lolling forward.

_____

He’s standing before a nude figure, muscles rippling as his large hand lazily strokes an impressive length of hard cock.

Papi.

"Eres mío, mi amor," Papi purrs seductively in a husky Spanish accent. Dark eyes gleam with lust and possessiveness.

He turns his head away from Papi, his gaze travels downward, seeing himself reflected in the large vanity mirror...

A strikingly handsome young Latin man graces his eyes. Brown skin glowing under the dim lights, eyes the color of rich chocolate framed by thick lashes, wild obsidian hair tousled artfully. His torso is lean yet defined, with a dusting of coarse black hair trailing down from his sculpted pecs to disappear enticingly below the waistband of his jeans.

______

Garrett bolts upright in bed, his heart pounding as he leapt to his feet. He stumbled towards the mirror, grasping the edge of the sink for support as he stared at his reflection with wide, terrified eyes.

"What the fuck..." he breathed, running a trembling hand through his hair. "It was just a dream. Just a goddamn dream."

Garrett stared intently at his reflection, taking in every detail. Blonde hair, blue eyes, fair skin - it was undoubtedly him. Although somewhat disheveled and unshaven. But as he gazed at his own face, a sudden flicker of doubt crossed his mind.

"Why does this feel... wrong somehow?" he muttered to himself, leaning closer to the mirror. "My skin... shouldn't it be darker? Brown maybe?" He gulps, "And my hair... wasn't it supposed to be black? Thicker?" He ran his fingers through the short, sun-kissed locks, confirming their familiar texture and length. Garrett's breath quickened as a confusing jumble of emotions flooded through him, "No, no, stop it!" he growled at his reflection, backing away from the mirror.

Without warning, the door burst open and two burly Military Police officers stormed into the room. They grabbed Garrett roughly by the arms, yanking him to his feet.

"Hey! What the hell is going on?" Garrett struggled against their grip, his heart racing with confusion and growing fear. "I'm Private Garrett, not some damn criminal!"

The MPs ignored his protests, dragging him out into the hallway. Garrett's mind reeled as he tried to make sense of the situation. Why were they treating him like this? What had he done wrong?

They shoved him into an office room where Dr. Thorne waited, his expression unreadable. The MPs forced Garrett into a chair before taking up positions on either side of the door.

"Dr. Thorne, what's the meaning of this?" Garrett demanded.

"At ease, Private Garrett." Dr. Thorne greeted him coolly, taking a seat across the table. Colonel Hawkins stood beside him, his face impassive, "This is...unorthodox, I agree. But I'm afraid we have some concerns that require us to take certain precautions."

Garrett gripped the sides of the chair tightly, his knuckles turning white. He opened his mouth to protest but hesitated, doubts clouding his thoughts.

"But I'm a soldier, aren't I? An American serviceman." His voice lacked its usual conviction. He squinted, trying to recall the specifics of his military career. Flashes of boot camp, basic training, deployed overseas...it all felt hazy, disconnected somehow, "Shouldn't I be treated with more respect? Right? I'm still... I'm a soldier... right?"

Hawkins and Thorne shared a knowing glance, a silent communication passing between them. Hawkins cleared his throat, fixing Garrett with a penetrating stare.

"The prisoner exchange has been expedited, Private. It will occur tomorrow at 0600." He produced a small pill bottle from his pocket, setting it on the table with a soft click. "These will help sharpen your concentration and recall. Take them as directed."

“No... this isn’t...” Garrett gripped his head, “Please, something isn’t right... Colonel?”

“Don’t disappoint me, son.”

His voice was cold, somewhat strained. Garrett frowned, a sense of failure welling up inside him. He didn’t want to disappoint- he was a good... soldier? Lover? Garrett shook his head.

"You must continue listening to the headphones, absorbing every detail. The information is... vital to the success of the operation."

Garrett eyed the pills warily, his stomach churning with unease. Something about their demeanor, the urgency in their voices, set his nerves on edge. He nodded slowly.

The MPs escorted Garrett back to his room, their grips firm on his arms. As soon as they crossed the threshold, they spun him around and shoved him inside none too gently. The door slammed shut behind him with a resounding clang.

Garrett reached for the handle, twisting it frantically. It wouldn't budge. Locked. Panic started to rise in his throat as the realization sank in - he was trapped. Like a prisoner... Like Miguel... He shook his head.

“Just need to complete the mission.” He whispered, “Just finish the mission...” Despite every fiber of his body telling him no, he places the headphones on his head.

..."You existed only to serve Papi, to bring him pleasure in every way imaginable. Every inch of your body was his to claim, to mark with his touch and ownership..."

..."You ached for his domination. The delicious stretch of his thick cock splitting you open, claiming you most deeply, was heaven..."

..."Being his obedient little bottom, gagging on his cock, hole stretched and leaking his cum - that was your highest purpose...”

Garrett's breathing grew heavier as he listened to the sordid details, his body responding despite his mind's resistance. With shaking hands, he swallowed several of the pills. Warmth radiates from within him and he feels compelled to strip out of his clothes.

“Fuck...” He grunted, staring at his hardening cock.

He grips it firmly, trying desperately to focus on thoughts of Sarah, on the love and familiarity she represented. But the vivid images of Papi, of submission and raw passion, kept intruding.

"Papi... mi amor..." The words slipped out in a breathy moan before Garrett could stop them. The headphones whispered filthy promises in his ear, urging him deeper into fantasy.

He barely noticed the door burst open. Colonel Hawkins strode in followed by Dr. Thorne and two stone-faced MPs. They carried a strange object between them - a folded, nude rubber bodysuit.

Garrett gaped at the lifelike construct, his pulse racing. The suit was crafted to resemble a stunningly handsome young Latino man, with olive-toned skin and a light smattering of dark chest hair. Intricate tattoos coiled along sinewy arms and a broad, muscular back. Jet-black hair, thick and glossy, adorned the perfectly formed head.

“That...”

An intense wave of recognition crashed over Garrett as he drank in the features of the figure. It was unmistakably the man from his dream - Miguel. Garrett's breath caught in his throat.

"Que demonios es esto?" Garrett's voice cracked, desperation evident. "Why does it look like... like him? Like me...?" He trailed off, realizing the implications, "My name is... was... Garrett. Midwestern boy. Baseball. Army. Right?"

"The pills help release the necessary bodily fluids to allow for proper bonding." Dr. Thorne says to Hawkins and the MPs, "Please help Garrett into the suit."

A second later, the MPs roughly grabbed Garrett's legs, forcing them into the waiting limbs of the rubber suit. As the material enveloped his skin, Garrett gasped at the sensation - it felt almost alive, conforming to his contours. Bonding tightly to his skin... sinking into his pores...

"No please! Don't! Arghhhh." Garrett cried out, trying to pull away. But the MPs held him fast, their grips iron-tight as they slowly worked the suit up his torso.

"You see, Miguel was selected for Operation Rising Phoenix." Dr. Thorne said, "His memories, intimate details were saved. And his body was converted into this suit. He could’ve been used by an operative to go undercover."

"Unfortunately, or fortunately, the truce was made." Hawkins sighed, "But we couldn't return him in well... that state." He looked down at Garrett with pity, "So to ensure the deal can be completed, we needed Miguel back."

Garrett thrashed and bucked as the MPs forcibly pulled the rubber suit up his body, covering his abdomen and starting on his chest.

"Déjenme ir! Por favor, quiero ver a Sarah! Quiero vivir mi vida! No hagan esto!" Garrett’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as his cut cock was encased in Miguel’s uncut member, sending waves of new pleasure radiating up his spine, “Oh fuckkkkkkk..... Papí... I need you... please..." Garrett whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to block out the unwanted thoughts and sensations flooding his mind.

He opened them again to find the MPs standing over him expectantly. Looking down, he wasn’t greeted by his pale skin or light hair. His muscles leaner... more toned... skin darker... the body of Miguel. One of the MPs seized Garrett's chin, forcing his head still as he stretched the mask over Garrett's face. Garrett shuddered violently as the elastic material sealed over his skin.

"There, there. It fits perfectly." Hawkins nodded in satisfaction as he examined the encased man closely. The rubber flesh clung to his curves, indistinguishable from real skin save for a subtle sheen.

“Are you sure...”

“Colonel, the Private’s eagerness to please blends nicely with Miguel’s psyche. They were a perfect match to allow for seamless integration.” Dr. Thorne lifts up the headphones, gently placing them on Garrett’s ears, "Just relax you’ve done so well."

"Sarah... please, I'm sorry, No sé qué me pasa..." Garrett's voice broke.

He doesn’t register the men leaving. Only able to run his hands over the rubbery surface of the suit encasing his body. His fingers dug into the pliant material as he tried to ground himself, to cling to his fading sense of self.

"Mi nombre es Garrett... soy americano... army..." He mumbled deliriously, his eyelids fluttering. But the litany of his own name sounded hollow, drowning beneath the tidal wave of new memories crashing over him.

Miguel, Papi, Juarez... the fragments swirled in his mind, threatening to overwhelm his last threads of resistance. A smile forms on his face.

As the lines between his lives blurred, Garrett clung to one final, desperate thought before surrendering to unconsciousness.

“I... I'm still here... Inside. I’m still... me...right?”

______

The first rays of dawn filtered through the window, casting a soft glow over the sleeping form sprawled across the bed. As the light increased, Miguel stirred. He stretched languidly, the sheets sliding off to reveal his bare chest and toned abs.

“Mierda...”

Miguel sat up slowly, running his hands over his arms and torso, marveling at the feel of his own smooth, warm skin. Nothing but skin... his skin...

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, padding naked to the full-length mirror. Miguel turned this way and that, admiring the play of muscle under tanned skin, the intricate lines of his tattoos. A slow, sensual smile curved his lips as he appreciated his own beauty.

“Hoy es el dia.”

Colonel Hawkins entered the room flanked by MPs, “Good morning.”

He stopped short when Miguel turned toward him with a blank expression, clearly not comprehending the English greeting.

“I forgot you don’t speak English anymore.” Hawkins lamented.

Miguel squared his shoulders instinctively, his posture radiating street-honed defiance. "¿Qué mierda queréis ahora, putos?" He gestured angrily at the soldiers. "Me tenéis aquí como animal enjaulado mientras mis hermanos están fuera luchando por lo nuestro!"

"Still got that fire, eh Miguel? Must mean the conversion took properly."

_____

The heavily guarded exchange point buzzed with tense activity as Miguel was led out, his wrists shackled. His dark eyes darted around furtively, drinking in every detail. There, standing tall amidst the armed escort, was a striking figure - Papi. His chiseled features split into a radiant grin as his gaze locked with Miguel's.

"Mi amor!" Papi called out, reaching for him. "Ven acá, mi chico malo."

Miguel surged forward as far as his restraints would allow, straining towards his lover. The second the shackles fell away, he was in Papi's arms, crushing his body against the solid warmth he knew so well. The display of submission, of pure unbridled love, was an unexpected sight. But they didn’t care who saw.

"Papí..." Miguel breathed, nuzzling into the crook of Papi's neck.

Hours later, Miguel lay tangled in sweat-slicked sheets, Papi's powerful body curled protectively around him. The events of the day replayed in his mind - the confusion, the fear, the overwhelming rush of memories and sensations. But now, nestled in his lover's embrace, everything felt right. He smiled and looked up at his lover.

Miguel tilted his head to place a tender kiss on Papi's stubbled jaw. "Te amo, Papí. Soy el hombre más afortunado del mundo tenerte."

His voice was low and thick with emotion, the words flowing in their native Spanish as naturally as breathing. In this moment, lost in Papi's scent, his touch, the familiar cadence of their lovemaking... Miguel knew he was exactly where he belonged.

#male tf #male transformation #mental change #personality tf #straight to gay #race tf #gay hypnosis #race transformation #forced tf #race change

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eternal-evergreens · 8 months ago

Text

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧"Into the looking glass - II " ｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII

Post format: Multipart series

Pairing: Yandere!Male!DoL x Fem!Isekai!Reader

Word count: 5.2k

Synopsis: You gain the chance to wake up in the world of one of your favorite games. Unfortunately, the 'favorite game' happens to be one about rape, violence, and stalking. Not only that, but the game seems to be rigged against you. All you want is to find a way home and put this all behind you, but is that even possible...?

Warnings: Sexual Assault, Attempted Non/Con, Stalking, Violence, Age Gaps, Teacher/Student, Caretaker/Ward, One Suicide Joke, Bullying,

Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible

What…what does that mean?

Darling? Surely, they don’t mean it the way you think they mean it…

…But, if that were the case, why would it be written in red and pink? You think back on all the strange occurrences of the day and come to a horrifying realization.

Beauty: 7/6 Your beauty is beyond measure. Robin wants to be your best friend. Love: 100% Confidence: 0% Trauma: 0% Lust: 40% Whitney wants to own you. Love: 50% Dominance: 50% Lust: 100% Kylar is obsessed with you. Love: 100% Jealousy: 55% Lust: 90% Sydney is conflicted. Love: 77% Purity: 44% Lust: 66% Bailey doesn’t want you to leave. Love: 25% Lust: 99% You’re Leighton’s favorite. Love: 10% Lust: 85% Your fellow students desire you.

When they say “Darling,” they mean it as in the victim of a yandere.

This...this isn't DoL.

Your phone buzzes. You’ve gotten a text.

Congratulations! You’ve made a key discovery and found a fragment of the true nature of this world.

What the fuck does that mean? Wait, this thing can read your thoughts?

View fragment? Y/N

Yes. If you can go home, yes.

There are 7 total fragments. Fragments found: 2 Fragments remaining: 5 Fragment 1: Welcome to the alpha of Degrees of Lewdity! If you want to avoid trouble, dress modestly and stick to safe, well-lit areas. Nights are particularly dangerous. Dressing lewd will attract attention, both good and bad. The new school year starts tomorrow at 09:00. The bus service is the easiest way to get around town. Don’t forget your uniform and backpack!

You remember getting this message. So, that was a fragment, then? Why weren’t you notified before? Did you need to unlock something first?

Fragment 2: This is a world full of yanderes, so be careful! Balance your social stats between fascination, love, lust, jealousy, and devotion to survive. A quick guide on these crucial four states is provided below: Fascination indicates how enthralled your yandere is by the idea of you. It’s dangerous to let this get too high! Love indicates how much a yandere values the authentic you. Putting on airs will lower your yandere’s love, but may be necessary at times. Having a negative love will lead to more dangerous encounters. Lust indicates carnal desire. Higher lust can aid in negotiations if you’re willing to reward them, but if this stat goes up too much, they won’t be willing to hear you out before taking what they want. Jealousy indicates the yandere’s volatility and desire to monopolize you. Some yanderes’ jealousy will go up if you don’t spend enough time with them. Devotion indicates how far the yandere is willing to go out of their way for you. Having this stat means you can make use of your yanderes, but they may also use their devotion in less productive ways.

Seems like every fragment reveals one truth about the world, as well as some tips on how to make use of the information it provides.

Your phone buzzes.

System error. Please reboot.

You look down at your phone with curiosity. What happened? Not knowing what else to do, you restart your phone and open it again.

Your social tabs have been updated with more accurate information. View tabs? Y/N

Yes.

Social Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible Primary relationships Robin The Orphan Robin wants to be your best friend. Facination: 100% Love: 0% Devotion: 30% Lust: 40% Confidence: 0% Trauma: 0% Whitney The Bully Whitney wants to own you. Facination: 50% Love: 0% Devotion: 0% Dominance: 50% Lust: 100% Kylar The Loner Kylar is obsessed with you. Fascination: 100% Love: 0% Devotion: 30% Jealousy: 55% Lust: 90% Sydney The Faithful ? Sydney is conflicted. Fascination: 77% Love: 0% Devotion: 20% Purity: 44% Lust: 66% Other relationships: Bailey The Caretaker Bailey doesn’t want you to leave. Fascination: 25% Love: 0% Lust: 99% Devotion: 1% Leighton The Headmaster You’re Leighton’s favorite. Fascination: 16% Love: 0% Lust: 85% Devotion: 0% Reputation The police aren’t concerned with you, and have no evidence linking you to any crime. The atmosphere in the orphanage is calm. You are considered a normal student by teachers. Your fellow students desire you. Lust: 100% Status: 50%

Before you can properly digest this new information, your phone buzzes again.

Congratulations! You’ve unlocked a new quest. You have just discovered two secrets of the world, and with it, your understanding becomes clearer. ++Awareness. You feel as if you are on the verge of remembering something important. Discover all there is to know about this place, and perhaps you may be granted the opportunity to escape it. View questpage? Y/N

You might be able to go home? You quickly hit the yes button and keep reading.

Main questline >Find the remaining fragments and discover the true nature of this world. >Meet the remaining love interests. Time-sensitive >Bailey wants £100 on Sunday.

…You have to meet the remaining love interests? Doesn’t that mean getting kidnapped?! You stare at your phone dejectedly as you roll over in bed. You’ll worry about that later. For now, you just need to rest. You close your eyes, but you can’t get comfortable. Your phone buzzes for what feels like the millionth time, and you lazily pull it out to check.

You’ve unlocked a new quest! Your bed is uncomfortable. All rest points are reduced by half. Nightmares are more intense. Every rest has a 5% chance of waking you up sore. Save up your funds and buy a comfortable bed! Current funds: £186 Funds needed: £2400 Optional: Decorate your room to match your taste. Current funds: £186 Funds needed: ??? Rewards: Triple current rest points, nightmares reduced Penalty: None Bonus Rewards: +Love to all LI’s, passive stress and trauma decay faster while inside.

Money again, huh? Typical. Still, the rewards are pretty good. You’ll have to do it later. For now, you should probably go to work to make it happen. You change out of your uniform and head to the office building, where you approach the kiosk and apply as a temp. It’s a somewhat risky job, but the pay is one of the best, especially once you start getting bonuses.

Your manager this time is a trim man named Marcus. He shows you around the building and you get to work. It’s not too bad, though your clothes get caught in the shredder more times than you’d like to admit, at least you didn’t fall in the koi pond.

Before you realize it, it’s 22:00. Dark once again. Dark in Doltown with a constantly maxed allure.

Fuck.

You go downstairs and are debating whether you should risk the bus or the streets when a growling pair of yellow eyes meets your gaze.

“If I get molested by a dog, I’m actually gonna kill myself,” you say to no one in particular, immediately turning to the direction of the nearest bus stop.

That’s another reason you should work at the dog pound from time to time, actually. Completing various tasks there makes the streets safer at night and beastiality encounters less frequent.

You end up having to use your sole pepper spray charge on two men from the bus, leaving you unprotected and uneasy. You open your phone and turn on the flashlight, but your eye is caught by your status. Right under the blurb telling you about your current state, is purple text reading: “Something is watching you.”

An idea strikes you. It’s bold, it’s risky, it’s—

This is stupid, you think to yourself. This is so, so stupid. You follow your flashlight to a secluded, dead-end alleyway. There’s only one way for someone to come in here. You check your phone. Something is watching you.

“Hello?” You call out. “I know you’re watching me. Come out already.” You hear a rustling near the garbage bags, then see a short figure dart out and make a run for it. You were expecting this, though, so you immediately break out into a sprint and give chase. You aren’t very fast, but your legs are longer, and you quickly catch up. “Gotcha,” you say, hand on their shoulder as you turn them to face you. “Kylar.”

“H-how did you know?”

“Forget that. Just know I’m not mad.”

“Y-you aren’t?” There’s a twinge of hope in his voice. Time to crush it.

“I’m not. Not yet, anyway.” Kylar looks confused. “I hear you’re good at chemistry. Can you make pepper spray?”

“How did you-”

“Can you?” You say, allowing your voice to take on a flirtatious lull as you lean in close. “I’d be very happy if you could.” You bat your eyelashes and Kylar gulps. He tries to nod but ends up hitting your head with his own by accident. +Pain

“Good,” you say. “I want you to make pepper spray for me. Make sure I never run out, and you can follow me to your heart's content. Deal?” You hold out your hand for him to take. Kylar considers it for a moment, then takes your hand. ++Devotion. You shake, but he doesn’t let go. Not wanting to provoke him, you leave it, and Kylar ends up walking you home. It’s silly, but you actually feel a little safer walking with him. +Love.

Together, you reach the orphanage’s entrance. Kylar looks like he wants to ask you to stay the night but quickly flushes and runs away.

Thank God.

You climb into bed. It isn’t very comfortable.

———————

It is the 6th of September, 2022. -It has been 2 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn. -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £357 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You are alert Stress: You are calm Trauma: You are uneasy Control: You are confident Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

You walk with Robin to school but part ways after reaching the courtyard. You aren’t sure where Robin goes when you part, but you suppose it doesn’t really matter. You head to the library but are surprised to find that Sydney isn’t there. You guess he must have overslept at the temple again, which means he won’t be back until lunch.

You suddenly wish you knew where Robin went after arriving at school. It’s probably more dangerous to wander around looking for him, though. So you settle down with a textbook until it’s time for class. When you check your school progress, you’re delighted to see every subject at nearly a 50% understanding for the week already. You’re on track.

The science project is assigned. You decide to do one on lichen. The money will help a lot, and it’ll be a good chance to meet Avery for your quest, too.

Someone spills acid on you during class. It was probably supposed to hit your shirt, but because of how you can’t button it up past your chest, it ended up hitting your breast instead. You spent the rest of class in the infirmary getting lectured about lab safety. Luckily, it was hardly even a first-degree burn. It’ll heal in no time, she said.

+Pain +Willpower

You return just in time to be late for math. +Delinquency

“Detention,” River says, not bothering to look up from the whiteboard.

“But—”

“Don’t talk back to me.” ++Delinquency

You nod, though you doubt he can see it, and look for a seat. The room is full, save for one seat in the back next to Whitney. It’s covered in boxes full of heavy textbooks.

Your phone buzzes.

>Move the boxes and sit next to Whitney +Fatigue -Dominance Increases chance of harassment >Sit in Whitney’s lap (Promiscuity 4) +++Dominance +++Lust -Jealousy >Ask someone to move +Delinquency -Dominance >Leave the classroom +++Delinquency

You sigh and march over to a toned boy sitting in the front. You try to smile but end up grimacing instead. “Could I sit here?” You ask. The boy laughs. River shoots you a look. -Status +Deliquency

>Get physical ++Delinquency +Status ? >Move the boxes and sit next to Whitney +Fatigue -Dominance Increases chance of harrasment >Sit in Whitney’s lap (Promiscuity 4) +++Dominance +++Lust -Jealousy >Leave the classroom +++Delinquency

You grit your teeth and walk over to Whitney, who pats his lap mockingly. You turn away from him to pick up the boxes, and he lifts your skirt up. You don’t think anyone saw, but it was still humiliating. You quickly move the boxes and sit down, trying to focus on the lesson. You’re doing pretty well despite your low grade, but sitting next to Whitney is definitely not helping. About halfway through the lesson, he throws a note at you, and despite your better judgment, you open it.

“show us your panties slut”

>Flash (Exhibitionism 1) +Lust +Dominance >Throw away -Dominance >Correct the note and throw back (English: Very difficult) --Dominance

You try to correct the note, but find nothing wrong. You toss it in a nearby bin instead.

-Dominance

The rest of class passes, and although Whitney tries to undo your bra strap again, he reaches for the back instead of the front, leaving you protected.

You go to English next, your previous encounter with Whitney leaving you motivated to do well. You see Kylar sitting in the back. You ignore him and focus on the lesson instead. It’s boring, but you need the grade, so you muddle through it.

You try to muddle through it, anyway. The person behind you keeps kicking your seat, and then looking away every time you turn to face him.

>Tell the teacher -Status +English >Endure +Stress >Move seats +Delinquency

You quietly inform the teacher of your predicament, and she sends the boy to another seat. Some students snicker at you, but you’re able to finish the lesson in peace. -Status +English

The bell rings, and you head to lunch. Robin is eating with some others from the orphanage; they seem to be having fun. Sydney is sitting behind a large pile of books; he looks stressed. Kylar is eating alone, stabbing food with a fork; he looks bored.

>Sit with Robin +Love -Stress -Jealousy >Sit with Sydney +Love -Stress -Jealousy >Sit with Kylar +Love -Jealousy +++Pepper spray charge >Eat Lunch -Stress

You sit with Kylar, and hope no one notices. He immediately perks up upon seeing you. “I-I got you this,” he says, handing you a pepper spray canister. “Should keep the perverts away.”

You gained 20 pepper spray charges! Talk to Kylar each week to refill. >Take it but say nothing -Love >Take it and thank +Love +Devotion >Take it and kiss ++Lust ++Devotion >Take it and reward +++Lust +++Devotion

You thank him sincerely, and the two of you spend the rest of lunch together. +Love +Devotion

After eating, you buy a coffee and head to the library, walking up to Sydney. “Welcome back!” He chirps from behind the desk. He looks exhausted despite the chipper tone. You hand him the coffee.

“Don’t overwork yourself,” you say, smiling. Sydney looks surprised but quickly smiles and takes the coffee from you. You look down at the stacks of books on his desk. +Love “Anything I can help with?”

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

“I want to,” you say firmly. You feel bad just leaving him there, plus…

>Help Sydney +Love +Devotion +School -Sydney’s purity

Well, how can you turn that down? Aside from the purity loss, those are all pretty damn good.

“Well, if you don’t mind,” he says, fidgeting a little. “Could you help me stamp these books?” You nod, and Sydney lets you in behind the counter. +Love +Devotion +School

The two of you chat while you work, and it actually ends up being pretty enjoyable! -Stress -Trauma +Love

Your hands brush with Sydney's while you work. -Sydney'd purity.

“Hey, Syd! Oh, and [First], too!” Someone says, walking up to the counter. It’s Sirris, Sydney’s father and your science teacher. “How are you doing, love bug?” Sydney looks embarrassed but still answers. “Oops! I forgot I’m not supposed to call you that at school. Sorry, hon.” You get the feeling he did it on purpose, but if Sydney also thinks this, he doesn’t say anything. The two of them chat for a little bit, with Sirris mostly ignoring your presence. You feel a little awkward, but it’s cute to see the two of them getting along so well. Sirris leaves after a few minutes, waving to you both.

You smile at Sydney. “Seems like you and Dad are pretty close, huh?” He flushes.

“L-let’s get back to work,” he says. You decide not to tease him further. The two of you finish the rest of the work in silence, and the bell rings, so you get up and head to History class.

A mousy girl is sitting in your seat next to Robin. You ask her to move, but she won’t budge. You already have detention today, so you decide not to push it and sit somewhere else. Robin looks at you sadly from across the room +Jealousy

You’re called up by Winter to demonstrate the pillory in front of the class, you hesitate to step up, but, remembering Leighton’s punishments, decide to risk it. Unfortunately, luck is not on your side, and Winter is called out while you’re still locked in the pillory.

“Who thinks the lesson should continue?” Says a slight boy. He gets up from his seat and begins to saunter over, but Robin stands up, too, and blocks his path forward.

“Stop,” he says, tone even and steady.

“Oh? And what’re you going to do about it?” The slight boy asks. Robin seems to falter for a moment, and the slight boy takes advantage, pushing past him and walking up behind you. You don’t see what happens next, but one moment Robin is in front of you, and the next, he’s gone. You hear a smacking noise behind you, and then a thud as if something had just hit the ground. The class looks incredulous. Winter walks back in.

“Assaulting another student? I expected better from you, Robin,” he says.

“Wait, I can explain–”

“Detention.”

The slight boy smacks your ass on the way back to his seat.

+Trauma +Stress

You go to swimming, but your earlier run-in with acid leaves you unable to participate, so you just sit by the pool in your swimsuit until class is over. When you get back, you notice your underwear is missing. You put your clothes on over your swimsuit. It looks a little funny from the front, but it’s better than nothing.

Actually, you might start doing this more often. A swimsuit is tight and harder to get off, no one can unclasp your bra, you don’t have to change, and it’ll actually cover your boobs, even with the shirt unbuttoned. This is a great idea, you think to yourself, feeling a little proud.

You start to walk to the front courtyard when your phone reminds you of your detention. Shit. You’d forgotten. At least Robin will be there with you?

Sighing, you head back inside.

“Keep writing, and don’t stop until I tell you to,” Leighton says. You glance at Robin, who’s working diligently. You decide to work hard, too. +Fatigue

Robin asks to walk home with you, but you tell him you’re going to the park instead. He waves you off, but there’s a glint in his eye that wasn’t there before. +Jealousy

You go to the park and meet Avery, asking for help gathering Lichen. You tell him about your school project, and he offers to take you out for drinks. You don’t really want to get involved with him, but you’re a little afraid of refusing him.

>Go for drinks +Facination +Dominance +Love? >Refuse -Love +Lust +Rage

None of those options look good, but you remember the guide saying that negative love leads to more dangerous encounters. You take his hand, and the two of you go out. The place he picked is cute, and the employees there seem to recognize him.

“Can I recommend you a drink?” He asks. “I think I know what you’ll like.”

>Buy Avery’s recommendation +Facination +Dominance +Stress >Pick your own drink +Love -Stress -Dominance -Fascination -Endearment

You pick your own drink and the two of you find a quiet corner to sit down in. +Love -Stress -Dominance -Fascination -Endearment

Your phone buzzes.

You’re on a date with Avery! How do you want to conduct yourself? >Act cute +Facination +Endearment >Act shy +Facination -Endearment >Act aloof --Endearment ++Lust >Be natural -Facination +???

You choose to act natural, hoping he’ll lose interest in you. You don’t voice any complaints, but you don’t bother to hide your discomfort, either. You fidget, you avoid eye-contact, and you don’t listen when he speaks to you.

-Fascination --Endearment +Love

When the date is over, Avery looks annoyed. He doesn’t say anything to you as he walks you to the exit, though his hand still rests on the small of your back.

You go to the manhole next. You don’t really want to, but you want that lichen. Luckily, you encounter no problems getting it. But that says nothing about what happens after.

You’re accosted by a giant lizard. If the game hadn’t told you what it was, you would have thought it was a crocodile based on its sheer size alone. It attacks you from behind, and you struggle to get it off your back. It claws at your clothing, leaving it worse for wear, but you’re able to roll over onto your back. The lizard is pinned underneath you now, but you still can’t reach it. You roll over and feel your shirt rip, exposing your back. You reach into your bag and pull out your pepper spray, aiming for the lizard’s eyes. It scurries away, leaving you panting in the sewers. You get a good workout.

You want to leave, but you still need that Lichen.

You crawl out of the sewers and head to the tailor, who offers to fix your clothes for £29.99. You accept and head to the office building, where you work as a temp for the next few hours, fighting through the exhaustion. You make £126.

You pass out on your way home and wake up in the hospital. Dr. Harper introduces himself and asks a few questions, but you leave out any details that could cause him to ask you to go to “therapy” with him. You’re discharged soon after, and Bailey picks you up.

“Don’t make me do this again,” he says.

When you get home, it’s already past midnight. You don’t bother putting on Pajamas, just stripping and hopping under the covers.

…

……

………

You should’ve worn clothes, you think to yourself as you feel Kylar’s breath on your face. He’s hard; you can feel the outline of his penis through the blanket. You try to steady your breathing, too embarrassed to open your eyes. He shifts on top of you, and then lifts your blanket from your body. You react without thinking, immediately sitting up in a panic. You just barely avoid colliding with him. Your eyes meet his, and he looks down, getting a fully unobstructed view of your breasts. He flushes deeply and scrambles away. ++Lust

After taking a moment to collect yourself, you stand up to close your window. You notice that it doesn’t have a lock.

You put on pajamas before going back to bed this time and wonder if you can find some way to board it up. You close your eyes, but rest never comes. You’re too on edge. You roll in bed for hours, never relaxing enough to fall back asleep. When you finally give up, it’s already 06:00. You remember your idea from earlier, and decide to wear your swimsuit under your uniform today.

It is the 7th of September, 2022. -It has been 3 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn. -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £454 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You are fatigued Stress: You are strained Trauma: You are uneasy Control: You are insecure Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

You decide to spend some time in the garden growing daisies. It’s relaxing. By the time you finish, your hands are covered in dirt, and it’s 07:30. You wash your hands and go to Robin’s room to play video games for the next half hour.

“This one’s a cooperative game,” he says. “It’s known for being really difficult.”

“How do I play?” You ask, taking the controller. Robin leans over, wrapping an arm behind your back and taking your hands in his as he guides your hands to the correct positioning, fingers lingering over yours for a moment longer than necessary. You feel his breath on your skin as he walks you through the controls, his head over your shoulder and his arms still wrapped around you. +Lust

The two of you play for a little bit. Neither of you are very good, but you have a good time regardless. -Stress -Trauma

You and Robin are about to walk to school together when a car pulls up beside you. You brace yourself for the worst, but the window rolls down to reveal Avery instead. “I thought I recognized you,” he says, smiling warmly. “How about I give you a lift?” He glances dismissively at Robin.”Your little friend can come along, too.” Robin looks at you, clearly nervous.

>Ride with Avery +Robin’s jealousy >Ride with Avery and Robin +??? >Walk with Robin -Love +Lust +Rage -Robin’s jealousy

You try to smile at Robin, but it comes out strained. You hop into the car with Avery. Robin reluctantly follows your lead. You try to act naturally, bringing Robin into the conversation whenever Avery ignores him. Robin seems happy you’re paying attention to him, but still extremely out of place. -Robin’s Jealousy +Robin’s love +Avery’s love -Avery’s Fascination

Avery leaves, and you head to the library. Sydney isn’t there, so you study by yourself until it’s time to go to Science. A group of students pass by you in the halls; they leer at you but don’t say anything.

Science, math, and English all pass by without incident, for once. You feel yourself begin to relax as you head to the canteen, only to jump when an arm wraps around your shoulders. You turn around. It’s Whitney.

“I’m hungry,” he says. “But I don’t want anything here. Come with us to get a snack.” Your sense of control wavers. Fearful of his intentions, you shove Whitney off of you and try to run, but he grabs your arm. Delinquents pull out their phones and circle around you. You lift the arm he’s holding and swing it to the side, using the created opportunity to elbow him with your unobstructed arm. He staggers and lets go of your arm, nearly falling but just barely managing to regain his balance. You rush to the least populated area of the circle and try to push past the delinquents, but they grab you and push you back in instead.

You reach for your pepper spray but notice your backpack has been taken from you. You glance behind you, and sure enough, a group of students are rifling around your things. You lunge for them, but they toss it to the students across from them, playing keep-away.

Whitney is glaring at you from the other side of the ring. He rushes you, and you fail to dodge. He pushes you to the ground, his friends scattering out of reach. You headbutt him on the way down, but he’s got your arms in a tight grip. You struggle against his hold, kicking and squirming under him. Whitney sits over you, straddling your waist and holding your arms in place beside your head. His face is inches from yours, and you can feel his heavy breath on your skin.

You try to bridge him, but he’s too heavy. You’re quickly losing strength, and Whitney can tell your struggles are becoming weaker. “Just give up,” he says. “Or I might have to do something worse.” Your sense of control weakens. He leans down over you, rubbing his penis against your stomach. You freeze, a sense of cold, numbing dread overtaking you as Whitney climbs off of you. He offers a hand to help you up, and you, briefly forgetting your situation, take it.

He pulls you up and into his arms with surprising strength, smirking at you as your noses brush. He releases your hand but still wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you from leaving.

“Can I have my bag back?” You ask, hopefully. Whitney looks over your shoulder at the people rifling through your things. One of them reaches for the side zipper you keep your pepper spray in, and you freeze.

“She’s got pepper spray!” The short boy exclaims.

“Holy shit,” a lithe girl says.

Whitney releases you from his grip on your waist but soon grabs your arm and forces it behind you. You move your left leg around his and plant it on the ground, then you twist yourself away from him until your arm is beside you again. You plant your other foot and lift your left, kicking him in the back of his knee. He falls, but you fall with him. He lets go when you land, and you roll over off of him, quickly standing. You kick him in the groin for good measure and then walk up to the delinquent, holding your backpack and pepper spray. You hold out your hand expectantly and hands it to you stiffly. +Status

You decide to skip lunch and go to the mall instead. You pick up a keychain with a latch and attach your pepper spray to it, hooking it onto your skirt’s belt loop. It took you a while to find the right kind of keychain, and by the time you’re back on campus, it’s already 13:06. +Deliquency

You quickly head into history class, where Winter takes note of your tardiness, and sit next to Robin. He notices your ruffled hair and asks if you’re okay. You smile at him as you take your seat, but he seems unconvinced. You spend the rest of History daydreaming.

When you get to your swimming lesson, you don’t even have to get naked. Your swimsuit is already under your uniform, so all you have to do is take them off. Your injury yesterday has healed well enough to allow you into the pool, too, so you get to improve your swimming grade. It isn’t until after the lesson is over, and you emerge from the pool, dripping wet, that you realize the fatal flaw with your underwear idea.

You have to put clothes on over your wet swimsuit.

Not seeing any other viable option, you put your clothes on over your wet swimsuit. The fabric clings to your body, but it does that anyway. You leave the changing room and head to detention, trying to ignore the stares of your peers as they gawk at your see-through shirt (they can’t even see anything through it, you aren’t sure what they’re staring at.).

Detention only takes ten minutes, so you’re still able to walk home with Robin. He doesn’t say anything, but you catch him taking peeks at your chest every so often. +Love +Lust +Stress

You go to the temple after changing and pick up some pink lichen for your science fair project.

You think about the last sample of lichen you need and wonder if a £500 prize is worth being molested by ghost tentacles. You wonder if £2,000 is worth being hunted with a vengeance every blood moon.

You do need the money…

———————

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starastrologyy · 4 months ago

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Venus in Partners houses!🖤

“Love is not just a feeling, but a deep connection that transforms us, making us feel seen, valued, and whole.”

Please do not repost anything that I write on other social media platforms!🤍 I only have a TikTok & a tumblr! I also created this post with romantic synastry in mind x

Venus in Partner’s 1st house

This is one of the best indications of physical attraction in synastry (this is especially true if the Venus individual’s Venus makes a conjunction to the house person’s Ascendant). The Ascendant person is the physical embodiment of everything that the Venus person finds attractive. Their connection is likely one that is filled with mutual admiration, physical affection, and appreciation. Furthermore, the pair are likely to enjoy each other’s company, and they are apt to express their love, admiration, and appreciation for each other with ease.

Venus in Partner’s 2nd house

Venus is very comfortable in the 2nd house, as it is a Venus ruled house. When someone’s Venus falls into your 2nd house, you may find that they impact your finances, values, & personal resources. Unless Venus is adversely aspected, the Venus person is likely going to want to spend money on you (vice versa). The 2nd house also deals with security, self-worth, possessions, & the things that we deem valuable. Thus, themes of possessiveness & control can arise if one or both partners lack a solid sense of security or self-worth. Ultimately this overlay contends that the relationship is likely to have a strong focus on shared values, stability, and material security.

Venus in Partner’s 3rd house

Although the 3rd house is not a traditionally ‘romantic house’. People who are highly mercurial or air dominant are likely to appreciate 3rd house synastry overlays. Venus in a partners 3rd house indicates that your romantic connection is a byproduct of a strong intellectual bond . Both partners are likely to feel a strong sense of affection & connection when learning together and engaging in stimulating conversations. The pair are also likely to connect through humor, lively banter, & a shared sense of curiosity. If you value words of affirmation in your romantic relationships, you are likely to enjoy 3rd house synastry.

Venus in Partner’s 4th house

When someone’s Venus falls into your 4th house, emotional support, comfort, protection, & trust are key themes in your connection. Furthermore, you are likely to connect over shared values involving matters related to home, family, & emotional foundations. You are also inclined to treat each other with kindness, empathy, and compassion. Hence, you may even begin to feel like ‘home’ to each other as time goes on. The house person in particular, will appreciate the Venus individuals reassurance, nurturing, and emotional support. Interestingly, this a synastry placement/overlay that you often see in the synastry charts of couples who eventually move in together & those who genuinely enjoy living together.

Venus in Partner’s 5th house

This is a very fun, romantic, & playful overlay. The pair are likely connect over creativity, mutual hobbies, or matters involving children. This is another overlay that can indicate that a strong physical attraction exists between two people. Hence, it’s not uncommon to have a child or children with someone you have 5H synastry with. Venus in the 5th house often gets a bad rep, given it’s lighthearted ‘fling’ energy. However, if there are Saturn aspects that are being made to Venus, this may in fact be a long term relationship where the attraction strengthens/remains consistent over time.

Venus in Partner’s 6th house

This overlay emphasizes routine, service, and health. If “Acts of service” are one of your primary love languages, you are likely to appreciate/enjoy this overlay. Moreover, the Venus person in particular is apt to want to find ways to show their love for the house person though practical, every day actions. Thus, they essentially want to make the house persons life easier. For example, they may offer to pick up their dry cleaning, or take them to run errands. Ultimately, this connection is based on dependability, practical support, and acts of service.

Venus in Partner’s 7th house

Venus is very comfortable in the 7th house, as it is the house that governs partnerships, marriage, and close relationships. Thus, when someone’s Venus falls into your 7th house, they express their love & values in a manner that is in alignment with how you would like your ideal partner to express their love & appreciation. This is an overlay that you often see in the synastry charts of committed partners or spouses (unless the Venus person’s Venus adversely aspects the house persons Uranus etc..). Nevertheless, Venus in the 7th house in synastry can assert that you and your partner are likely to adopt a very idealistic & tolerant view of the relationship & each other within this connection.

Venus in Partner’s 8th house

The sexual attraction is likely to be very high in this connection. Moreover, the chemistry between the pair can feel intense, sultry, and binding! This is by no means a lighthearted or superficial connection. The relationship is likely to be highly transformative & emotionally charged. Both people in this connection will be required to navigate complex dynamics of trust, vulnerability, and emotional depth. 8th house synastry can often feel intoxicating which makes it difficult to let go. Yet, it tests our psychological strength & encourages us to heal the parts of ourselves that we have repressed or neglected.

Venus in Partners 9th house

When someone’s Venus falls into your 9th house, (vice versa), they are likely to stimulate your desire for expansion & exploration. This is especially true where matters related to higher education, foreign travel, religion/spirituality, and philosophy are concerned. As a couple, you may travel a lot, or spend a significant amount of time exploring different cultures & belief systems. As the house person, you may even begin to idealize the Venus person & place them on a pedestal, as they are likely to be a source of inspiration and enlightenment. Both partners are apt to grow tremendously as people, within this connection.

Venus in Partner’s 10th house

This is a wonderful overlay to have if you and your partner plan to work together/do business together. In this connection, the 10th house person may enjoy being seen publicly with the Venus person, as the Venus person has the potential to enhance their public image. Whereas, the Venus person will want to offer their support & encouragement to the house person, when it comes to the pursuit of their ambitions & career objectives. Hence, mutual admiration, respect, and career support are apt to be present in this union. However, there can be times when one or both people may feel as if the other cares too much about their career/public perception & thus the connection can feel superficial at times, if there aren’t any other synastry aspects that indicate that a strong emotional, romantic or intellectual bond exists between the pair.

Venus in Partner’s 11th house

This overlay contends that the connection is likely to be founded on a strong basis of friendship. The pair are inclined to be very accepting of each other’s quirks & eccentricities. Furthermore, the Venus person is likely to introduce the house person to new networks and social contacts. This can also be a very supportive bond when it comes to their shared goals & aspirations. Ultimately, this is a union in which both individuals are apt to feel accepted and valued for who they truly are.

Venus in Partner’s 12th house

When someone’s Venus falls into your 12th house you may feel inexplicably drawn to them. In some instances, this may be a hidden connection or it may be a connection where feelings are not openly expressed for whatever reason. However, Venus in the 12th house can also be indicative of a connection where both partners love & support each other unconditionally. Yet, they can also become each other’s blind spots. Meaning, they may not always see each other very clearly. Hence, there’s likely to be a very idealistic & sometimes unrealistic quality to this relationship. Nevertheless, the love that this overlay produces can often feel destined, transcendent, & highly spiritual.

As usual, my chart readings are open, and the link is in the bio for those interested! :) x

#astrology tips #astrology #astrology tumblr #astronotes #astrology content #astrology observations #synastry #astro blog #astrology blog #astro thoughts

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nadvs · 1 year ago

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cam girl (part twelve) (end)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning alcohol use

summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Rafe realizes his hands are shaking as he rereads your text.

His eyes keep going over your words, standing up off his bed and pacing around his room just because the adrenaline won’t let him stay seated.

Why the fuck are you doing this to him?

i’m done. this is over. i’m not even a fucking person to you am i

Hot anger bubbles inside his chest. He immediately texts you back: what the fuck do you mean

Minutes pass. You don’t answer.

Rafe: ?????

Again. No answer.

Rafe: dont ignore me

He can’t take it anymore. He taps on the Call button. It rings and rings and rings. He texts you again.

Rafe: answer me

Finally, you respond: i dont need to listen to you. leave me alone

This has to be a cruel joke. Yet again, you’re cold to him out of fucking nowhere, after he thought you had a good time together.

Rafe recalls this morning, to the worried look on your face when you saw his black eye, making him think that maybe you see something of value past the wall he built around him.

He risked his pride by telling you that he always thinks about you, and now you’re done with him?

He texts you again: why are u acting like this

Thank fuck you respond.

You: i guess the slut got bored of you first

His body goes cold. He knows you’re referring to what one of his friends said. You heard that?

If that’s why you’re so pissed off, he needs to talk to you about it in person. He grabs his car keys and rushes out of the house.

Rafe is pounding on your door for so long that his hand is starting to hurt almost as much as it did when he threw those punches last night.

He feels himself teetering on the edge, getting close to the manic state he knows and hates.

He pulls his phone out to text you: open the door

You: ??? i’m not home

At this point, he sees red. He could break his damn phone if he didn’t need it right now. He calls you again, his jaw clenched so tight that it hurts.

His stomach tightens when the dial tone stops after two rings.

“Am I gonna have to block your number?” you say when you answer. The sound of a crowd and loud music buzzes in the background. He clues in that you’re at a party.

“Where are you?” he asks, head hanging, staring at the hallway floor.

“That’s none of your business.” He can hear a slur in your words.

“Are you drunk?”

“I can drink if I want to. I know you love to think you own me, but you don’t.”

Rafe swallows hard, shaking his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He heard your voice shake. Fuck. You’re crying and it’s his fault.

“Where are you?” Rafe repeats. “Let’s - we need to…” He’s stammering, anxious and unbalanced. “We need to talk… I swear, I’ll fucking wait here until you come home if you don’t tell me where you are.”

Your back is against a wall, the phone pressed to your ear. The room is loud and humid from all the bodies crammed together into one house.

You hate that you’re crying over him and you hate that he can hear it. As if his ego needs the boost.

“Why?” you finally ask, voice strained, hoping he’ll tell you what you want to hear. That there’s a part of him that cares about you.

Rafe is silent for a moment.

“Which one is it?” His chest is tight. He can’t say it now. Not over the phone.

“Neither,” you reply, then hang up. You know he’s just horny and possessive and mad. And definitely bluffing.

You shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t, but you take another shot. Time melts away from you as you get lost in the music with your friend, determined to get Rafe and his drama off of your mind.

It’s half past one in the morning when you order a cab. The alcohol has almost worn off at this point. Someone spilled a drink on you and you just want to take a shower and sleep. You have to promise yourself that you won’t give into the impulse to wear Rafe’s shirt to bed.

You exit the elevator and your heart stops when you see Rafe sitting on the floor, his back against your door, his knee raised, his head slumped.

He meant it. He waited. For over three fucking hours.

When you get close enough for him to hear your footsteps, Rafe clambers up to stand, towering over you. His eyes sweep over your face, the blue in them even more prominent in contrast to the dark bruise over his right eye.

Even though your heart, the traitor, is thumping with desire, the ache of what he did to you is louder. It was barbaric, what he said about you. What he let his friend say about you.

“Why are you still here?” you say as evenly as you can.

“You can’t…” Rafe shakes his head, frustrated. He immediately notices you’re not wearing the necklace he gave you and his chest aches. “You can’t end this.”

“Watch me,” you say with a scoff, nudging past him. You feel him behind you, hear his shallow breaths. You unlock your door and pull out your keys.

He won’t move. You turn to look at him again, feeling your lips thin in aggravation.

“Rafe,” you state. “Please. I just want to shower and sleep. Go home.”

“No,” he says stubbornly.

“Why can’t you just go find another girl to fuck around with?” you say, raising your tone.

He almost feels nauseous hearing you say that.

“Are you worried you won’t find one who does everything like I do?” you ask. “I just can’t say no, right? That’s what you told your friends.”

Rafe looks down in shame, nostrils flaring. His lips screw up in anger. He has no words to offer.

“Go home,” you repeat. You’re sure he’s just upset about losing his favorite booty call, just so not accustomed to not getting what he wants.

Rafe doesn’t budge. You’re sober enough to know you can’t continue this conversation in the hallway and risk your voices carrying into your neighbors’ homes.

Frustrated and embittered, you turn your doorknob and accept the fact that he’s not leaving without a fight.

You turn on the dim overhead light and stand in your tiny kitchen, facing Rafe with your arms crossed, as the door shuts behind him.

He steps towards you, hands sliding up your arms before he leans down to try to kiss you.

“Stop,” you mutter, shoving him off, pushing him away.

He tries again, putting his palms on your cheeks.

“No,” you snap, driving him away harder.

Rafe feels hollow. Lost. He’s fine with showing anger. It’s second nature to him. But this? This tangled feeling of yearning feels impossible to verbally express to you.

“Why?” is all he can sputter.

“I’m not letting you use me anymore,” you say through gritted teeth.

Rafe had no idea you’d react like this over the moronic shit he and his friend said. He thought you were fine with how things were. That you were detached.

Despite the rage and anxiety consuming him, the fact that you’re this angry over this ridiculous idea that you’re not a person to him, that you maybe want to be more, makes hope bloom in his heart.

“It’s not like that,” Rafe says.

“It is,” you argue. “I’m done acting like I’m okay with it. I could handle it at the beginning, but…”

You sigh. You can’t give him the satisfaction of telling him you have feelings for him. You start to get choked up again, though, your body betraying you. You can’t hide what he does to you from him anymore.

“I’m done,” you say resolutely. This man is nothing but trouble. “My contact picture in your phone is a fucking nude. I’m just body parts to you and I respect myself too much to keep this going. Just leave. You won’t change my mind.”

“I can’t… I can’t not see you anymore,” he grovels.

“You’re just mad you won’t be able to brag to your buddies about what I let you do to me.”

“No.” Rafe brings the heels of his hands up to his eyes, looking so damn flustered. “I’m not mad about that. I… Fuck, it’s…”

“What about when he called me a slut to run through? You laughed. After he said something so fucking horrible about me-”

“Wait,” he snaps, tone rising. “Just wait. Let me talk.”

“Then talk,” you say sharply, shocked by his audacity to be the angry one here.

He takes a deep breath.

“When he called you that, I…” Rafe rakes his hand through his hair. “It’s how we always talk and I - I know that’s a shitty excuse, but I didn’t have the balls to tell him to shut the fuck up. And then last night…”

He vaguely gestures to his black eye. His mind replays the rage he felt when he heard the vulgar words used to describe you. The way his fist met his friend’s jaw. Rafe walked away with a swollen eye, but it was nothing compared to what he had inflicted.

“He said something about you and I beat the shit out of him like I should’ve the first time.”

“What’d he say?” you ask after a beat.

“It doesn’t matter.”

So, that’s what happened to him last night. You’re almost touched to hear he defended your honor, but the memory of the text you saw on his phone darkens your mood instantly, reminding you of how dispensable and cheap it made you feel.

“This the same friend who texted you about all the bitches at that party?” you say bitterly.

Rafe meets your gaze.

“You saw that?”

“Yeah,” you say. Rafe realizes that was the reason for your abrupt coldness. You were jealous. He hates that he hurt you, but admittedly, the feeling of you being envious over him is so fucking gratifying.

He sighs your name. He didn’t even glance at another girl last night. Why would he? “For fuck’s sake, I texted you all night. I told you I’m always thinking about you.”

“Rafe, you texted me about how all you want to do is hook up with me.”

“That’s not… that’s not all I want,” he sighs, defeated. How can he explain that the way he touches you is how he tells you what he’s feeling? He’s so fucking bad at talking about it.

“Then why did you talk about me like that?” you ask.

“I was…” Rafe begins. He swallows hard, his eyes refusing to meet yours now. “I know I shouldn’t have said that shit but-”

“You’re only saying this now ‘cause you got caught.”

“No, it’s - it’s more than that. I-”

“You were just being honest,” you say with a shrug. “I did everything you told me to and you wanted to brag.”

“Yeah- I mean, no…” he stammers. Your use of the past-tense is so damn hurtful, the implication that you really are through with him, and before he can think to hide it, tears start to gloss his eyes. “Just listen-”

“If I’m just an easy fuck to you, then that’s fine, just own up to it.”

“Let me talk!” he finally shouts. Rafe’s head is spinning. He’s angry and anxious and close to losing his mind.

You don’t even cower, not letting him get to you. But when you realize he’s crying, too, your blood runs cold.

“Goddamn it.” He frantically brings his hands up to his head, fingers on his temples. “I’m trying to tell you that I didn’t know how to- I don’t know how to talk about this fucking feeling you give me.”

“Try,” you say.

Rafe’s breath is shaky, blinking fast as he gazes at you.

“This is more than sex. I’m fucking… I’m falling for you,” he finally admits.

No words come to your mind. The air between you is thick. Your heart is pounding in your ears. Your stomach is numb.

Rafe lowers his gaze, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He’s worked himself up in such a panic.

He doesn’t know how or when you cracked into this side of him that he didn’t even know existed, but you did. And you’re not leaving.

“Are you serious?” you ask quietly through a shallow exhale.

“Do I need to beg you to believe me?” he says.

“Yeah,” you say with a sarcastic huff, pushing him to see where his limit is. To see if he’s being honest.

You can’t believe what you’re seeing when Rafe sinks down onto the floor in front of you, his knees on your cheap linoleum. He takes your hand in his, pulling it to his warm mouth, soft lips kissing your palm.

He realizes he would rather lose all of his pride than lose you.

“Rafe,” you say, the edge to your tone completely gone now.

The shift in your dynamic is harrowing. He’s always the one in control, the one with the upper hand. Now he’s on his fucking knees for you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “I’m so fucking sorry I said that shit. I’ll never do it again. You’re not just an easy…”

He can’t even say it.

“You’re so much more,” he says. There’s hopelessness in his gaze. You’re rattled with shock, your heart feeling like it’s burning in your chest.

You can’t believe it. You can’t fathom that he likes you more than just from the waist down.

“What if I stopped hooking up with you?” you challenge. “I keep seeing you but it’s nothing physical. What then?“

“That’s okay,” he says, without hesitation.

“I mean no sex,” you say. “At all.”

“Fine.”

You pout at him in endearment as relief pools through you.

Rafe is racked with the deepest form of desperation. He can’t picture a day without you. Without your smile, your humor, your voice, your smell. He fell off the deep end and there’s no fucking saving him.

Your stare is puncturing him. He’s sure he fucked up too massively to earn any sort of chance with you ever again.

But when you finally lean down to press your lips onto his, euphoria rushes through his entire being. He frantically scrambles to stand, feeling his face contort with disbelief and gratefulness and a yearning so hard that it hurts.

Rafe’s kisses are deep but fast, his big hands cradling your head, thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones.

You pull back, looking up at him with a tiny shred of remaining suspicion that he’s not being genuine.

“Let me stay the night,” he says, voice low, lids heavy. You’re unsure that he really means he’d be with you even without the sex.

You only look at him.

“I won’t try anything,” he adds. He knows you needed the reassurance. You stare at him with wide, vulnerable eyes, resting your hands on his firm, heaving chest.

“Shower with me,” you tell him, restless to wash the night off of you. “And prove it.”

Rafe nods, your face still in his hands. Fuck, he feels like you have him wrapped around your finger. He’d do anything to keep you in his life.

“Let me do the work,” he says.

You step back, heart racing, and raise your hands over your head. His fingers quickly find the edge of your top, slowly lifting it and pulling it off of you. Your jeans are next, the denim sliding down your legs.

Rafe presses against you, leading you backwards into your bathroom. His lips press against your forehead as he unhooks your bra and lets it fall to the floor.

He’s on his knees again as he peels your underwear off. You watch his eyes trail up your bare body. He can’t hide the lust in his stare, no matter how hard he tries.

As you turn on the shower, you hear the rustle of him taking his clothes off. When you step into the tub, you feel his body against your back. Big hands skim up your arms as you turn the faucet, prompting hot water to rain down on both of you.

Rafe can’t stop himself from asking.

“Did you talk to any guys at that party?” His voice echoes against the porcelain, loud even over the sound of the shower.

You smile to yourself.

“How am I gonna focus on another guy when you’re texting me so damn much?”

“Princess,” he huffs. You laugh and turn in his arms to rest your hands on his shoulders.

“No,” you tell him. “I didn’t want to.”

Rafe smirks and leans down, but stops an inch away from your lips.

“Am I allowed to kiss you?” he asks.

“Hmm… fine,” you tease. “But that’s the farthest you can go.” He captures your lips in his, his mouth warm. You feel him grow against you and you pull away to look down, his cock already almost fully hard.

“Okay, I can’t control that,” he says. You meet his eyes and share the first laugh that you’ve had together tonight.

You pick up your body wash and hand it to him. It’ll drive him crazy to touch you like this and not be able to do anything about it.

“You get my body,” you say, admittedly excited to tempt him. “And I’ll do my hair.”

Rafe’s forehead crinkles in concentration as he squeezes the body wash into his palm. Your eyes are on him as he lathers the gel over your shoulders first.

“You’re cute when you’re focused,” you giggle, starting to massage your shampoo into your hair.

The sound of your laugh, the aroma in the air is so fucking nice to him. It’s so you.

His palms move up and down your arms in gentle circles. Rafe’s groin is getting tighter by the second and the fact that he won’t get any relief for it is agony. But he needs to prove himself to you.

“You ignoring my tits on purpose?” you ask.

Rafe cocks his head in mild irritation. Touching you there will only make him harder. You exhale in pleasure once his hands rest on your breasts, gently kneading.

“You can’t make those sounds,” he says, voice strained.

“I can do whatever I want,” you reply. His hands dip below the curves of your tits. You purposely moan louder than you normally would just to torment him.

His jaw tightens as he collects more of your body wash to smooth down your stomach. His hands slide over your hips, the water and soap making your skin extra slippery, and he lands on your ass.

“Massage me a bit there,” you tell him. He huffs an aggravated chuckle, then starts to rub into your flesh.

The crook of Rafe’s neck is at your chin as he leans to massage you and you plant a gentle kiss on his wet skin. The gesture makes his stomach twist with adoration.

“Okay, that’s enough,” he mumbles, running his hands up your back. You can feel him against your leg; he’s fully erect and pining for you to touch him.

“My ass is still sore,” you groan, continuing to lather the shampoo onto your hair. “You were so rough on me in front the mirror, remember?”

The memory of fucking you on the floor in his room makes his arousal skyrocket even higher. He exhales and smooths his hands over your ass again.

You tilt your head to the side as you moan. You feel Rafe’s mouth press against your exposed neck, then he grunts against your skin and moves away abruptly.

“Getting frustrated?” you whisper.

“No,” he lies.

The hot water continues to ebb down your body as Rafe squeezes your ass.

“You can get my legs now,” you mumble. He’s half-relieved, half-frustrated to have to move his hands.

Rafe rubs in circles over your thighs, his breath heavy.

“Get on your knees so you can reach everything,” you say as you wash out the shampoo from your hair. You’re testing him, ordering him around like he usually does to you, seeing if he’ll crack.

When he kneels down, you hike your leg up onto the tub, your middle inches away from his face.

“Fuck,” he breathes, wishing he could just taste you. His hands are sliding down your calves as he gawks at the beauty between your legs, knowing you’re purposely tempting him.

His eyes trail up to your face. He looks ravenous for you.

Falling for you. He said he was falling for you.

“What?” you say with a smile. Rafe only shakes his head, continuing to run his hands over your legs.

“I said kissing is allowed,” you say, revelling in this feeling of control over him.

He doesn’t waste a second. His lips are against your pussy immediately, kissing you over and over. If you tried to keep count of how many kisses he was planting on you, you’d fail in seconds.

Arousal twists deep inside you, wanting him so badly, but loving the game you’re playing.

His lips wrap around your clit and he starts to suck, prompting you push your fingers through his hair, damp from the shower, and tug to pull him off of you.

“Kisses only,” you say. “Unless you didn’t mean what you said?”

“I did,” he huffs. He roughly shoves your wrist away to get close to you again, lips puckered. You feel his fingers ghost over your inner thighs, then pull apart your lips.

“Can I spread you open, baby?” he asks.

“No,” you respond.

“Please,” he begs.

“Kisses. Only.”

He groans. You laugh.

“You got me so turned on,” you moan. “I need to just…”

You slip your fingers between his mouth and your clit, denying him any more access.

Rafe thinks this could be thing to that finally makes him lose his fucking mind. But he stays still, knees aching from the hard tub, as you play with yourself right in front of him.

“That feels so nice,” you whisper, your knees weak. You put your other hand against the shower wall, looking down at him.

“Hold me up,” you order. He grips your hips and watches you moan and writhe over him, dipping your head back.

You dip a finger inside of you, tightening and sighing.

“Fuck.” He literally whimpers the word.

“God, there’s so many things I can think about while I touch myself,” you moan. “Like when we fucked in your car? Or when I squirted on you?”

“Which time?” he mutters, trying to have any sort of power right now by reminding you of what he can do to you.

“Aw,” you coo. “Is this like when I’m on camera? You can watch but you can’t touch me?”

“Shit,” Rafe breathes. You moan, the water dripping off of you.

He has to look away at this point. His cock is so hard that it hurts. His eyes go low, seeing a bead of precum on his swollen tip. He tries to comfort himself by thinking about how he can jerk off later.

“Get up,” you say. He brings himself up on his feet, towering over you again.

You turn your back to him again and start to rub your scalp to make sure you washed all the shampoo out.

“You’re probably cold on that side, hmm?” you ask.

Rafe’s temperature is the least of his concerns.

“I’ll keep you warm,” you tell him, looking over your shoulder. You run your hands down your body and pause over your ass, spreading yourself open.

“Put your cock right here,” you tell him.

“I- I can’t,” he moans.

“You can,” you encourage.

He kneels to place himself right where you want him. You let go, your asscheeks hugging him, feeling his length pressed up against you.

“Fuck,” he whispers, twitching against you. “This is… fuck…”

“If you didn’t mean that you can be with me without the sex, just say so.”

“I meant it,” he says. “But this is torture. I need to go. I’ll wait for you in your room, okay?”

“You can’t keep it together for me?” you tease. “I thought you liked me.”

“I fucking love you,” Rafe groans, making your heart flutter.

You’re done playing this game. You need him now.

You turn to face him, pulling him down with your hands cupping his neck to kiss him. He’s biting your bottom lip, kissing you hard.

“We don’t have to do this,” he whispers breathlessly.

“I want to,” you say against his lips, wrapping your hand around his cock. “What do you want?” He bucks up against you, groaning.

“I wanna fuck you,” he pleads.

“Then fuck me.”

Rafe’s rough and fast as he hitches your leg up, pushing you to lean against the shower wall. He lines himself up at your cunt, stretching you so much nicer than your fingers ever could.

He keeps his eyes on you when he thrusts into you, his expression both needy and satisfied.

“Thank you,” he whispers. The feeling of him thanking you for letting him be inside you hits you like a drug.

Rafe is in heaven. You squeeze him so fucking good as he rocks in and out of you. He needs to make you cum before he does. You deserve it. You deserve all the pleasure in the world.

When he starts to rub his thumb over your clit, you’re trembling with bliss. Everything in this moment feels so damn good.

“You’re my girl,” he mumbles, his usual possessive side back now. “Say it.”

“I’m your girl,” you respond. “Fuck… I love you.”

Rafe is sure he has never felt happier in his life. His thrusts get harder and faster, and with the pressure on your clit and the hot water coating your body, you whine through your orgasm.

To him, it’s a gift watching you reach your peak. You clench around him in rhythmic flutters and he can’t hold back anymore, his cum gushing out of him so fucking hard that he sees stars.

This is the best sex he’s ever had. Because now he knows it’s more than just something physical for both of you.

He kisses you hard as his body trembles, pumping into you. His forehead is against yours as you pant together and even though he’s exhausted, he stays inside you as long as he can manage.

When he pulls out, he brings his hands to your cheeks and kisses you again.

“You meant that?” he asks. He needs to know you that really do love him. That it wasn’t a heat of the moment thing. You look up at him, his lips parted, the water dripping down his face.

“Yes,” you say. His dimples are deep in his cheeks as he smiles at you.

As Rafe helps you clean up, he’s pissed at himself that he never did this before. He hates that you had to always do this alone. He won’t ever let that happen again.

Once you’re both lying in your bed, your bedroom dark save for a streetlamp casting a dull light through the window, Rafe holds you tight.

Your cheek is against his shoulder as he surrounds you in his arms. You both remained naked and the feeling of your bare bodies pressed together like this is perfection.

You softly trace your finger over the bruise covering his eye. The one his friend left on him because of something he said about you.

“What’d he say?” you ask.

“I’m not repeating it,” Rafe replies.

“Please?” you ask. “I wanna know what made you go crazy.”

“He said I seem happier lately,” Rafe says. “And before I told him it was because I wanna… be with you for real, he said… he wants to see if he could get…”

“God,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. He doesn’t have to say any more. His buddy wanted a turn with you.

“But hey, I’m not gonna let anyone say anything like that about you, okay?” he promises. “I’ll beat the shit out of anyone who tries to.”

You picture being out in public with Rafe, his arm around you. And you can’t help but ask. You need to know.

“So… are you gonna… want me around your friends and stuff?” you ask.

“Of course,” he tells you, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re my girl, right?”

It’s jarring. You’re not a lower-class maid to him. Not his personal whore. Not his slutty sugar baby. You’re a woman he loves.

Legs tangled, you fall asleep together, and you adore that the worry of falling for him is now gone. Because you’re in love, and so is he, and now you can enjoy him without telling yourself you can’t.

When you wake up the next morning, you shuffle in your position to find him, but you’re alone.

Your heart drops. Could he have been faking…?

You can’t jump to that conclusion. You’re about to check your phone when you hear crinkling coming from the kitchen.

You put on underwear and the shirt you stole from him a while ago before padding into the kitchen. He’s standing over your table, removing containers from bags.

You realize it’s from your favorite nearby bistro. He ordered food for you.

“Breakfast?” you ask. Rafe looks up at you and he doesn’t understand how every time he sees you, you strike him with how adorable you are.

“You hungry?” he says.

You settle across from him at the table. You realize he must have referenced the screenshot you sent him after the first night that he stayed over, when he sent you money to order breakfast and you sent him proof of what you bought.

As you dig into your food, you gaze at him. Blue eyes meet yours. He smirks. It doesn’t feel real. He used to look so out of place in your apartment, but this feels so natural.

“We gonna talk about how much of a cuddler you are?” you tease.

“Shut up,” he laughs. “Eat your food.”

You laugh and continue to chew.

“What do you have to do today?” he asks.

“I should study,” you say. “I was going to last night after work, but you know…”

Rafe looks down and his Adam’s apple bobs with his hard swallow.

“Are you gonna keep working?” he asks. “I don’t want you to. I wanna take care of you.”

As much as he loves seeing you around his house twice a week, he’s been getting more and more uncomfortable with the idea of you having to work so hard, having to clean up after him.

“Yeah,” you finally say. “I think I need to have the independence. To know I’m working for my own money. Does that make sense?”

“With your attitude? Yeah,” he says. You laugh.

You hope the gossip between your coworkers doesn’t get any farther up the chain. For now, you want to keep your job and the steadiness it promises.

“You can’t pull me away from my work to hook up whenever you want, though, okay?” you say.

“Even when I find you in my bed?” he asks.

“That was one time,” you scoff.

Rafe leans over to place his phone in front of you. He has your contact info up. The photo isn’t what it was before, though. It’s a photo of you sleeping, cheek pressed on his chest.

He must have taken it this morning. He wants to prove you’re not just a body to him.

Your eyes study his screen and you smile, oblivious to the fact that he’s staring at you.

But then again, you never really noticed how much he looked at you whenever you came to work at the house.

He can still remember the rush he felt when he randomly found you on that damn website. You were a fucking fantasy to him, a dream that he never thought he’d get to live out.

But here you are and by some crazy stroke of luck, you found something in him worth loving.

Rafe always enjoyed having some sort of ownership over you, claiming you as his. Because deep down, he always kind of knew he belonged to you. Whether you want him or not, he’s yours.

(the end) (continuation blurbs)

author’s note: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT FOR THIS SERIES 💘 it’s so bittersweet ending it. i had so much fun writing this and it’s because of your comments and messages 😭 i’ll be writing more fics! if you want updates, please follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications since i’ll be reblogging my work there. love you all!!!

#BRACE YOURSELVES THIS POST IS LONGGG #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #obx smut #rafe x you #rafe fanfic #rafe fanfiction #rafe smut #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron and y/n #rafe cameron and reader

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dreamdrbbles · 6 months ago

Text

so here’s my first drabble! interpreted from a very fun dream i had. it’s definitely a fantasy, so if you don’t mind suspended reality a little bit with me.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’ve finally convinced yourself to go back to school and get your degree, you’re late to your first class and your professor doesn’t take too kindly to tardiness. or, does he?

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: aaron pierre as dr. pierre & the black!fem reader as you.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: heavy smut, power imbalance, daddy kink, crude language, a bunch of grown folks things. minors do not interact.

Going back to school was your greatest accomplishment to date. At thirty, it wasn’t easy to take the leap and register for classes. You were terrified of being seen as the old freshman, but your dreams held more weight than your ego. You were proud of the life you’d built, sacrificing your own education to work and save so your younger brother could have the college experience he deserved. At just eighteen, you stepped up for your family, getting a full-time job to help fund his education. Now, ten years later, your baby brother was well on his way to earning a master’s degree. It was finally time to center yourself for once.

“Shit!” you yelped, bolting upright in bed. Your alarm hadn’t gone off, and the panic was immediate. You were supposed to be up an hour ago, but now you were going to be late for your very first college class. The one everyone told you not to take because it was at 8 a.m. You’d brushed them off, thinking, I used to wake up earlier than that for work. I got this. Clearly, you didn’t. It was 7:15, and you had 45 minutes to pull yourself together and get to Magnolia A&M University, your local HBCU.

Luckily, you’d picked out your outfit the night before. You had work later at the country club, and tennis lessons were on the schedule. That meant your Nike tennis skirt and matching top would have to do. After a rushed shower, skincare routine, and throwing your hair into a curly pineapple, you grabbed your keys. It was a ten-minute drive to campus, but with your luck today, who knew if you’d make it on time?

Magnolia A&M wasn’t just a school; it was a deliberate choice. Your family had always valued community and Black excellence, so an HBCU was a no-brainer. Every time you stepped on campus, you wished you’d started right after high school. Now, at thirty, you felt too old for frat parties or the Battle of the Bands, but you still loved the sense of unity. The royal blue and orange school colors? You wore them with pride.

You sped to campus like you had a getaway driver’s license, thanking the ancestors you didn’t get a ticket. After finding the right building, you made it to the lecture hall only 15 minutes late. African-American History was your first class of the day—and your minor. It had been the first course you registered for, the one you were most excited about.

As you pushed open the lecture hall doors, all eyes turned toward you, including those of your professor. You couldn’t see him clearly from the back of the room, but his posture alone radiated disapproval. Your stomach sank as you scanned the rows of seats. Of course, the only open spot was smack dab in the front row. Middle seat.

You braced yourself for the walk of tardy shame. Muttering “excuse me” and “sorry” at least ten times, you maneuvered your thick frame between tables and chairs. The awkward ordeal felt like it dragged on forever, but finally, you slid into the empty seat, heart racing.

The professor’s voice was what caught your attention first—deep, rich, and laced with a smooth British accent. You froze mid-search in your bag for a notebook and pen. When your gaze finally lifted to meet his, you nearly forgot to breathe.

Goddamn.

The word echoed in your mind before you could stop it. Beautiful wasn’t a word you usually reserved for men, but no other word fit. His sharp, masculine features contrasted with a pair of thick lashes framing aquamarine eyes. His neat facial hair outlined full, pink lips, and you couldn’t stop your thighs from pressing together as a very salacious thought crept into your mind. one that started with his wet duo on your first set of lips, and ending on your second.

Focus, girl. Eyes off the man and on the syllabus.

You forced yourself to listen, trying to ignore the low hum of his voice that made your spine tingle. Curiosity bubbled up as you wondered what a man from London was doing teaching African-American Studies in Texas. Almost as if reading your mind, he began explaining.

He told the class how reading The Autobiography of Malcolm X in middle school ignited his fascination with race relations in the West. That fascination led him to pursue a bachelor’s, master’s, and doctorate in African-American Studies. The name “Dr. Aaron Pierre” on your schedule had conjured an image of an older, graying professor who had more experience than book knowledge. You weren’t expecting a thirty year old Adonis who looked like he belonged on the cover of GQ.

The class went on like normal, an introductory first day of school. The hour ticked by as you gawked at your professor’s arms in the fitted black polo shirt he wore. It wasn’t until everyone around you had gotten up that you realized class had been dismissed. You followed suit, only to have your name called out in that deep baritone. How had he remembered it? Your introduction was one of the first of at least seventy-five.

“Can I see you in my office? You missed the first few minutes of class, just want to make sure you’re up to speed.”

Your throat was suddenly rivalry for the Sahara desert, your stomach hollowed. You were about to get kicked out of your first college course, all because your stupid alarm didn’t sound. You followed him to his office in silence, he opened the heavy wooden door for you and you ambled inside. Once the door closed behind you, you turned on your heels with an explanation at the ready. Until you realized his eyes were scanning your frame.

“The outfit… it’s different.” His comment caught you off guard, making your brows knit together. Was he picking on you? You glanced down at your tennis skirt. It hugged your curves, sure, but it wasn’t like you’d rolled out of bed in pajamas.

“I work after class,” you explained, tone sharp but polite. “I’m a tennis instructor.” His eyebrows lifted slightly, a flicker of interest flashing across his face. “Tennis?” He asked as he walked past you, to the other side of the cherry wood desk.

“Yeah, tennis.” You straightened your back, meeting his gaze. You’d been playing since elementary school. Your parents always joked that you could’ve been the next Venus or Serena, but you were realistic. You weren’t that good, just good enough to teach seven and eight year olds the basics.

Dr. Pierre leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms. “Let me be clear. Lateness will not be tolerated in my class. I take my work very seriously, and I expect my students to do the same.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. He really expected a room full of teenagers and young adults to be on time for an 8 a.m. lecture? Cute, and delusional. “Dr. Pierre,” you said, softening your voice. “I apologize. My alarm didn’t go off, and I worked late last night. I promise, it won’t happen again.”

His gaze lingered on you, and then he said, with absolute confidence, “I know.”

Your head tilted slightly, trying to figure out what he meant. He didn’t know you. And he sure as hell wasn’t your daddy. “Uh, okay. Whatever that means,” you mumbled, more to yourself than to him.

He smiled—a slow, deliberate curve of his lips—and then, to your utter shock, said, “You’re beautiful.”

“Tha-thank you,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Dr. Pierre’s expression remained unreadable as he began to close the distance between you. Each deliberate step sent a jolt of electricity racing down your spine, rooting you to the spot. You couldn’t move, couldn’t think—completely stunned by his actions. By the time he was within arm’s reach, your breath was shaky, uneven. His hand reached out, wrapping gently but firmly around your wrist. The warmth of his touch sent a spark up your arm, and before you could process it, he pulled you closer.

Your chest brushed against his, and the faint, intoxicating scent of teakwood and cedar enveloped you. The combination was rich and grounding, but it wasn’t just the cologne—he smelled good. Too good.

He leaned down slowly, his aquamarine eyes locking onto yours, heavy with intent. You were hyperaware of everything in that moment; the way his grip lingered, the heat radiating from his body, and the way his lashes framed those impossible eyes. Your faces were so close now that your noses barely brushed. The faintest touch, but enough to make your heart race like you’d run a marathon.“Can I?” he murmured, his voice low and velvet-smooth, like a secret meant only for you. The words hung in the air, and without hesitation, you gave him what he needed, your consent.

The moment his lips met yours, the world seemed to fade away. His kiss was slow, deliberate, and impossibly soft. He moved with care, as though savoring every second, every touch. You felt your knees weaken, and for a fleeting moment, you feared you might melt into the floor right where you stood. The scent of him, the warmth of his lips, the way his hand slid down to cradle the small of your back—it was all-consuming. Time slowed, and the only thing that existed was him. When he pulled back, just enough to let your noses brush again, his eyes searched yours as if waiting for a sign. Your lips still tingled from his kiss, and your heart thundered in your chest.

“I-I’m going to be late for work.” You stumbled, he laughed, amusement of the irony coming from the depths of his diaphragm. “You didn’t give a fuck about being late to my class, am I not just as important? Hm?” He inquired, tilting your head up so that you were staring in those oceanic orbs. He subtly pushed you backwards until the bend of your knees collided with his desk. With ease, he picked you up and sat you on top of it. He kneeled down before you, as if your body was an altar he would pray to. “You smell so good.” He uttered as he leaned in and pressed his nose to the center of your now soaked panty, taking in your aroma. It was the sexiest thing that had ever happened to you.

“I can’t believe this…” You meant to keep that inside, but clearly your mind had other plans.

“Believe it.” He responded with a laugh. “I wanted you the moment I saw you walk in my class, baby.” Skillfully he pulled your panties off completely, opening the drawer next to him and dropping them in there as his own personal souvenir. He pushed your skirt up onto your body until it was damn near a belt, balling up the pleats in his hands as he devoured your center, lick by lick.

He feasted on you as if he would never be nourished again, sipping your waters as if they came from the finest of natural spring. hell, clearly they had. “Oh my fucking God!” You squeaked as his lips wrapped around your pulsating clit, giving it a sweet, sloppy french kiss. His middle and index finger grazing your drenched slit as he slipped both inside. his thick digits filled you up, causing your muscles to tighten around him. He grunted against your pussy, imagining how tightly you would grip his manhood.

“That’s not my name princess, I’m not God.” He was to you, in this moment. he had sucked your free will right out of your coochie. What was his fucking name? “What’s my name?” He inquired as if he was reading your mind once again. His fingers continued to please you, grazing his smooth tips against your ribbed g-spot. This nigga had a Ph.d in more than just some history. “Doctorrrrrrrrr….” You whined out, dragging out the profession as he pressed sweet kisses right above your gushing mound while you smothered his digits in your sweetness.

“Doctor….daddy!” You cried out, hoping that there was no one in the near vicinity that would’ve heard your outburst. Another laugh as he slowly slid his fingers out of you, now covered and dripping in your cum. “Doctor daddy..I like that.” He retorted before slipping his fingers into his mouth, cleaning you off of him one by one as you watched in awe. Stunned by his insistence of eye contact. Removing his fingers, he used the same two to beckon you to come close to him, once you sat up he leaned over you, his lips ghosting yours before he spat the mixture of your cum and his saliva into your mouth before engaging you in a messy lip lock.

The kiss was the distraction. You had completely missed the unbuckling of his belt, the sound of his zipper or him removing his hard inches out of his dress pants. Before you realized it, he pulled you to the edge of the desk and slipped inside of you. Your walls reacted before your brain could, gripping onto him for dear life. So surprised by the intrusion that it felt like you would push him out all together. Your breathing hitched, in a way to relax your body so that he could continue exploring the depths of you.

“Augh!” You groaned out as he worked the first few inches of himself in and out of your throbbing center. He pressed his lips to yours repeatedly, whispering for you to hush every now and again. “Be a good girl, take this dick…if you can be late to my class, surely you can handle dick.” He mumbled, his accent causing a chill to run up your spine. He was gentle, despite his rough approach. He fed you little by little until your pelvises collided and you were completely full of him. He laid you on the desk, hands on each side of your head, eyes connected as he began to stroke, deep and powerful. “Look at you, such a pretty girl. Wrapped around me like you love me.”

‘I DO.’ You wanted to scream. But instead melodic moans escaped your warm lips, words were inconveniently absent. You can tell your lack of verbal participation was bothering him just a bit, by the way the swing of his hips picked up with every new thrust. After a moment or two, he was fucking you relentlessly. His thick crown had found your spot and was no longer caressing it with care. He was beating your shit.

“Are you gonna’ be late again?” he asked, every syllable being drilled into your guts. Your stomach twisted and turned with each pump, but he peered down at you like he expected an answer, like your brain could comprehend what he was even saying.

You parted your lips to speak, but failed once again, a moan being the only verbalization you could produce. the strokes came to an abrupt stop, he pulled out of you without so much as a warning. “Wait!” you called out, desperately, holding your hands out like you could put him back in your damn self. he chuckled darkly. “You think you can ignore me and cum?”

You couldn’t realistically promise you’d never be late again, you didn’t control traffic, or flat tires, or bad hair days but you would’ve said anything to feel him again. “I’ll never be late again, Doctor. I promise. Just please…let me cum all over you.” You purred, making empty promises.

“I don’t believe you.” He added curtly, slapping the head of his massive erection against your clit, watching his pre-cum glaze your bulb. “But your pussy feels too good for me to argue.” He concluded as he entered you again, continuing his euphoric pillage of your body. The knots in your belly felt permanent, your toes curled as your legs wrapped around him. Your climax approaching with the volt of a thousand watts. His wood throbbed inside of you, pulsating with the same intensity. He was meeting you at your peak. “Fuck…” He grunted, proving your theory right. You draped your arms across his neck, leaning in and pressing your lips to his jawline, placing kisses until you reached his ear. “Cum with me, Dr. Pierre…I wanna feel you dripping out of me.” Your salacious words seemed to do the trick as both of you unraveled at the very same time.

You should’ve felt shame, or even disillusioned. But you felt nothing short of satisfied and empowered. Your legs were shaking and you were full of a strangers seed, but dammit was your first day of school memorable.

“8:00 AM, Wednesday. Don’t be late…” He spoke as he buckled his belt, looking up at you with those piercing orbs. “Oh, and that seat in front of me is now your assigned seat.” He added, prompting a laugh to fall from your lips.

“See you Wednesday, Dr. Pierre.” You concluded as you exited his office and back into the real world.

Fuck, you were late for work.

#aaron pierre smut #aaron pierre x black!reader #aaron pierre x black reader #black writers

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samcvrpenters · 6 months ago

Text

word count: 2.2k+

pairing: dark! commander! caitlyn kiramman x enforcer! fem! reader

summary: caitlyn’s anger morphs into an overwhelming possessiveness of one of the enforcers, who ends up being you, and she has already formed invisible chains around you to keep you all to herself

warnings: possessive! caitlyn, dark! caitlyn, stalking, murder, torture, she uses her position as commander against you a LOT, kidnapping

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what is caitlyn’s place in the cruel world if it’s not to fit in and reciprocate those key values of hurting people in order to get what she wants? in the long run, yes, it may be to help the distinguished upper city of piltover, but at the moment? it is only to reflect her superiority to the civilians and make the people of the undercity afraid of her.

she never would have had to resort to such methods if it wasn’t for jinx and her callous actions against caitlyn’s mother.

to say caitlyn wanted revenge would be the understatement of the century. she would want nothing more than to publicly torture the criminal and make her pay for the crimes she has committed and the damage against her family and health because she would deserve it.

caitlyn can already imagine it; the smug grin would be wiped off jinx’s face and perhaps she would have tears streaming down her face as she’d see her own guts pooling from her stomach. caitlyn would use knives. she’d use a blowtorch. maybe she would make her drink the strongest disinfectant that she could even dream of.

she’d make it her mission to use all of the piltover scientists in her acts— her acts against humanity— and she would find some extravagant ways to make jinx regret her crimes and beg for mercy.

she’d wear her commander’s cape with pride, yet she would know that her brain has already become twisted with the same darkness that plagued the worst of villains and she would slowly be turning into one of them. she’d be replacing herself.

she’s been so caught up in everything that she hasn’t even granted herself the merciful capability to have a break. have a rest.

she’s been training the armies. troops and troops of enforcers who are meant to be insanely proud to wear the emblem on their uniform but are instead only wearing it from their fear of being ripped apart in the same way caitlyn describes it in her mind.

within the thousands of people who wear the uniform, there’s you. you’re not high in the ranks of the enforcers, but you’re not low either.

she doesn’t know what it was about you. was it that she could train you to be even better when you’re already somewhere in the middle of the ranks? no. that doesn’t make sense— because then she would feel the same as she would do with the hundreds of enforcers who are of the same rank.

but she’s latched onto you like a mosquito to blood, a flea to a dog, a moth to a flame.

she wouldn’t necessarily call herself some lapdog who is running around and doing all of your chores and business. just because she’s attached to you (in her mind, no doubt), doesn’t mean that she’s going to be kind and do things for you.

what’s the point in that?

she’d be ruining her spectacular reputation and performance as the hardened commander who changed her ways because of the unfortunate death of a family member.

maybe she wants something to grasp onto; maybe that ended up being you because of your overwhelming sense of innocence. you’re not that innocent. you’re not pure. but in her eyes, you’re an angel. you’re the opposite to her. you could create such an outstanding dichotomy with her and it could drive both of you to want each other.

but it’s not want for her. it’s a need. ever since she laid eyes on you, her footsteps followed your footsteps. her breaths followed your breaths. her heart followed your heart because where you went, she went.

not like you know about it.

what’s the word for it? stalking? it’s a crime. a widely recognised crime in the city of piltover yet caitlyn has made an exception for herself because she’s the commander and she has the exception to every crime in the book.

her eyes remain on you at all times.

why are you in a bar? why are you drinking? are you so sorrowful that you’re unable to think of a better way to solve whatever problems is lying in that brain of yours? but the way you drink is so enticing and tantalising that all she wants to do is grab your face and kiss you. bite you. mark you.

a flick of the wrist and there goes the shot. a lift of your hand and there’s a glass of wine. and the tilt of your head and there is goes— down into your throat and into your body. a move of the hand and the glass is back on the counter.

she wants to take a picture of this moment. your lips are glistening with hints of the wine that had moved from the glass and the way you lick your lips. it’s like you’re trying to seduce her. it’s like you want her to come and corrupt you and your mind. she could teach you the most barbaric of things. but does she really want to ruin you?

the first time she talks to you is a strange event.

you’re sat doing work. your pen scratches against paper and her eyes are locked onto the path of the pen. your handwriting is incredible. maybe she should get you an office job. you’d be safer there, and she would be able to look at all the work you’ve done and stare at it intently.

you don’t even notice her at first, until she clears her throat and you wildly excuse yourself. you know what she’s like and you don’t want to be hurt. “oh— commander, i apologise— i didn’t notice you—“

are your apologies totally relevant? perhaps. she thinks it’s good to know that you do apologise for these things, because it means you’re not as tough as you think you are and she’ll be able to have a tighter hold on you when it comes to it.

but she’s meant to be cruel, so she ignores your apologetic comments and words and slams a pile of paperwork down onto your desk. “get this done by noon, officer. or i will be punishing you for incompetent behaviour.”

and she turns around and walks away.

she felt proud of herself then. she finally spoke to you. after following you and watching you in the bar. after following you home and watching you relax. after following you home and watching you in the shower, with water running down your soft skin and dripping off your body when you wrap the towel around yourself.

she keeps her eye on you when you fill out the paperwork. your writing is slightly different, because you’re filling it in more frantically and she can tell your hand aches because you occasionally take a break to shake your hand, as if shaking off the growing ache present in your muscles.

when you finally finish it off and dump it down onto her desk, you seem almost out of breath. she doesn’t mind. she’ll make you faster and better. she’ll improve your stamina.

“all pieces done.” you breathe out, your hands resting on the papers as you set it down on her desk. it’s in quite a neat pile— it’s not very messy, and most of the corners meet one another.

but she only glares up at you, making your muscles tense and your heart beat faster and faster against your rib cage. why is she glaring at you? she’ll do anything to be cruel. to make sure she can reinforce that you’re below her and that she controls you. because she does. she owns you.

“since when did i announce that officers are able to speak to their commander without being spoken to?” she would really find anything to criticise you, wouldn’t she? well, it wasn’t really a criticism. it was more just something she could scold you for. berate you for. but she sees you gulp nervously, and she lets out a sigh as she grabs the pile and pulls it closer to her. “i’ll let you off with a warning. next time, you won’t be so lucky.”

is she taking pity on you? yes. but you don’t know why, and honestly, she doesn’t know why either. is this because of her obsessive nature with you?

she wants to keep you with her at all times. is that so much to ask? maybe she can make you pay for what you did. she won’t be too harsh, though, she’ll just be able to keep an eye on you easier.

“stay with me for the rest of the day, officer.” does she not know your name? is that why she is addressing you as that? or does she just get off on the fact that she’s superior to you? “you will not be leaving my side for the rest of the day. do you understand me?”

“yes, commander.” it’s as if you want to listen to her. you want to stay by her side. maybe you don’t want more punishment or anything bad to happen to you because you’re just listening to her.

it’s her way of keeping you close to her. because she doesn’t want anyone else to be taking up any of your attention, does she?

she keeps you close to her for the rest of the day. she keeps her promise. she just loads more and more office work onto you with every hour that passes and she enjoys the expression on your face— the way your teeth tug at your lip as you concentrate and the way your hair sticks to your forehead slightly as you sweat.

she’s doing this to you. she’s making you look so beautiful and ethereal as she gives you more work. as she practically overworks you.

she lets you go around midnight. she doesn’t offer any sympathy for letting you leave so late in the night, and she tells you to come earlier in the morning. she really won’t let you catch a break now that she’s got those piercing blue eyes on you.

you’re back early in the morning, with your best friend, it seems. caitlyn doesn’t approach you yet, but she’s watching as you chat away to this figure that she doesn’t even recognise to be part of the enforcers. she doesn’t remember approving the identification of your supposed best friend.

and she makes a point of it.

she’s thought about cold blooded murder before, but she has never actually gone through with it. she’s thought about torture, especially with jinx, but she’s never done it to someone who doesn’t deserve it. yet, she can’t help herself because she believes that you belong to her and your best friend is holding you back and away from her.

she had approached your friend with the promise of arrest for treason. she knew it was wrong, because they never actually committed treason, but caitlyn was too far gone to even care about morals.

throwing them into stillwater, caitlyn had made sure that they paid for their actions, because soon enough, they were screaming and begging for mercy against caitlyn’s hands.

at first it was just slaps. then it was punches. then it was stab wounds. burn marks. it was constant pain after pain and eventually, they gave up and just let their limbs hang limp and blood run dry.

she’s not insane. she’s just keeping you to herself.

“clean this up.” caitlyn spoke with a harsh tone in her voice, and soon enough, the body was gone (courtesy of the prison guards), and her actions were hidden from society.

and then she goes back to watching you. she’s got her gun in hand and she doesn’t know what she’s actually doing at this point, because she won’t shoot you, but she can’t let you roam the streets if you’re going to have friends.

and you’re walking down the cobbled pavement— without a care in the world— as if you’re invincible.

but you’re not, and she needs to show you that.

her hands clench tightly around her rifle and she finally pulls herself from the shadows, blue eyes no longer disguised by the darkness of the buildings and she has revealed herself to you.

she’s stepped right out in front of you and you don’t know why she has.

“oh— uh, commander kiramman— can i help you in any way?” you’re so calm about it, like she hasn’t just jumped out in front of you. is this how you would react if it is was someone else? what if there was a criminal in front of you? would you just stand there and ask if you can help them?

anger overtakes her and the butt of her rifle finds itself at the side of your head, knocking you clean out onto the floor. she didn’t catch you, because it’s not like she’s a hopeless romantic.

there’s blood pouring from your skull but she knows you're alive because she can your chest moving. her hands grip onto your shoulders as she pulls you up against her, your head resting on her chest as she holds it there.

there’s blood on her fingers. but she doesn’t care. because she has you now. you’ll forever be in her grasp, and you’ll be happy. you’ll be safe. you’ll be hers. as you should be.

#arcane #arcane netflix #arcane oneshot #caitlyn arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane imagine #arcane x reader #arcane series #caitlyn kiramman x fem reader #caitlyn kiramman imagine #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn x reader #caitlyn kiramman x reader #yandere caitlyn #dark caitlyn #yandere caitlyn kiramman x reader #dark caitlyn kiramman x reader

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afloppedpage · 26 days ago

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How to win over them (Genshin Impact Characters x reader)

Pairings: Ifa, Cyno, Venti, Kinich x GN reader. Warnings: None, just a little bit fluff and frustration, frequently mention mental health (I’m sorry). Slightly OOC. A/N: This is my first time using this app and first actual writing post. English is not my first language and my writing is kinda rusty so I'm sorry for any mistakes I have in advanced. W/c: 3,309 words.

________________________________ Ifa

Winning over Ifa is a hard thing to do and it’s a long-time journey.

Requires you to be in his sight, work with him, or casually pay a visit often. A plus for you if you care about the Saurian and if possible, you can take care of them too – when Ifa is busy doing something else.

A major plus when Ifa sees the Saurian loves you, to the matter that they would rather cling to you than him. You would treat them kind, patience – even when they are in the fuss, you endure until the tantrum pass and you would teach them lessons.

If you are not really a patient person, you still can win over him if you are willing to try to help him with some of the work. Making him see that you are trying to be “A better version of yourself”, not the reason is to impress him. (Ifa will feel himself like a burden if you sacrifice yourself for such things you don’t like)

Stay strong, literally mentally strong. It just that you should have value of yourself in life, know how to take care of yourself (because he would be the person sometimes to fall into the swirl of overthinking so you could be the person that he admires). Not requires much, but: Take care of yourself, knowing when to SEEK help and LEND help if you can.

To win over Ifa, you need to win over Cacucu first. By setting a curiosity onto that bird, constantly giving compliments to Cacucu and even trying to steal him away from Ifa. Sometimes you can transform into a Saurian and talk to Cacucu, a real talk. You can chat with that bird so you can understand what he truly means, and you can get to hear his opinion too. As you and Cacucu are getting closer, even to the point that Ifa can’t help but curious what are you two talking about (He low-key gets jealous of Cacucu).

Literally takes his joke, keep calling him a bro, even better when you call him a "lil bro" because he is only 5. Ifa can then tease you back by giving you a nickname “Big bro”. Take that joke and tease him over and over, treating Ifa as a literal 5 years old, provoke him by giving him candy for doing a good job, or pat his head because he is a good boy (He wouldn’t mind though).

As soon as he notices himself staring at you for a long time with the slightly heated cheeks, he would slap himself, walking in the circle and mumbling nonsense, trying to deny himself. So, you need to wait for some time in a stage of denial, just keep a usual vibe and meet up with him, also with sometimes ‘unintentionally’ stay close to him, it would make him have a flip in the stomach.

His stage of denial is something, really, it is a super long journey for him. He used to swear to himself that he would never take anyone with him in a lifetime, so breaking that rule is truly a hard one. In this stage, do not meet him too often now on, he would start to doubt both himself and you that you are ‘playing’ his emotions, that you are the main reason for him to have a headache. You need to give him some space, some time for him to rethink his choice, he is not ready yet.

He is used to the life of saddening himself as he holds the Saurian back to their new home, bitterly thinks that it would be better for the Saurian to go and don’t stay with him. It also applies to your situation, he would deny your love, thinking that it would be better for you to go, and to pursue your dream. So, you do exact same what did Cacucu do to be adopted by Ifa. By “accidentally” make a situation that Ifa thinks he needs to take care of you. You need Ororon to be in your plan as you pretend that your live is so boring and sad because you don’t have a boyfriend and Ororon sees you crying. Ororon then goes to your most trusted person to help and reassure you – Ifa (Of course you wait for the right time when he is not busy). He would reassure you and then you can share your personal story to him, to the fact that he would feel so sorry for you and trigger his ‘sympathy’, you can spice thing up by leaning against him or hold his hand. His mind would be chaotic after that.

You can even drop a hint bomb like: “We would be a very great duo, you know that?” or “You know that a lot of people ship us recently, even a stranger would mistake it.” (Of course he would feel flustered, yet uncomfortable, maybe)

Actually, you need to confess how desperate you want to be with him, to hang out with him, and to follow him. Because he would never feel your genuine feelings towards him unless you shout directly to him. Slap him in the face, kicks him in the knee, then capture him with your hands and hug him dearly, saying that you truly love him. You know that at this time, he already fell for you, but he is still denying, so you gamble yourself, 1: He accepts, 2: He rejects, and your friendship will be gone. The decision will be his, you did and won’t show any force to him as you give him space after you slap him back to reality. It is likely that he accepts.

Cyno

He is rather easy to win over, just..endure his sense of humor.

Be a responsible person who takes care of their own and do what you should and have to do. Build him a sense of trust as you don’t go over any boundaries between him and you.

If possible, you can play Genius Invokation TCG with him and let him shine, let him be himself as he constantly flexes all his new creation in card comp, strategies. It would be a plus when you recognize his smart moves, his choice of cards, and give him a real true compliment.

If you don’t into Genius Invokation TCG, just pretend to “curious” about the game and tell him to explain the whole, if you understand, good – he would really contented; however if you don’t, it is okay because he understands that not everyone like the game, he would appreciate your efforts to try to play with him.

About his jokes, you can either be a person who is very interest in his jokes or be a person who sighs every time he slips out a joke. It is okay for you not like his joke, but don’t refuse him disrespectfully whenever he wants to tell you a brand-new joke (You are so important that he would tell you first).

Flirt to him, if you are that type of person. Or you can just simply drop a few lines to him, such as: “I like how you do it,” or “I have to admit that this one is funny," a small chance that he would be flutter and lose it.

Be unserious, be silly, be opposite than his vibe. Just initiate, take the action first. You can constantly run to him and push him from behind like a friend does, or you can pat his back and say: “Hello fella, what’s up? Wanna break a lunch with me?” Cyno’s character is quite quiet, so you can do the initiative talking and share whatever you encounter in a day, just to have a chat with him and you can ask how his day was, that would be a nice time for you two.

Please do ask him a lot of questions as if you are interested about him (you should). He is the person who always interrogate the others and demand judgement, but he rarely feels the feeling of being ask, of being cared – maybe. So, ask anything, from “What color do you like?”, “What fruit do you love to eat?” to “Why do you think you are granted your vision?”, “What do you think about the Akasha terminal?”, he would at the same time overwhelmed by your question and feel special as you care for his opinion.

At the same time, be prepared to answer all his questions too. He would express his interest in you through his questions, so please answer it long and if you are comfortable, share your stories (but please don’t be the person to answer all the time).

Do whatever to make him recognize your efforts, from listening to his jokes, playing Genius Invokation TCG with him, to spending time with him, do any camping activities, walking in the desert and be comfortable in the silence.

His strength is very stable, not only physically, but also mentally too, so seeing your efforts to catch up with him, or whenever you try to lend him some help, he would be thankful of it although he doesn’t need your help. (Act like a person who cares for him)

Wait for until he slowly acknowledges his feelings. Actually, he realizes your intentions in winning over him not long before he admits his feelings toward you (like how often you are being in his sight, spending time with him. He would notice your embarrassed features and the slightly ‘crush’ behavior), but he still keeps in touch just to see how cute you are trying to stay close to him, and he doesn’t mind your presence at all. In fact, he would wish you to go further and make bold choices, he would wish you to continue like this.

Venti

He is kind of difficult to winning over with and the chances are very low.

You might and can have the same hobbies, favorite things to do with him. It can be the ideology of living freedom, the love of poetry and the love of playing music. Having the commons are not truly guarantee that he would like you. So, another key factor is to be bold, to be ‘unintentionally’ meet him often and exchanges knowledges.

Start popping up in every performance, in every event that are hold in Mondstadt, he will always in every festival as he loves lively atmosphere – he loves the cheerful smile the citizens have, the contentment they have when they are having fun and hanging out with friends and family. You can try to find him and talk to him, telling the general atmosphere as you comment positively on it – as to tell him that you have the same interest with him.

Getting his attention by attending in every of his performances and give him a real cheer and applause after each performance. If you are into music, you can simply ask him how to play it after the show. You can tell that you admire his talent and be curious about him, but do not cross the line – or whenever he is uncomfortable about your questions. If you are not really into specific type of music, you can still be there and give him a genuine smile, an applause and a small gift which can be Mora, or even a bottle of wine (He is surprised when you know he loves wine).

If you are into poetry, you can ask him about the music lyrics, ask him to talk more about it as if you are demanding him to have a spoken essay about the lyrics. You can even tell him to review and hear your explanation about the lyrics, you can express your curiosity, the yearning for knowledge as if you are dying for the beauty of the poetry (You will soon be a good buddy of him). Even a plus when he can review your poetry too, he would very feel special to you and value the relationship. But if you are not into poetry, it’s okay, you can give him compliment about his voice too, he would be flustered because not a lot of person gives him that kind of compliment, just be genuine and truthful, it can be like: “Although I don’t understand, but I love your voice.”

If the compliments are too common for him, starting another way of reaching to him is possible. You can look around the corners or anywhere that is hidden from the festival (he wants to hide himself and watch the crowd from afar), you can spend some quiet time with him while offering wine, that’s a major plus for you. Just be chill, relax yourself, be comfortable within his presence and you can wait for him to begin the conversation.

The next thing to be is matching his vibe, be cheerful, somewhat childish and have some random shit ass moment, can be you two play in the puddle of water and see who splash the most, play snow and see who make the biggest snowman, ...

You don’t need to know his identity to get more deeply understand him, you can treat him as a fellow friend (crush). Just play prank on him, give him a bottle of vinegar instead a bottle of wine (when he tells you to purchase wine), threatening him with a melting cheese pancake whenever you feel like it and telling how delicious it is (He hates cheese). He would feel the urge to ‘revenge’ you soon after, and it’s a good sign that y’all relationship is going well.

Another thing is to share your traveling past experiences, your encounters, your dilemma when you have a hard time to explore in other nations. But don’t be plain, spice things up by telling the challenges you have, he would be so hooked up by it.

Venti would never know and understand all your actions came from your love, so please give him some hints and implies. By telling him to write a poem about love, telling him to speak his opinion about love, and unintentionally give him some affections, like physical. You can ask him if you can lean against him and rest after a stressful day to calm yourself, with the comfortable presence of him. Or even you can slip off “I like you.” Surely, he won’t think that much, but as long as you tell out loud, he would consider it. He would consider you...

Kinich

He is kind of difficult to win over with

First up, don’t cling to him too much. Because he has own work to do and sometimes it takes a few days straight and you can’t even see or meet him. So, whenever he is back from his commission; if possible, you meet him and pay him a visit, ask how his mission went, and don’t take too long to chat – his social battery is not much after the exhaustion of work and talking to the client.

You can often give him commission and give a fair price: Mora, fruits, equippments,... (That’s an easy way for you to see him often). Treat him as a fellow helper, with prices of course. You can maintain this for sometimes and then you can be friends with him.

Also, participate in helping and volunteer in Natlan. He would truly appreciate your contribution to his home nation, and he would consider you a friend. You can make a big contribution in Natlan, like help fighting the Abyss with your other fellows, protect the citizens from the Abyss corruption and provide mental care for the people who experience loss; be there, be willing to help people without wanting anything in return. He would see himself in you, that he just like you, he would do anything for his nation too. So, being such a nice person will make him intrigued in you, and he would try to help you back without any cost.

Also, as you become friends with him, ask him to have lunch with you, or dinner, just a casual hanging out together, you will have more chance to see him (If he accepts or course). You don’t need to talk too much when eating with him, just be there, silently eat your food and enjoy the scenery. He isn’t the type to initiate the conversation, so you can just casually ask how he is, how is his mission, ... (Don’t yap too much)

To create an impression to Kinich, be chaotic with Ajaw. What that means is just to play along with that “harmless pixel” - Be provocative to him, mock him back like “Oh a small one like you can’t even hurt me in the slightest,” or “Aye Almighty Dragonlord..heh” with a provocative tone (makes him mad for your own amusement), which makes a bad impression to Ajaw. Then, Ajaw will sometime mention you to Kinich that how annoying you are. However, sometimes you can treat both Kinich and Ajaw with their favorite food, for Kinich is fresh fruits (except grainfruit), and for the bad, rotten ones you can juice it and give it to Ajaw, and say to him after he drinks that those you juiced are bad ones (but truly delicious).

Soon after sometimes when Kinich starts to get familiar with you being around, now you can start help Kinich out without his hesitation about the price he is going to pay. In general, start listen to him, pay attention to his normal usual solitude, that you won’t know if there are any hidden worries lies within him, and point it out gently if you ever spot it. “Kinich, is everything okay? You look quite down.” Just casually ask him like a fellow friend, don’t force him to answer and it is okay for him not to answer, all that matter is that you are there with him, no matter what. If it's a mundane conflict between him and clients, he can tell you his usual work and vent, it would be better than not telling anyone (you can get to know more about his life).

After you lend an ear to him, he would secretly pay a price for you being there with him, like often going to your home and giving you some extra fruits that he ‘accidentally’ picks too much, or personally inviting you to lunch (You asked him most of the time), and give you some Natlan’s local flower to you, he would try to find a way to know which one are your favorites and keep giving them to you.

He would be gradually started to fall for you, day by day, slowly and sweetly, by your welcoming presence and your cheerful demeanor. Until to the point that Ajaw can detect his embarrassment when he spots you from afar. Ajaw would flabbergast as he sees Kinich blushes and secretly observes you from afar. Ajaw would constantly mocks him for falling such a boring person like you - “That uninteresting brat has a place in your heart??? Do you even hear yourself? I don’t have a servant like you – a down bad, desperate servant.” But he can’t help but to admit that he likes your fruit juice. He would also ‘approve’ you to be the next servant just after Kinich to serve the Almighty Dragonlord (No one has a chance to meet the K’uhul Ajaw and you two has a big privilege to serve under him)

But Kinich hides his feelings well, so you need to be patient and lure him out more, only time matters in this moment. Wait for him to consult his friend about his complexity in his heart, and just to have a conclusion that: He falls in love with you.

__________________________________________

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #gi x reader #ifa x reader #ifa x you #cyno x reader #cyno x you #venti x reader #venti x you #kinich x reader #kinich x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #fiction #my writing #my fiction

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yuvany · 8 months ago

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PERFECT PAIR

ENHYPEN and their ideal partner

OT7 ENHYPEN x fem!reader CONTENT/WARNING(S) fluff + comfort + not proofread + rushed WORD COUNT ~ 500 CHECK MARK

consider reblogging if you liked this !!

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

Someone who values him for his flaws. Want someone to acknowledge the things about him that aren't perfect, the part and sides of him that he does not dare show anyone. He fears that once he does, they'll think of him under a dark light, as if he was a neon light shining in their eyes. So, comfort him, and tell him that he is perfect like he is and that you'll love him no matter what.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

The maturity that he has is often the only thing that people take him for. Jay is a lot more than a 'parent', he is a caring, funny and adorable person. He also wants someone who is honest, he wants to be able to trust one person for the rest of his life. So love him, tell him your thoughts and never forget the bottomless love he has to offer.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

Jake loves like a starving dog, and he wishes it to be reciprocated. Like a dog, he is loyal and it is something he values a lot, a key point that he wants everyone to follow. He is drawn to someone who is both emotionally and intelectually intelligent. Someone he can talk to and be understood, and he'll return that act.

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙆 𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙉

The classical romance. Sunghoon wants to appreciate someone's outer and inner beauty. For him, it doesn't matter if the two of you share interests or not. If you do, it is fun for him to be able to discuss it with someone, like music for example. If they differ though, he'll be more than happy to listen to you talk and vice versa while he takes you to a cute cafe in the city.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

Sunoo wants someone who can match his energy, be their most energetic self around him. He does not want to be the only one who is cheery, that makes me feel like a sore thumb. Of course, there are times when the both of you are not up to feeling happy, and thats okay, because he is happy to talk with you about your feelings. Just don't be quiet.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

A partner also means a friend. Jungwon pairs well with someone carefree and laid back, a someone who can match his style and energy. He wants someone to take care of, but also be taken care by. Anyway, he'll support you as much as he can, to the point you'll wonder if your output evens out with his because Jungwon will always be there for your events and celebrate with you.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

His character is very adventurous, he wants someone who can experience the things with him at the same time, someone who is able to take risks and be passionate and ambitious to their work. Since he became an idol trainee at such a young age, he understands the struggles, so he would like someone who also understands him.

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sabrinajenre96 · 2 months ago

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Title: A Day with the Bradfords

Pairing: Tim Bradford x Detective!Reader (Y/N) Word Count: ~5,000

Warning: none

---

7:04 AM – Bradford Residence

You were halfway into your vest, hair still damp from a rushed shower, when the phone buzzed again on the kitchen counter.

“Y/N,” Tim grumbled from the hallway, “Your phone’s losing its mind.”

“It’s a double homicide,” you said, already moving toward the door. “Nyla’s already en route. They want me on scene with Shay.”

At the sound of his name, the sleek Belgian Malinois padded into the kitchen, alert and ready. Unlike the bulldog mix currently snoring on the couch—Kojo, the mistake Lucy Chen had learned from and Tim had inherited.

“Have I mentioned I hate when you get called in before coffee?” Tim muttered.

You smirked and kissed him. “You’ll live. You’ve got Lilah and Kojo all day.”

Tim groaned. “That’s not comforting.”

From down the hall came the unmistakable sound of your five-year-old daughter stomping in her light-up unicorn slippers and singing off-key about pancakes.

Lilah appeared, clutching a tiara in one hand and dragging a feather boa behind her.

“Morning, Daddy! Kojo and I are going on a super-secret mission after breakfast. He said he’s ready.”

Kojo sneezed. Lilah interpreted that as agreement.

“I love you both. Be strong,” you said dramatically, ruffling Tim’s hair.

By the time the door closed behind you, Tim stared at Lilah and Kojo like a man entering a warzone with no backup.

“Alright, Lilah,” he said, “Let’s make pancakes.”

“Great!” she shouted, clambering onto a chair and grabbing flour. “I’m in charge. Kojo’s our chef. He made eggs last week.”

Tim narrowed his eyes at the dog. “We’ll discuss that later.”

---

8:42 AM – Kitchen, Mostly Flour-Coated

Kojo had white paws now. Not from age, but from the bag of flour Lilah had knocked over during an overly enthusiastic whisking session. The bulldog mix didn’t seem to mind; he licked at the floor and trailed a line of white paw prints across the tile.

“Daddy, the pancakes look like clouds!” Lilah beamed.

“Because you dumped half the box of baking powder in,” he muttered, flipping a lumpy disc of batter.

Kojo barked once.

“No, you don’t get any unless you sit. That goes for you too, Kojo.”

Kojo wagged his tail, did a spin, and promptly leapt onto the bench at the table.

---

10:15 AM – Neighborhood Walk (A.K.A. Disaster Recon)

Lilah insisted on wearing a tutu, fairy wings, and sunglasses. Kojo wore his vest labeled "Security," a gift from Angela that Tim regretted every time Lilah took it literally.

They made it three blocks before the mud puddle incident. Lilah squealed. Kojo launched himself into it.

Tim stood frozen, holding two leashes and questioning every decision he’d made in life.

---

11:30 AM – Bath Time (Again)

He bathed Kojo. Then Lilah. Then himself after Kojo shook off all over him.

He texted Lucy a picture of Kojo in a towel with the caption: "Still think he was better off with you?"

Lucy responded: *"You’re the one who said 'dogs build character.' Enjoy your development."

---

1:03 PM – Living Room Obstacle Course

Lilah had dragged every pillow, blanket, and hula hoop into the living room.

“Kojo needs training! He can’t be in security if he can’t jump over things!”

Kojo was napping.

“Wake him up, Daddy! He has drills!”

“You wake him up. I value my limbs.”

---

3:14 PM – Detective Lilah’s Mystery Mission

Tim was in toy handcuffs. Again.

“You’re under arrest for hiding the last cookie,” she declared. “Kojo saw you do it.”

Kojo woofed.

“Traitor,” Tim muttered.

---

5:45 PM – Dinner & a Truce

Mac and cheese. Apples. A juice box and one tired bulldog.

Lilah was quieter now, cuddled beside Tim with her stuffed unicorn.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, peanut?”

“I love you more than pancakes. Even fluffy ones.”

“I love you too, kiddo.”

---

9:00 PM – Bradford Residence, Peace At Last

You pushed the front door open, kicking off your boots. Shay trotted in beside you, already sniffing out Kojo’s messes.

The house was quiet.

You found them in the living room.

Tim was half-sitting, half-reclining on the couch, TV volume low, a football game playing. Lilah was asleep on his chest, Kojo curled up at their feet.

You smiled, heart full, and snapped a picture with your phone.

“You survived,” you whispered, kissing his cheek.

Tim gave a tired, contented grin. “She broke me. But yeah.”

You sat beside them, one hand on his knee, the other brushing your daughter’s wild curls.

Chaos and all—this was home.

#the rookie #the rookie fanfic #tim bradford x wife reader #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford #tim Bradford x reader x kojo

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marookiee · 2 months ago

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༚༅༚˳. “Easy Like Sunday Morning” ༚༅༚˳.

summary: caleb comes to pick you up for your weekly gym session, but he gets a little too excited to see you…

cw: MDNI, fem reader, smut, masturbation, pet names, unestablished relationship, vaginal sex, dry humping, kissing, unprotected sex

pairings: sub caleb x mc/reader

music: Novacane - Frank Ocean Father Figure - George Michael Surrender - Kut Klose F.U.C.K. - Victoria Monét (play when mentioned for the best experience)

It's just another Sunday. You and Caleb have plans to go to the gym together, something that has become a weekly occurrence.

Although you couldn’t sleep last night, your head was filled with thoughts about him. You’ve had this crush for months now. Yes, you have always been very close, but recently something about him.. awoke something in you. His biceps have gotten bigger, his face slimmer, his demeanor more intimidating. But only you knew what a softie he truly was. And also, what kind of “best friend” tells you they get off to the work pictures you’ve sent them? Not a normal one. So why would you risk your valued friendship for some silly romance.. that might not even be reciprocated? The answer seemed obvious. You shouldn’t.

So after breaking a sweat last night, you woke up an hour early to take a shower before Caleb picked you up at your apartment. Little did you know, he got up 2 hours before you.

To pretty himself up, and to get you both coffee. he knows you both have packed schedules, so he tries to take maximum advantage of the time you get to spend together. Like friends do right?

As Caleb made his way down to your place, you had just woken up. Face flushed and disheveled, pajamas wrinkled and on the floor. Hair a mess.

As you hopped into the shower, Caleb showed up at your door. He has a key and knows where the spare is, but he always knocks before entering. After about 5 minutes of knocking and waiting, he decided you were probably still asleep. He came in and took his shoes off, dressed in a black compression shirt and black sweatpants, he looked way too good.

He heard the sound of your speaker, Novacane by Frank Ocean playing. Meaning you must’ve been awake. Sitting the coffee down on your kitchen table, he realized you were in the shower.

No biggie.

Oh, but the door is cracked.

None of his business…

A peek won’t hurt!! Right??

Just to make sure his best friend was okay…

Creeping over to the door, Caleb put his body behind the door and his eyes in the thin opening of it. You were washing your hair.

No big deal.

But man…You sure did look good all wet.

With your eyes closed.. hands moving in circles through your pretty brown hair.. making your boobs bounce…

WHAT??

Caleb moved his head behind the door with the rest of his body. No way he’s having this freak-ass thought about his closest friend.

He couldn’t let this continue any longer.

That would be absurd.

What a perv, dude. Stalking his best friend in the shower. Gross. Caleb thought to himself, arms crossed over his chest, still behind the door.

It’s not like you know though. That’s a relief.. what you don’t know won’t hurt you.

Oh, exactly.

So.. maybe it wouldn’t hurt for him to have a look for.. just a little bit longer..

Quietly, Caleb settled his body on his knees, directly in front of the door crack. One hand on the door, and one hand on the frame, he watched as you poured body wash onto a rag, rubbing it together and then onto your body.

Furrowing his brows and letting his mouth hang open just a little, he was dumbfounded. This was exactly how he envisioned your body to be. Plushie breasts and a cute stomach.. complimented by smooth thighs.

I mean.. not that he’s imagined it.

The suds multiplying and slipping down your entire body, combined with the vanilla scent that’s now made its way through the crack of the door, really affected him.

Removing one hand from the door, his hand made its way to his sweatpants, making him realize how painfully hard he was. The contact made him jump a little, his brows furrowed even more, mouth now all the way open.

He can’t go to the gym like this. he can’t let you see him like this. he has no choice but to take control. “this is so wrong”, he whispered as he reached one hand into his sweatpants, pulling his flushed, leaking cock out.

He looks back up to where you're still standing, now attempting to wash your back.

Caleb swipes the tip of his cock, letting out a quiet wince at how sensitive he is right now. As you reached your arm around to get to your back, Caleb focused on your ass.

It always looked so soft.. so plushie.. so.. perfect. The suds dripped down your back, onto your ass, and down your legs.

He started stroking himself to this sight, having to bite his lip to contain his whines. As you started to rub the soap off your body, grabbing onto your breasts and sliding over your thighs and stomach, Caleb began to wonder what it would be like to be under your control. To just be yours.. even for a night. Even if you were just using him for your pleasure. he wouldn’t mind.. as long as he could make you feel good. as long as he was the one making you feel that way.

Picking up the pace of his strokes, it became harder and harder to hold back his moans. Pressing his head against the door frame with one hand holding onto it, he started to let out small whimpers. “y-yeah.. fu-fuck..” Caleb glanced back at your body, trying to get one last look before he finished and attempted to act nonchalant.

You were completely washed off, and completely wet. just enough to send him over the edge. His abs and biceps were sweaty, they tensed as his hands and legs shook, he closed his eyes and threw his head back, letting out a loud, pornographic moan, as cum shot out onto his shirt, which was lifted just slightly.

He immediately came down, mortified at what just happened. he thought to himself, “how could anyone possibly cover this up”.

He was never going to see you again. You were going to hate him if you caught him like this. And when he thought things couldn’t possibly get worse, you opened the door.

Although he felt like the dirtiest filthiest creep, you loved the sight before you. Caleb was on his knees, his abs and biceps swole against his tight shirt, his pretty red cock on display, resting on his abdomen. cum all on his shirt, his eyes were big and puppy-like, and his cheeks were getting redder by the second.

You were in a black silk robe, hair wet and clean, looking down at him. and before he knew it, he was hard again.

But to his surprise, you smiled at him.

“H-hey. I’m so sorry.. please let me explain..”, He managed to stutter out, still obviously shaken up.

“No need.” You said, settling down on your knees in front of him, looking him in the eyes.

“W-what? You’re not mad? You’re not gonna punch me in the face and kick me out?”

“No. of course not. As long as you can answer me this.”

“Oh um..okay...”

“Have you done this before?”

“…Huh?” Caleb’s eyes grew bigger, scared to say the wrong answer. His ears practically steaming because of the eye contact.

“Have you done this before. to the thought of me.” Your voice wasn’t questioning of him, it was almost.. demanding.

Caleb’s brain was practically mush right now, functioning with barely enough energy to muster up a lie.

“Yes.” He said almost immediately, making you stand up to look down on him again.

“Have you ever.. wondered what the real thing felt like?” you said, crossing your arms as a quiet blush crept across your face.

“Of course I have.” Caleb’s cock twitched at your words as his head hung, sending you even more obvious signals.

“Do you want to?” His head whipped up to look at you once again.

“You want to? With me? ”

“Yes.” You sighed out, secretly just as nervous as him.

“You like me? Like that?”

“I do.”

“I never noticed.”

“Yeah me either. I-… I think about it all the time.”

“I-I do too.” Caleb looked back down, then up again, giving you the most pathetic doe eyes, making your knees buckle.

Leaning back down, your hand cupped his cheek. He was burning hot. You smiled at his flustered state, running a hand through his soft hair. He nuzzled his face in your other hand, alarmed at how natural it felt to be like this with you. It was weird.. even though he hates showing people how vulnerable he could be, he liked it with you. It came naturally.

“Are you sure you want to?” You asked again, wanting to make sure he meant what he said.

“I do I do. Please. T-the gym can wait..” You had completely forgotten about the gym at this point, so focused on the tension that nothing else seemed to matter. Your hand sliding down his neck, you thought of what was soon to come.

“C'mon then pretty,” you said to him as you grabbed his hand, leading him to your dim bedroom.

He followed you like a lost puppy, the tip of his cock peeking out of his sweatpants just slightly. This felt like a dream.

He had been in your room before, but not like this. All the windows were closed, with an orange lamp illuminating the space. A candle lit on your nightstand filled the room and made it smell sweet. It all seemed too good to be true.

Your bed was messy, pillows in every direction and your comforter wrinkled. At the side of the bed, you let go of his hand and turned around to meet him. Although he was significantly taller and bigger than you, that didn’t stop his submissive nature.

He looked down at you with big eyes, waiting for you to guide him through what you wanted.

Walking up to him slowly, you ran both your hands through his hair, sitting both of them on his neck.

He hesitantly put his hands on your waist, the silk cooling his hot palms. You were so close. You could feel the heat coming off his body, and the song suddenly changed. Father figure by George Michael played, making the tension 10x thicker.

“C-can I kiss you?” Caleb asked lowly, his breath hitching. You slowly nodded, analyzing his expressions like any could be his last.

His warm hands slid up your waist to your face, cupping it ever so gently.

Your lips finally met, and it was like heaven on earth. Caleb was so warm, and your bodies were pressed so tightly against each other, you could smell his cologne.

Caleb always smelled husky and manly, a scent that always had you trying to smell him again and again. It invoked something in you, as you dragged your hands from his shoulders over his pecs, to finally wrap your arms around his waist.

He twitched at the sudden sensation, and he swiped his tongue against your lips, quietly asking you for access. You immediately parted your lips slowly opening your eyes, to see he was already staring back at you with a low, pleading look.

He made you weak. His tongue met yours, as he dragged one hand up to your your cheeks, fingers pressing in on them for easier access.

He was still staring back at you, making you break a sweat.

He tasted like coffee and dark chocolate, with a hint of cigarettes. You always thought he was so sexy when he smoked.

Caleb was a sloppy kisser, saliva now making its way down both of your chins. He licked a sudden stripe on your neck, sucking the spot a few times before he cupped your ass, picking you up and wrapping your legs around him with ease.

With a hand at your back to support you, he turned around and sat down on your bed, you now straddling him. You could feel how hard he was on your bare pussy, your wetness making a stain on his sweatpants.

He was still holding onto your ass, his hand at your back pushing you forward to kiss him once again. Coming to your ear, he whispered, “Can I take this off?” as his hands rubbed the silk robe tied around you.

You immediately nodded as he met your face, taking his hands and slipping the robe past your shoulders to reveal your breasts. He stared at them for a while, before leaning down and taking one in his mouth, massaging the other in his hand. The sudden warmth and slight graze of his teeth made you let out a choked moan, causing him to look up at you, silently teasing you.

Although Caleb wasn’t the most experienced, he knew what you wanted.

How could he not? You always told him about your past relationships and experiences.. “he was just too dominant, he only cared about his pleasure, I just wanted more foreplay..” he remembered. Always making mental note of what you liked and disliked, he’s been preparing for this moment. Although, he never truly thought this day would come.

You began to move your hips against him, snapping him back to reality as he let out a whine, not stopping him from sucking and biting. You were both a moaning mess, both craving more friction.

Caleb let go of you with a sudden pop, and slid your robe off and to the floor. You took the chance to lift the hem of his cum-stained shirt, revealing his beautiful upper body. You took his face in your hands, kissing him once more, as he analyzed your body.

He sighed out. You’re perfect. You had the body of a Greek statue, not to mention the face of a goddess. His dream girl.

Waking him out of his trance, you got up and got on your knees, grabbing the hem of his sweatpants and tugging them down. Just the sight of you below him made him twitch.

You finally pulled his boxers off, revealing the thing that got all this started. Caleb's arms holding himself up as he sat there, manspreading, ready for you to do something to him. Anything.

His cock was laying on his stomach, dripping pre-cum. You came closer, putting your hands on his knees, you licked a bold strip from the base of his cock to his tip, sucking it a little. The song switched again, Surrender by Kut Klose. Which was exactly what he wanted to do for you.

He sat there in awe, mouth wide open and forehead sweaty, as you stood up to face him.

“Lay back baby,” you said to him in a hushed, sultry tone. He did as you said, laying back on your pillows. You straddled him, your bare pussy just barely grazing him, making him wince.

“Are you that sensitive honey?”

“Yeah I- I don’t do this a lot..” He responded, looking at you with dilated pupils.

“That’s okay. I’ll make you feel good Caleb.”

His mouth filled with drool at your words, as you began to kiss up and down his neck and chest, his shoulders, and his face. Finally, to meet him in a sloppy kiss, your teeth crashing together and your tongues practically fighting.

Your hands fell down his chest and met with the tip of his cock. You swiped it a few times, making him moan in your mouth, you had your hand on the nape of his neck, pushing him into the kiss.

You lined him up with your entrance and finally sunk onto him.

Painfully slow.

The most pathetic whimpers came out of Caleb, his lips now red and swollen.

He sat back to look at you, he’s never seen someone so beautiful. Your hair was still wet and slightly dripping, your perfect skin glowing, your lips wet and your nipples red and hard from him sucking on them. He couldn’t take it anymore. he yearned for you. To feel you.

He wrapped his arms around your waist moving you up and down on him.

“S-shit.. mmh..” He whined as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, he’d never felt this good before. Your chests were flush against each other, both of you lost in pleasure.

Your mouth hung open, you having no control of what came out of your mouth. Although, you weren’t nearly as noisy as him. He was so damn whiny, it was almost pitiful.

You loved it.

He moved his hands from your waist to rub your thighs, watching them moving with every thrust. he took a minute to stare at them, only to look back up and cover your neck and collarbone in kisses.

Your head flopped over to the side, closing your eyes tight.

It was so different with Caleb than with other guys. Not only did he care about how you felt and your experience, but he was also so big. His large biceps made it easy to lift you up and down on him, his strong thighs sat you forward, making you the closest to each other you could possibly be, and his big cock stretched you out just right, hitting all your weak spots.

He looked up at you for a minute, making sure you held eye contact with him. “Am I doing good? Tell me I'm doing good.” You were so close. And he was about to send you over the edge.

F.U.C.K. by Victoria Monet playing, the orange lights hitting his pretty face so perfectly, this was like a dream.

“So good baby. You make me feel so good.”

With these words alone you could both feel what was to come, quickening your pace just a little. Caleb took notice and snuck his thumb down to your clit, rubbing small circles. He watched your face as you threw your head back, a choked moan leaving your lips.

You suddenly felt him shoot up into you, his whimpers loud and broken. He kissed all over your face, as his hot load began to spill out of you.

He grabbed your waist, moving you up and down once again, stuffing it back into you. You continued to hold onto his shoulders, too tired to protest.

He pulled out of you, laid back, and scooted you even closer to him. One arm wrapped around your shoulder, the other holding onto your waist. your cheeks were right against each other, both of your faces covered in sweat.

“Was that good for you?” Caleb asked, out of breath.

“Too good. But.. can I tell you something?”

“Of course, anything.”

“ You’re so easy. “

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