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candy69gurl · 21 hours

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MISSING MOM? NAH

PAIRING Step dad!Gojo Satoru x gn!reader, Step dad!Toji Fushiguro x gn!reader, Step dad!Nanami Kento x gn!reader, Step dad!Geto Suguru x gn!reader, Step dad!Sukuna x gn!reader, Step dad!Shiu Kong x gn!reader, Step dad!Hiromi Higuruma x gn!reader, Step dad!Kamo Choso x gn!reader [seperate]

SYNOPSIS You've been missing your mum on Mother's Day, but stepdad is here to help you feel better. So he offers you his titties to suck on some consolation

WARNING stepcest, pre-established relationship, comfort, m!nipple sucking biting pinching, m!cumming in pants tits & hands, f!nipple playing and sucking, dry humping, handjob, reader asking for milk (Heian Sukuna lol), m!masturbation, m!overstimulation

NOTE this one's requested by my dear @imhellakawai.. We're just girls (with daddy issues) ... I laughed a lot while writing this.. Some people may find the contents unpleasant. Simply block and move on; please do not make disparaging remarks about me or report my post; if you do, prepare to get trolled by my moots. Please read the warnings and do not do this at home (duh).

◈ SATORU GOJO

Gojo enters the house. He's just returned from a mission. A mission on Mother's Day, of all days, had been a particularly cruel twist of fate. But it's not the praise or adrenaline that he's met with. Instead, the sound of sobbing fills the room as you pounce on him, your cries tearing at his heart..

"Hey, hey, baby," he says softly, kneeling in front of you. He gathers you into his arms, hugging you close. "It's okay, I'm here now."

You cling to him, the sadness and longing for your mother clear in your voice. "I miss mommmmmmmmm, pls daddy .. I need mommy," you wail, your body shaking with sobs.

He picks you up, cradling you in his arms as he blindly stumbles through the house, murmuring comforting words. "I know, I know, baby. It's tough without her. But I'm here for you, okay? I'll always be here for you."

Once he reaches your room, he closes the door behind him, enveloping you both in privacy and quiet. He lays you gently down onto your bed, following after you to sit beside you.

His hand reaches out, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek, wiping away the tears that continue to slip down. "You don't have to be sad," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "You have me. I'll be here for you, every step of the way."

Knowing that he can't replace your mother, Gojo draws strength from the idea that he can be there for you in his own way. He can't change the past, but he can make the present and future as comforting as possible.

Gojo scoots over next to you on the bed, gently laying you down. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to his body, feeling your warmth and softness against him.

His heart aches for you, knowing how much you miss your mother. He kisses the top of your head, whispering softly, "I'll take you to your favorite restaurant tomorrow, promise baby. I'll spend the whole day with you. We'll go to the park, maybe take a walk through the city, and have as much fun as we can."

His voice is soothing, his promise of tomorrow's happiness a balm for your wounded heart. You start to relax in his arms, the weight of your sorrow lightening as he whispers sweet things in your ear.

"Sleep now, baby," he says, his hand gently stroking your hair. "I'll be right here."

Gojo drifts off to sleep, exhausted from his mission and the emotional weight of the day. He's still wearing his uniform, which now seems to serve as a barrier between him and the comfort of sleep.

In the middle of the night, your eyes flutter open, your sleep disturbed by the sight of Gojo, still and serene, his features soft in slumber. A pang of love and tenderness fills you, making you want to make sure he's as comfortable as possible.

Quietly, you reach out, your fingers working at the buttons of his uniform, unfastening it bit by bit. You're careful not to disturb him, your movements gentle and calculated. Once you've freed him from the confines of the uniform, leaving him in just his shirt and trousers.

You nestle your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in deep, the scent of him enveloping you. Your hands slip under the hem of his shirt, resting on his skin. They travel up his neck, then down to his chest, your fingers tracing the contours of his muscles.

The sensation of his skin under your touch ignites something within you, a desire to explore, to connect. You unbutton his shirt, revealing his firm chest. You glance up at him, gauging his sleep. He's still deeply unconscious.

With a newfound bravery, you lean forward, your tongue darting out to trace the curve of one of his nipples. The sensation is electric, a shiver running down your spine. You close your lips around it, sucking gently, your tongue teasing it.

His hand comes up, wrapping around the back of your head, pulling you closer. His fingers thread through your hair, a soft moan escaping his lips. His other hand slides down your back, gripping your hip firmly.

Gojo's reaction spurs you on, your mouth traveling between his nipples, your tongue playing with them. You're lost in the sensations, the taste of him, the warmth of his skin. You're learning, but more than that, you're basking in the intimacy of the moment.

Gojo suddenly bursts into laughter, the sound filling the room. "Baby, what are you trying to do?" he says, the amusement in his voice apparent.

You pull back, flustered, your cheeks turning red with embarrassment. You realize he's awake now, and you hadn't even noticed. "I... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to.." Your voice trails off, unsure how to explain your actions.

Gojo's expression softens, his hand cupping the back of your head. "Baby, you've been missing mommy so bad that sucking on daddy's nipples is making you feel better?" He doesn't scold you for what you've done, for taking matters into your own hands. Instead, he pulls you back against his chest, his tone gentler now.

"Go on," he murmurs, his fingers tangling in your hair. "I'm liking it." He presses your face against his chest, encouraging you to continue. The approval in his voice, the warmth of his body, it calms the storm within you, reassuring you that you're not in trouble, that he's happy to share this intimate moment with you.

You resume your actions, your lips and tongue worshiping Gojo's nipples. Your eyes remain locked on his face, watching in the dim light as his cheeks flush with color, his pink petite nipples hardening beneath your touch. Your gaze drops, noticing his bulge against his pants, the outline of his erection straining against the fabric.

As your mouth works on his nipples, his hands reach down, rubbing at himself through his pants. You notice the way he's whimpering, twitching under your ministrations. You seize the moment, pushing him onto his back before climbing on top of him. Your hips grind against his hardening member, your mouth still busy on his nipple.

Gojo whimpers, trying to tell you to slow down, but you take it as encouragement, sucking even harder. Your tongue flicks over his nipple, and you gently nibble at it. You switch to the other nipple, repeating the motions, teasing him.

He tries to pry you off with his hands, gripping your hair gently, but you're determined, not letting him stop you. You pinch both nipples, twisting them between your fingers. Gojo arches his back, cumming through his pants, the evidence dampening the fabric.

Gojo gasps, his eyes wide, "Oh my, what a bad girl you are." Despite the teasing tone, there's an underlying sense of pride, of admiration, in his voice.

You purr, satisfied with the reaction you've elicited. You scoot closer to him, pressing kisses to his cheeks before snuggling into his arms. The warmth of his body envelops you, the rhythm of his breaths lulling you into a peaceful slumber. This time, you sleep soundly in his embrace, the ache in your heart starting to fade away.

◈ TOJI FUSHIGURO

The day stretches on, your sadness a tangible weight. Mother's Day is a cruel reminder of the loss that haunts you, the constant ache palpable as you sit on the couch, your phone providing a window to the world of mother-daughter relationships.

Toji notices your distress, the wetness on your cheeks and the tremble in your shoulders, but he remains silent, giving you space while he goes about his own business. It isn't until you let out a soft whimper that he can't bear your pain any longer.

"Come on ya, don't be a cry-baby now," he says gently, his voice a gentle reprimand. "You're much older." His tone is laced with affection, the concern evident in his eyes.

You cover your face with your arms, the humiliation of being seen in such a vulnerable state bubbling up inside you. "I'm sorry," you mumble, trying to hide your shame.

Toji approaches, his large frame casting a shadow over you as he sits down next to you. He slides an arm under your neck, pulling you onto his thighs, your head resting on his lap. His hand starts to work its way through your hair, a comforting and gentle gesture.

"It's okay," he reassures you, his thumb stroking your temple. "It's normal to miss her. I miss her too." His words are a balm, his touch soothing as you allow yourself to be consoled, the weight of the day slowly lifting.

Toji gently removes your hands from your face, taking the opportunity to wipe away the tears that cling to your eyes. His gaze is filled with compassion, the understanding in his eyes a testament to his own grief.

Without warning, you pull his head towards you, your lips capturing his in a tender kiss. Toji is caught off guard at first, but he returns the gesture, the comfort of human connection a balm for your sorrow.

You move from kissing his lips to the scar near his lips, your lips lingering on the familiar mark. When your sobbing subsides, you pull away from him, the desire for retribution sparking within you.

"You called me a cry-baby!" you retort, your voice tinged with indignation. In a sudden burst of energy, you pounce on Toji, straddling him on the couch. Your hands reach for his sides, your fingers dancing in a feeble attempt to tickle him.

Toji smirks, his hands wrapped around your waist, thwarting your efforts to tickle him. "It's true, you are a baby," he teases, the mocking light in his eyes intensifying.

Determined to make him pay for his mockery, you shift your focus to his chest, your teeth finding purchase on his nipple through his black tshirt. The action is bold, the bite hard enough to leave a mark.

Surprisingly, instead of the expected yelp, Toji lets out a low moan, the sound hanging in the air between you. The unexpected reaction leaves both of you momentarily stunned, the implications of your actions heavy in the room.

Toji releases his grip on you, clearing his throat awkwardly. You look at him, confusion clouding your expression, your tongue darting out to wet your lips.

With a swift motion, you raise his tshirt, exposing his chest, and immediately set about sucking on his nipples. His eyes widen, his composure slipping a little at the sudden, intense attention you're lavishing on him.

Despite his attempts at restraint, Toji's arousal is evident, his erection straining against the confines of his pants. The way you tease him, alternating between sucking and licking his nipples, is tantalizing, making it increasingly difficult for him to ignore your advances.

Then, without warning, you take it a step further. Your teeth bite down on his nipple, following it up with a painful pinch. The resulting sound that escapes Toji's lips is a mixture of pain and pleasure.

The line between what's acceptable and inappropriate has been crossed, and Toji can no longer hold back. His hands grab you, forcefully pulling you off his chest and forcing you onto your back. Without hesitation, he lifts your shirt, exposing your sensitive breasts.

"Quit, brat. Now it's time for payback," he growls, his voice laced with a mix of dominance and desire. His mouth descends on your nipple, his tongue flicking against the hardened nub while his hand reaches for his pants, freeing his erection.

He strokes himself leisurely, his gaze never leaving your flushed face as he continues to suck on your nipples.

You moan softly, the sensations coursing through you leaving you breathless. You attempt to pull him away, but Toji remains resolute, his mouth firmly latched onto your nipple.

As his hand works his cock in tandem with his mouth on your chest, the tension between you builds. Your moans grow more desperate, the pleasure-pain of his actions leaving you both bewildered and intoxicated.

Finally, the dam breaks. Toji lets out a shuddered groan, his seed spilling onto your chest. The warmth coats your skin, the result of your actions etched on your body.

He releases hsi grip on your body, his breathing heavy, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of satisfaction and awe. The intimacy of the act is undeniable, the world beyond the confines of the room fading into insignificance.

You stare at the mess he's left on your tits, the implications of your actions sinking in. The dynamic between the two of you has shifted, the boundaries you've pushed a testament to the newfound uncharted territory you now occupy.

You sigh heavily, the weight of your grief bearing down on you once more. "Ghhh, I miss mom," you say again, your voice tinged with bitterness.

Toji lets out a frustrated sound, his hand coming up to slap his forehead. "For the love of God, shut up," he groans, his tone laced with exasperation.

◈ NANAMI KENTO

You tiptoe into Nanami's room, your eyes red and puffy from crying. He looks up from his book, concern etched on his face, as he notices your state. He sets the book aside, rushing to your side. Nanami kneels before you, placing a hand on your knee, "Honey, sweetheart, why are you crying?"

Your voice shaky, you tell him. "Today's Mother's Day, and I miss mom." Tears stream down your cheeks once more, the pain of missing your mother overwhelming you.

Nanami's eyes soften, and he feels a pang of sadness for your loss. "Come here, sweetheart. Tonight, you're sleeping with me. We can cuddle the pain away." He helps you up, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you close.

You cling to him, grateful for the comfort he offers. Nanami leads you to the bed, gently laying you down. He adjusts the covers, tucking you in before climbing in beside you. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you against his chest. You rest your head on his shoulder, feeling safe and comforted by his presence.

Nanami begins to hum a soft tune, caressing your hair gently. The rhythmic motion lulls you into a sense of calm, your sobs subsiding. You nuzzle closer, enjoying the warmth and security his embrace provides. As the night wears on, his reassuring touch and the sound of his heartbeat slowly lull you to sleep, your heart heavy, but not quite as broken.

Feeling safe and snuggled against Nanami, you begin to drift off to sleep. Your eyes flutter closed, but something catches your attention. As you lay against Nanami's chest, you notice that his shirt buttons are ajar, and his nipples are exposed.

A shiver runs down your spine as your mind wanders what if I- and without a moment's hesitation, you lunge forward, getting on top of him. You wrap your lips around one of his nipples, sucking gently. Your tongue flicks against it, and a soft moan escapes your lips.

Nanami's grip on you tightens, momentarily stunned by your sudden, bold action. His brow furrows, but he allows you to continue for a few moments before whispering, "Do you miss mommy this bad?"

You pause, unsure of how to respond, but the wanton desire you feel doesn't abate. You nuzzle against him, smiling into his chest before continuing your play with his nipple.

Nanami's hands travel to your hair, gripping it tightly as he lets out an involuntary moan. "Gosh… stop now, tis' too much," he commands, his voice thick with desire.

You ignore his plea, unbuttoning more of his shirt to expose the other nipple. You switch to that one, sucking it hungrily as Nanami's moans grow louder. His breathing quickens, and you can feel the need building in him.

"Sweetheart, I c-can't anymore," he begs, the desperation in his voice unmistakable. You look up at his face, smiling devilishly as you see the strain in his pants. You realize he's on the verge of losing control, and he frees his cock, stroking it gently as you continue to suck his nipple.

Nanami's moans grow louder, and his breathing becomes more erratic. You can feel the tension in his body, and he finally cums, moaning as he strokes himself. You continue sucking even after his orgasm subsides, enjoying the reactions you've elicited.

Nanami pries you off this time, his hands firmly but gently removing your mouth from his nipple. "What the hell were you doing?" he asks, a mixture of amusement, surprise, and arousal in his voice. You look up at him, your eyes full of childish innocence, before planting a kiss on his nose.

You giggle, snuggling close to him once more, your arms wrapping around him. You drift off to sleep, nestled against his body, content in the afterglow of invasion of his nipples.

◈ GETO SUGURU

The day's significance weighs heavy on your heart, a constant reminder of the void left by your mother's absence. You resist the urge to break down in tears, not wanting to burden Suguru with your sorrows.

Yet, as the day progresses, the weight of your emotions becomes too much to bear. Suguru notices the change in your demeanor, his keen senses picking up on your distress.

Confronting you, he demands an explanation for your unsettled state, refusing to be brushed off. You hesitate, unsure of how he'll react. But in the end, the yearning to share your feelings with someone overwhelms your fear.

Your voice wavers as you confess your longing for your mother. The confession hangs heavily between you, the vulnerability on display a stark contrast to the usual power dynamic.

To your surprise, Suguru doesn't scoff or mock you. Instead, his laughter is tinged with sympathy, a rare display of emotion from him.

"It's alright, Y/N," he says, gently guiding you into his embrace. "I know what it's like to miss someone. Even sorcerers lose their loved ones."

His arms wrap around you, comforting you in a way that is both unexpected and welcome. The warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart meld with the rhythm of your own, creating a temporary haven from the world.

The tears you've been holding back finally spill over, the weight of your sorrows lightening with each drop. In this moment, your monkey status ceases to matter, and you're simply the non-sorcerer girl he loves the most.

As tears stream down your face, your fingers tighten around his gojogesa. When you finally glance up, you're met with Geto's unexpectedly kind gaze. "You know.. I'm a bit like your mother too, don't you think?" he gently suggests. You shake your head, unable to comprehend. He then adopts a playful pout, asking, "Why do you need your mother when you have me?"

You wipe your tears, your fingers leaving damp trails across your face. Caught off guard by the kindness in Suguru's eyes, you hesitate before responding.

Your thoughts whirl, searching for an answer to his question. "I don't know," you admit, your voice small and unsure. "It's just..." Your words trail off, unable to articulate the feelings that bind you to your mother.

Suguru pouts, a childish expression that softens the severity of his features. His gaze remains fixed on you, waiting for you to continue.

Your gaze lingers on his chest, drawn to the unseen nipples beneath the fabric. You swallow, a faint blush creeping up your neck. Your eyes focusing on the area you've found out, your curiosity piqued by the hardened nubs nestled beneath his clothing. Swallowing hard, you gather your courage and ask, "Can I touch these?"

He chuckles, the sound pleasant in your ears. Suguru unties the sash of his gojogesa, letting it fall open to reveal his bare chest. "Go ahead," he encourages, his voice low and commanding.

At first, you hesitate, the proximity to his skin making you feel self-conscious. Slowly, you reach out, your fingers trembling as they brush against his nipples. The sensitivity of the flesh causes his body to shudder.

Encouraged by his reaction, you apply gentle pressure, watching as his nipples react to your touch. They harden further, a stark contrast against his smooth skin.

Suguru's eyes close, the pleasure evident in the soft moan that escapes his lips. His chest rises and falls with every breath, the intimacy of the moment overwhelming.

Your curiosity leads you to act without thinking, your lips capturing one of his nipples. The sudden warmth and wetness surprise Suguru, his hand instinctively moving to caress your hair.

He holds back a surprised laugh, allowing you to continue. As you suck gently, his breathing deepens, his body reacting to the unanticipated stimuli. The sensation of your mouth against his nipple proves to be more sensitive than he'd imagined, and he can feel the stirrings of arousal in his loins.

His cock starts to swell, the fabric of his clothes straining to contain it. The hardening flesh presses against your thigh, a testament to your newfound skill.

Suguru's hold on your hair tightens, the pleasure coursing through his body making it difficult to form coherent thoughts.

The sensation of his erection sends a thrill up your spine, causing you to giggle sheepishly. Suguru returns your laughter with a smirk, his eyes heavy with desire. With quick movements, he pulls your top off, revealing your own breasts.

His large hands cup your breasts, fingers tracing circles around your nipples. You squirm under his touch, attempting to dislodge his hands. But his grip is firm, refusing to let go.

"Why did you stop?" he asks, his voice low and commanding, tinged with a hint of playfulness. "Don't you want to feel what I am feeling?"

The question piques your curiosity, and you press your mouth back onto his nipple. As you suckle, Suguru mirrors your actions, dragging his fingers across the other nipple. They continue to toy with your hardening nubs, the sensations building with each stroke.

The rhythmic and insistent play continues, both of you immersed in the dance of pleasure. The intensity escalates, culminating in a sharp intake of breath from Suguru as he reaches his climax.

His fingers tighten around your nipples pulling and pinching them, his seed spilling onto his clothes. The sudden combination of pleasure and pain from his grip makes you nibble on his nipple, the dual sensations intoxicating.

As the waves of ecstasy subside, both of you pull back, panting from the intensity of the encounter.

Bashful, you hide your face in his chest, the intimacy of the situation leaving you flushed and breathless. Suguru's fingers trail along your spine, a gentle caress that soothes your nerves.

In the moment of quiet, he asks, "Do you still miss your mom?"

Your voice is soft, tinged with a hint of sincerity as you respond, "N-no... not that much. Not when you're around."

A gentle chuckle emanates from his chest, and you can't help but join in. The shared laughter is a moment of vulnerability, healing the longing you have for your mother.

◈ RYOMEN SUKUNA

Today is Mother's Day, and the emptiness of missing your mother looms over you like a dark cloud. You feel lost, and the void inside your heart seems to stretch and grow, making you lash out in frustration. Uraume tries to comfort you, but it's no use. You're consumed by your sadness, and you begin to yell and scream, throwing a tantrum.

"WHERE IS DAD!" you cry out, your voice raw with emotion. Uraume, sensing your distress, tries to follow you, their small hands reaching out to you as if to calm you down. But you're too lost in your grief, and you keep running, your feet carrying you further and further away from the comfort of the temple.

You don't notice where you're going, your emotions driving you forward. Suddenly, you collide with a solid surface, the force of the impact knocking the wind out of you. As you regain your breath, you look up to find Sukuna squinting down at you, his expression unreadable.

"What did I tell you about screaming?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous. His four arms fold across his chest, and his eyes bore into yours, waiting for an explanation.

You frown, tears streaming down your face, "D-dad," you start slowly, your voice cracking. "I want my mom too, Uraume can't be my mom, I need my real mom. I'm so, so lonely." Your words come out in a rush, the weight of your emotions too heavy to bear alone.

Uraume sighs heavily as they approach Sukuna, their small hands fidgeting with their robes. "Lord Sukuna, she has been throwing her tantrums the whole day. I am tired now... you have to take care of her now," Uraume complains, their voice heavy with exhaustion.

Sukuna nods, his eyes never leaving you. He reaches down, his four arms wrapping around you, easily lifting you from your feet. You continue to throw your tantrums, hitting his back as hard as you can with your fists, but he remains stoic, unperturbed by your outburst.

As he carries you to his room, your sobs slowly die down, replaced by heavy, shaky breaths. Once inside, he gently sets you down on the bed, his eyes never leaving you.

"Listen, brat," he begins, his voice stern but laced with a hint of concern. "You don't get to throw tantrums just because you're my child."

But before he can finish, your emotions get the better of you again, and hot tears spill over your cheeks, tracking down your face. You bury your face against his chest, your body shaking with each sob.

Sukuna's eyes soften, and he kneels down beside the bed, allowing you to hide against his hard, muscular form. "Now now, don't cry, brat. I'm not scolding you. I'm just trying to-"

But his words are cut off as you suddenly latch onto one of his nipples, your lips wrapping around it, sucking it into your mouth. You cling to him, your grip tenacious.

Sukuna watches you for a moment, a mixture of surprise and amusement flashing across his features. His hand reaches up to gently stroke your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as you continue to suckle on his nipple.

"Ah, that feels nice, brat," he says, his voice a low rumble. He pulls back slightly, giving you better access to his chest. "Do you want to suckle like this, little one?"

You nod, cheeks drying as you continue to suck on his nipple, your mouth warm and wet against his skin. Sukuna relaxes, settling onto the bed, and you nestle against him, your body finally still as you find comfort in this primitive act. In the dimly lit room, you hold on to Sukuna, his heartbeat slow and steady beneath your cheek. As you nurse on his nipple, the sadness that had gripped you earlier begins to lift, replaced by a sense of warmth and security.

As you cling to him, your body still, you finally muster up the courage to ask, your voice small and muffled against his chest. "Daddy, can you... can you milk?"

Sukuna can't help but let out a booming laugh at your request, the sound echoing through the room. "You're missing your mother so much, huh?" he chuckles, the sound soft and amused. "I'm not her, so I cannot milk.."

He leans down to kiss the top of your head, his lips warm against your skin. "Go back to sleep now. You'll feel better tomorrow. And I promise, I'm not leaving you."

He nestles you closer, his strong arms wrapping around you, and you snuggle into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body, the beat of his heart, and the safety of his presence. His voice is a soothing lullaby, and soon, your eyes grow heavy, your body drifting off to sleep.

Sukuna's other arms wrap around you, his fingers gently massaging your back. "There, there," he coos, his deep voice soothing you further. "You're safe with me, little one."

The night stretches on, and you continue to suckle, slowly drifting off to sleep, your body lulled by the rhythm of his heartbeat and the comfort of his touch. For now, the emptiness of missing your mother fades into the background, replaced by the love and protection of Sukuna.

◈ SHIU KONG

The day drags on, your spirits dampened by the weight of your sadness. Today, of all days, feels like a cruel reminder of your loss. The celebration of motherhood is a painful sting, a wound that's reopened by the simple act of remembering.

Shiu senses the shift in your demeanour, his eyes sympathetic as he joins you on the couch, throwing his half-smoked cigarette into the ashtray. You're lost in your thoughts, staring blankly at the TV screen, when he speaks, breaking the silence. "It's a tough day, isn't it?" His voice is gentle, a stark contrast to the usual tone of authority.

You nod, your eyes brimming with unshed tears as you clutch a pillow close to your chest. "I miss her," you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. The pain of losing your mother is a constant companion, one that fades with time but never truly disappears.

Shiu's response is immediate, his arms wrapping around you once more, pulling you onto his lap. His hand strokes your hair, an attempt to soothe the ruffled feathers of your heart. His kisses dot your forehead, a tender display of affection.

"I love you," he says, his voice soft and sincere. The words carry a depth of emotion, a promise that despite the circumstances, you are not alone. "Baby, I can do your mom and dad both, okay? Come on, what will make you feel better?"

Your gaze falls on his chest, his nipples pressing against his shirt, the sight momentarily distracting you from your sorrow.

Your hand hesitates, hovering over his chest for a moment before rising, your fingers tentatively brushing against his nipples. Shiu's eyes follow your movement, a hint of confusion coloring his expression.

The words tumble out, pleading and vulnerable, "Can I… will you let… me suck on them, please?" The request is unexpected, a confession of a secret desire, born from a place of grief and yearning.

Shiu's eyes widen, a perplexed expression crossing his features. However, he recovers quickly, nodding as he sits up, pulling his shirt over his head. His chest is revealed, smooth and toned, his nipples a darker hue against the pale skin. "Alright, go ahead. If that will make you miss your mom less."

His words linger in the air, the consent given, the door now open to your desire.

Your heart races as you lean forward, your lips parting as they close over one of the hard nubs. Your tongue flicks out, teasing the sensitive tip, the sensation of skin against your mouth unlike anything you've experienced before.

The taste of him, faint and slightly salty, is a shock to your senses, your mind hazy with the exploration of new territory. As you focus on the task, the ache of missing your mother begins to fade, replaced by a newfound sensation of comfort and intimacy.

The act is strange and all-consuming, your fingers tangled in the fabric of Shiu's pants, the sensation of your lips and tongue on his nipple sending shivers down his spine. His breath hitches, the unexpected turn of events stirring something within him.

His hand rests on your head, gently guiding you as you explore, the touch a mixture of reassuring and possessive. Shiu's body tenses, the involuntary reaction to the sensation you're providing.

The room seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you, connected by the intimate act, the chasm of your loss temporarily bridged by the strange comfort found in the act.

His voice comes out gruff, a mixture of embarrassment and awe in his tone. The admission is unexpected, revealing a side to him you've never seen.

You watch him, unblinking, sensing the shift in his demeanor. The layers of authority and strictness seem to falter for a moment, replaced by vulnerability.

"It's okay," he reassures you, his hand caressing your head gently once more. "It's just, you're awakening feelings I haven't felt in a long time." The confession is startling, the admission opening a door to a world previously unexplored.

The implications of his words swirl in your mind, the weight of the admission leaving you feeling a little shaky. The intimacy between the two of you deepens, the shared secret a bond unlike any other.

You continue your exploration, the newfound knowledge fueling your curiosity, the two of you falling further into the abyss of your connection.

As you continue your sensual ministrations, you become aware of Shiu's attempts to thrust his hips against you, a silent plea for more. Your curiosity piqued, you release his nipple from your mouth, your hands deftly navigating the path to his growing erection.

The feel of his hardness in your hand is electrifying, your fingers curling around the base, your thumb stroking the sensitive head. Your lips return to his nipple as your hand works in tandem, the dual stimulation driving him wild.

His breath hitches, his body arching into your touch, the restraint he's been exerting slipping. Shiu's whimpers fill the room, his need for release palpable. His fingers bury themselves in your hair, clinging to you as you drive him closer to the edge.

Finally, it happens. His body shudders, his hips bucking into your hand as he comes, the warmth of his seed coating your skin. A wave of relief washes over him, his grip loosening as he slumps back into the couch.

You release his nipple, your lips wet from your actions, your hand cradling his spent length. The intimacy of the act hangs heavy in the air, the boundaries you've crossed looming in the aftermath.

The scene is one of vulnerability, a shared secret now binding the two of you in a way that was previously unimaginable. The intensity of the moment is palpable, a new world opened by your exploration, your actions irrevocably changing the dynamic between you and Shiu.

◈ HIGURUMA HIROMI

You're sitting in your room, the dim light of dusk seeping through the curtains, painting shadows on the walls. Today, Mother's Day, should be brimming with warmth and love, but instead, it feels hollow and icy.

To compound matters, Hiromi, your stepfather, who should be offering solace, is absent too, absorbed in his work as usual. You know he's out there, tackling cases, serving justice to others, but in doing so, he's left you here, isolated, submerged in sadness. While a part of you comprehends his dedication to his job, right now, all you can feel is fury and bitterness.

You want to unleash your frustration on him, to question why he's not by your side, why he's prioritizing work over family on such an important day. But instead, you find yourself curled up on your bed, tears streaming down your face, the pain in your heart escalating with each passing second.

Hiromi returns home, greeted by an eerie silence. Something about it unsettles him, and he makes his way to your room, curiosity piqued. The moment he opens the door, he hears your quiet sobs, and his steps falter.

"Y/N?" he calls softly, his heart beginning to race.

You're curled up on your bed, tears streaming down your face, your posture tense with anger and sadness. Hiromi hurriedly rushes over and wraps his arms around you, lifting you gently from the bed in a warm embrace.

Your tiny hands attempt to push him away, your voice trembling with emotion.. "Put me downn! Leave me alone!"

Hiromi sets you back on your feet, but he doesn't move away. He waits, giving you space to compose yourself. "Why, baby?" he asks gently. "Why are you crying?"

You glare at him, wiping your nose roughly with the back of your hand. "Tis' mother's day, and you were not here for me." The words come out harshly, your tone betraying the vulnerability beneath. "It's not fair. No one ever thinks about me."

Hiromi's heart aches as he listens to your accusations. He reaches for you, gently pulling you close once more. "I'm sorry," he says sincerely, his voice a soft murmur against your hair. "I should have been here with you."

You tense up at his touch, unsure whether to lean into him or resist. He waits patiently, giving you time to process your emotions. "I know today is a difficult day," Hiromi continues, his arms still wrapped around you. "But I'm here now. Let me make it up to you."

Hiromi takes off his suit and crawls into bed beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as you lay on your side. "I'm really sorry for not being here for you today. I promise to make it up to you from now on."

He leans in to press a chaste kiss to your forehead, then another to your temple. His lips trail down your neck, and he inhales deeply, taking in your scent. His words are a soothing whisper against your skin.

"I love you, and I'm always here for you, even when I'm not. You're my little girl, and I want to protect and care for you, always."

As he continues to shower you in affection, your anger starts to dissipate, replaced by a warmth in your chest. An idea forms in your mind, one that surprises even you. "Can I suck them, Daddy?" You point to Hiromi's nipples, catching him off guard.

His eyes widen, but there's a flicker of curiosity and desire in them. "I should take a shower before," he says, attempting to brush off your request.

Without giving him time to change his mind, you're already leaning forward, unbottoning his shirt, your tongue already tracing circles around one of his nipples. He's caught off guard by your boldness, but it's clear he's enjoying the sensation.

Hiromi's hand threads through your hair, fingers sifting through the soft strands as you lavish attention on his nipple. "Mmm, Y/N..," he breathes out, his voice thick with pleasure. "S-shit" His other hand slides down your back, his fingers kneading your flesh and pressing you closer to him. You smile against his skin, feeling in control for once.

As you continue to lavish attention on his nipple, you can't help but feel a jolt of satisfaction from the way he arches into your touch. His chest rises and falls with heavier breaths, signs of arousal that spur you on.

Hiromi's hand tightens in your hair, his grip firm yet gentle. "Is this my punishment?," he whispers, his tone laced with playful admonishment. "But I can't deny I enjoy this."

Determined to make him suffer your playful punishment, you suck harder on Hiromi's nipple, nibbling on it gently. His moan fills the room, and you can't help but smirk against his skin.

"Fine, fine," he gasps, his voice thick with desire. "You win. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'll take a day off just to spend it with you."

A triumphant smile spreads across your face as you pull away from his chest. Hiromi's admission of defeat is all the reward you need. "I'll be back after taking a shower," he tells you, his voice a sultry rumble.

Pouting, you lay back down on the bed, your mind already racing with ideas for the day he's promised you. You can't help but feel a thrill of excitement at the thought of spending an entire day with your stepdad.

As Hiromi heads to the shower, his thoughts aren't as chaste as they should be. The way you'd worshipped his nipple, sucking and nibbling, has left him aroused. He tries to quell his erection, his hand wrapping tightly around his cock.

His other hand moves to his nipples, lightly pinching them as he strokes himself. The shower's warm spray hits him, and Hiromi lets out a ragged sigh, giving into the pleasure as he continues to stroke himself, each motion a reenactment of the sensations you'd provided. He moans, his hips bucking slightly as he paints the shower tiles with his release.

Once he's cleaned up, Hiromi steps out of the shower, a satisfied grin tugging at the corners of his lips. He finds you sleeping peacefully in bed, a sight that fills him with affection.

Carefully, he dresses, then crawls into bed. Wrapping his arms around you, Hiromi rests his chin on top of your head, breathing in your scent. His body is lulled into a deep slumber by the soft rise and fall of your chest against his.

The thought of leaving you again is no longer an option. The memory of your playful punishment lingers, a reminder of how much it meant to you to have his undivided attention. Hiromi vows to make the most of the day he's promised you, never daring to leave you alone again on such a precious day.

◈ CHOSO KAMO

Choso was in the middle of his usual routine when he heard your soft sobs. He drops everything and rushes to you, finding you in tears. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asks, wrapping his arms around you.

You tell him that it's Mother's Day today and that you miss your mother. He feels your pain, and his heart aches for you. "You miss your mom, huh?"

He cradles you close, cooing softly as you cry into his chest. "It's okay to miss her. I do too, you know. She was a great woman." Choso strokes your hair, trying to calm your sobs. "She'd want us to be happy and continue living our lives." Even his eyes well up with tears, but he holds them back.

When you finally stop crying, Choso leads you to your room, a comforting smile on his face. "Alright, sleep baby. It's night time, and you need to rest."

He turns to leave, but you stop him with your request, "P-please stay with me tonight".

Choso's eyes soften as he understands your need for comfort. "Of course. I'll stay with you tonight, little one."

He lies down beside you, making sure you're tucked in and comfortable. He wraps an arm around your waist, his hand resting on your hip, giving you the feeling of security. "Go to sleep. Daddy's right here," he whispers, closing his eyes to keep vigil over you while you drift off to dreamless slumber. He's never felt so protective and nurturing towards another person, but he's always willing to do it for your sake.

Afte a while, you turn to face Choso, seeing him awake as well. He notices your distress and gently caresses your head. "Not sleeping yet?" His voice is soft and comforting, trying to reassure you.

You shake your head, admitting that you can't fall asleep. Choso cups your face, looking you straight in the eye. "Come on, baby. You don't need anybody else when I'm here. You're safe, and I'll always protect you." He tries to sing softly, but it's more of a hum. Your laughter at his attempt to serenade you makes Choso blush, and you kiss him on the cheek, your hands roaming his chest.

The thin fabric of his shirt reveals hardened nipples, and you can't help but notice. "They're hardening," you whisper, your fingers brushing over them. Choso's eyes widen, unsure of what you're referring to. "What?"

You grin at his confusion, leaning in closer. "Your nipples." With that, you take one into your mouth, sucking gently through his thin shirt. Choso gasps, the unexpected sensation sending shivers down his spine. "Y/N..." he murmurs, unsure of how to react. He's never experienced anything like this before, and your intrusive thoughts have led to a new discovery between the two of you. Choso's body is reacting in ways he doesn't fully understand, but his protectiveness and care for you haven't wavered.

Choso's cock twitches as he lets out a soft moan, whimpering like a baby at the sensation. You're enticed by his reaction, pushing his top away to suck his nipple directly. He arches his back, a string of curses escaping his lips. "G-goddammit, fuck! Hngh!" His body tenses as he accidentally cums in his pants, panting heavily.

Surprised by his reaction, you straddle him and continue sucking his nipples, your hands stroking his slicky shaft, now free from his pants. Choso gasps, feeling a heightened sensitivity. "Baby, no more. I get it. You miss your mom. Now stop," he whimpers, his hands attempting to pull you off. His efforts are in vain.

You continue to play with his cum-covered cock and lick his neck, moving back to his nipples. Sucking them as if you're a milk pump, you enjoy the reaction you're getting from Choso. His body writhes underneath you, a mix of pleasure and discomfort.

He's never experienced anything like this, and the intense emotions he's feeling are growing. Despite his attempts to stop you, he's also enjoying your attention, the line between pain and pleasure blurred.

Choso's hips thrust against your hand as his fingers wraps around your head, urging you to suck his nipples harder. Your other hand pinches his other nipple, tease his earlobes. The sensory overload is too much, causing him to cum again, this time all over your hand.

You pull your mouth away, both of you breathing heavily. You giggle, feeling a sense of satisfaction from your actions. Choso looks at you, panting, as if you're a devilish baby. He can't help but laugh along with you, the tension breaking.

You both collapse into each other, exhausted and satisfied. The night air envelops you as you fall into a deep sleep, the events of the night unfolding a new connection between Choso and you. His protectiveness has blossomed into something deeper, subtly changing the dynamic between the two of you.

dividers from @/cafekitsune

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ivystoryweaver · 2 days

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a/n: Mother's Day can be anything from trauma revisited, grief old and new, dashed hopes, all the way to the most exhilarating overflow of love and joy, and anything in between. I acknowledge you, wherever you are, whatever your feelings.

This is a short story about the Moon Knight system sharing a life with the mother of their children. If that is for you, today, then enjoy. If not, I wish you a wonderful day with much love.

Pairing: Moon Dads! Steven Grant x mother!reader, Marc Spector x mother!reader. (Jake is mentioned). The story does not state that this reader has given birth to these children, nor the reader's gender, so anyone who could ever feel like a mother would be included here.

Word Count: 1.7k

Content: MOON DADS!! fluff, domestic fluff, kids, married life, it's Mother's Day, kissing, mentions of food and eating, there is a tinge of angst-ish, as Wendy Spector is mentioned, but this is not an angsty fic. This story is what I wish for the Moon Boys IF this is what they would want. They deserve to heal and they deserve a family if they want one - whatever that may look like. not beta'd

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

He finds you in the kitchen early Sunday morning, standing over a hot griddle, pancakes sizzling.

Your babbling toddler wiggles in the high chair, pinching one Cheerio at a time in her chubby fingers and stuffing it into her mouth, making a kind of weird mush as she entertains herself.

You back is turned to him so you don’t realize he’s there until his arms wind around you from behind.

“You can’t cook today,” he breathes on your ear, stealthily removing the spatula from your hand.

You giggle and pretend to shrug him off. “Why not?”

“It’s Mother’s Day,” he declares, with an adoring kiss to your cheek.

“So? We have two boys about to come barreling in here,” you remind him matter-of- factly. “My present to myself is not listening to them demanding to know what’s for breakfast.”

A sliver of shame shoots through Steven's heart. He intended to wake up before you and take care of all this: breakfast and the kids. But Jake was out late last night and he accidentally overslept.

“Dada!” Lockley calls from her high chair, playfully slapping her hands down on the tray.

“Hey, sweet girl,” Steven greets his daughter, bending over to kiss her forehead. “Did you know it’s Mummy’s day?

“Ma-ma, Ma-ma, Ma-ma,” Lockley wiggles back and forth, chanting proudly.

As predicted, two energetic boys burst into the kitchen, their tousled curls an adorable mess.

“Happy Mother’s Day!” the twins shout in unison, holding up a handmade banner, constructed from about 60 post-it notes stuck together.

“Wowww,” you whistle in admiration. “Somebody’s been ransacking my office for supplies.” You wink, kneeling down to inspect their handiwork, and assuming they were unable to locate the construction paper to make this unique banner.

Then you take a closer look as Steven tends to the pancakes, finishing them up and removing them from the heat.

“Oh…” Your eyes mist over instantly when you realize the reasoning behind using such small paper to build a banner.

"There's messages on each one," Grant, the oldest twin by two minutes, shyly murmurs.

"Read 'em, read 'em, Mom!" Your energetic Jakob almost tears the feeble construct apart with his bouncing up and down.

Several of the notes boast simple messages such as, "Happy Mother's Day!" or "We love you!"

A few of them have small handprints - Mother's Day classics. There's even a tiny handprint, with LOCKLEY printed messily underneath.

"We had to write hers because she can't write," Jakob states the obvious. "But she tried to eat the Post-its."

"I'm sure she did," you chuckle, glancing over a few "coupons" where the boys have offered to load the dishwasher, fold laundry, give you a back rub and the like.

Then you notice a rather good drawing of your family under a banner reading, "The Spectors": You, holding baby Lockley. Grant and Jakob are flanking either side of you. And there are three dads pictured and labeled, Marc, Steven, Jake, underneath, "DAD" written in all caps. "MOM" is above your head.

"Grant, did you draw this, bud?" You ask your little artist, ruffling his curls.

"Yeah. It was hard to fit everyone on a Post-it, so I made it on two. So you have to keep them together...okay?" His dark eyebrows shoot up hopefully.

You nod, continuing to inspect each one.

Jake has written a few notes in Spanish and Steven left you a riddle...which led to a second riddle underneath the first one. And a third.

Jakob is giddy, dying to tell you what the riddle's answers are, but Grant silences him.

The bottom post it says, "Turn around."

Curious, you stand back up and turn to find Steven holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers in one hand and a wrapped present in the other.

"One-two-three," you hear Grant coach. Then Jakob joins in. "Surprise!" Your husband and twin sons chorus.

"Happy Mother's Day, darling," Steven smiles at you, handing you your gifts. "These are from Marc and me."

"Thank you, I love them," you accept the flowers and kiss him sweetly on the lips.

"And Jake says he's going to get Frenchie to babysit next weekend so he can take you out in the city and 'show you off.' His words."

You snort, clearly amused. "Frenchie wants to babysit these three?"

"Yay!" Jakob cheers. "Uncle Frenchie! Uncle Frenchie!"

"Fen-he!" Lockley attempts, bouncing in her chair.

"See, everyone loves the idea," Steven grins, nodding for you to open the wrapped gift. "You can wear this."

A moment later, as he places your flowers in some fresh water, you unwrap your gift.

"It's beautiful," you gasp, touching the golden necklace, bearing hieroglyphs.

"It represents motherhood," Steven gushes. "Here, I made sure to get the paper that explains it all."

"Thank you." Wrapping your arms around his neck you hug him tightly. "Will you put it on me?"

Steven obliges, and you turn back to your boys. "What do you guys think?"

"It's pretty, Mom," Grant sweetly replies.

But Jakob has already dropped his half of the banner and is reaching for a pancake when Steven clears his throat pointedly.

The five of you gather around the table for an all too sugary breakfast before heading out to the park to get some fresh air, let the kids play and spend some quality time together.

Lockley can't walk quite yet, so she's rolling and scooting on a blanket on the grass while Grant and Jakob play close by.

Steven has already apologized for oversleeping, but you confess that you heard Jake come home extremely late. Lockley had a fussy night, so you turned off the baby monitor not ten minutes after he fell asleep and spent most of the early morning rocking your sweet, fussy girl.

"The perfect mom, as always," Steven compliments, with a sparkle in his eye. "And the day's not over yet. There's more to come."

You tangle your fingers with his, laying your head on his shoulder. After a brief silence, you ask, "How's Marc?"

You normally don't ask one alter to deliver messages for another. Half the time, they don't know anyway. But this is Marc. On Mother's Day.

"Quiet," Steven answers. "I think he's okay."

You hum a response, handing Lockley the pacifier she spit out.

"And you, my love? How are you today?"

Because Steven lost his mom too. And not simply because she passed away, but because the mother he thought was his was not real. Parts of her were real, to Steven anyway. The parts from childhood when she wasn't drunk, wasn't violent.

Those were Steven's memories to hold.

But he lost who he thought she was, as well.

"I'm better this year. Better every year," he nods, eyes focused on his twins playing together. "Get to spend this day with the best mum there is."

He gazes over at you adoringly.

"Thank you," you whisper, sealing your mouth to his.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Later that evening, after you and Steven have wrangled three kids into bed, you decide to take a quick shower.

When you emerge, Marc is waiting for you with a glass of wine.

"Happy Mother's Day," his dark eyes flicker down the curves of your body and he wets his lips.

"Marc," you breathe, taking the wine glass from his hand and setting it aside so you can throw your arms around him. "I didn't think I would see you today."

His strong forearms flex against your back, pulling you closer. "I'm here. Did you get the flowers?"

"Yeah they're on the dining room table. Thank you, they're beautiful."

"Good." Easing back, he kisses your mouth, before taking your hand and retrieving your wine glass. "Come on."

The sound of the record player drifts faintly down the hall, welcoming you into the den, where Marc has built a fire.

"I know it's May, but I turned the air down low," he explains, answering your quizzical look. "I know how much you love a fire."

You beam at him as he leads you to sit down on the plush rug in front of the fireplace. There's a tray with some adult-worthy snacks, like - the nice brand of cheese and fancy chocolates.

"No kids allowed," he winks, knowing you're always the one to give up the last pancake or slice of pizza for your children, or for him.

"Oooh, okay, this almost feels like an anniversary." You reach for a chocolate as the two of you get comfortable.

"Too much?" He questions, dark eyes focused intently on the way your lips wrap around the candy.

"Owh naw - its puwfect," you mumble, mouth stuffed full of a truffle.

Marc laughs, nodding mockingly, but playfully. "Sexy."

"I know," you humph, finishing your treat. "But today's my day. I don't have to be sexy."

"You couldn't help that if you tried," he smoothly counters, reaching up with his thumb to swipe chocolate from the corner of your mouth.

"You're really racking up the points here, babe, like, this is..." You glance all around you before taking a swig of your wine. "This is good. Really good."

"I thought you could use some kid-free time," he explains, "With your favorite things - without Jakob eating them all first."

You share a laugh, knowing it's true. Jakob is barely a middle child, but he certainly acts like one.

"If you want some alone time, just say the word," Marc adds, a bit reluctantly. "I just want you to be able to relax."

Setting down your wine glass, you pull him close by his t-shirt. "Don't you dare. You're mine."

You surge forward to meet his lips in a hungry kiss, the wine and the pampering treatment truly reminding you of more of a romantic anniversary setting than anything else.

Marc hums against your lips, cupping your face in his hand as you deepen the kiss, licking open the seam of his mouth to taste him. The wine and the chocolate and the essence of your husband soothes and calms you equally as you melt into his arms.

"Thank you," you whisper, rubbing your nose against his as you part for air. "Thank you for making me a mother."

He touches his forehead to yours and earnestly returns, "Thank you for showing me what a mother can be."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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#happy mother's day #mother's day #mother's day fic #moon knight #moon dads #moon dads x reader #steven grant #marc spector #x reader #mcu

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r4d1c4lw31rd0 · 3 days

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Unseen Grave (Yandere!Venture x Reader)

My first post and it's about Venture LOLZ- I've never used tumblr before, I kinda just skim through here on occasion for cool art, writing for some of my favorite characters, and headcanons- Sorry if this is bad- This is also on AO3! I don't mind any requests either, can't promise to get to them quickly though-

CW: Minor Character death, implied/referenced past non/con, dead dove kinda, stalking, non graphic violence, skippable NSFW (This isn't non-con), a kinda abrupt ending, OOC Mauga, No use of Y/N, Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Your POV

Where did all of this go wrong? You only ever wanted to live a normal and happy life. Forced into a world of crime, you made it your mission to get yourself and your comrades out of this hell hole. This slimy, sludgy pit you all had seemed perpetually stuck in, but you knew there was better out there. You could all live that lavish and carefree life you always dreamed of, you just had to claw your way to it. So when Mauga approached you, you saw it as an opportunity. Talon spotted your talent, your knack for creating poisons and toxins capable of killing or simple paralysis. Why they sent this big brute you’d never understand.

He held his hand out to you, that devious smirk on his dashing features captivating you like no other, drawing you in like a fly to a honeypot. You couldn’t see the web just inches from it though, nor could you see the spider eyeing you and waiting patiently for you to get stuck in its home. He gave you an offer you simply couldn’t ignore. A whole new identity and payment beyond what you could fathom, more than petty pocket change for simple side hustles, no you’d be playing in the big leagues. If you impressed Doomfist himself enough that is. All you had to do was complete a rather simple task and the position was all yours.

Despite what you’d heard about Mauga, he was quite tricky and conniving with his words. The smartest? Not by a long shot. He couldn’t quite comprehend the big words you used, but he could read you like an open book, and that was enough for him. The smallest twitch or glance was all he needed to know almost exactly what you were thinking and just how much more persuasion you were going to need. A true predator cornering its prey.

If you knew then what you know now, you never would’ve agreed. Then again, Talon may not have let you off the hook so easily. It may have cost you your life. You agreed to the simple mission, poisoning an important political figure and rendering him desperate enough to turn to Talon for a cure. Your unique little toxins could only be cured by you, considering they were abominations to medical science and were something entirely new and original all together. The mere fact that you only had to change one component to make it cause different effects was something you were proud of.

You didn’t doubt yourself in the slightest, so when word of your success was all over the news you felt your pride and ego swell. Doomfist had introduced you into a new world, one where the pay was greater and the tasks were challenging enough for a brilliant mind like yours. Working alongside Dr. O’deorain was fascinating, considering it was she who had inspired you to push the boundaries of the medical world. At the time, Talon seemed like it would give you everything you needed, but blinded by that desire for more and where it could take you you didn’t see it for what it truly was. Just as much of a hell hole as the rest of the world had been.

They squashed your hopes of getting somewhere, of having peace and calm rather than the hustle and bustle of the streets. No, working for them you never knew any kind of peace. A sense of hate began to form inside of you, alongside resentment. Watching them turn your brilliance into mush and treat it as if it was the common whore was devastating. They had the audacity to demand better from you. Working with Talon, you began to develop the belief that a life of crime and hate was your only option, that staying in this pit was the only option for you. The heinous acts you committed just to gain a lick of fortune was the only thing you’d ever be good for. Of course, you blamed Mauga for all of it. He had gotten you into Talon after all with his stupid face and smug words.

You had found yourself in some kind of relationship with him. He never said you two were together but he surely acted like it, getting irritable when others flirted with you or tried to ask you out. The relationship hadn't been the best nor the healthiest, but at the time you were just happy someone wanted you and didn't view you as a monster because of things you couldn't control. He called you so many sweet names, complimented you when Doomfist tried to put you down and offered you a place to run to in any time of need. It was all for his own advantage of course, but you didn’t know that. You just knew you could be vulnerable with him. You were unaware that you’d finally crept too close to the spider's web. No, he wasn’t a spider, he was a wolf. And you were a lamb, strayed too far from the safety of the herd and right into the wolf’s den.

Needless to say, he took advantage of you and your trust in him. The whole time you two were entangled in your complex relationship, he was almost always borderline violent with you and was very hot and cold with you, treating you as if you were some kind of dog that needed to be trained. You complied with almost everything he asked of you, and even when you didn't he forced you to anyway. Countless nights you lay next to him feeling used like some cheap toy for a rabid animal, and yet you stayed. Because Talon was all you had. Because he was all you had. No one was coming to save a monster, especially not one as sneaky and atrocious as you.

In the end, when you finally had enough, Mauga broke you down and ripped your heart to shreds. He called you so many awful names, told you how much he despised you and watched you crumble with disgusting glee. It hurt. Even though he had treated you so poorly, you were still so distraught by his words and callous behavior. The fact that you were readily available for him was the only reason he kept you around, to be a punching bag and plaything when he felt like it. His betrayal fueled a kind of rage you didn’t know you were capable of feeling, and made you realize for the first time that this world was cruel no matter where you looked at it from and you were stuck in an echo chamber of miserable people. Maybe that's why they let you spiral. Used that rage and hurt against you, and made you numb to everything because it was just easier that way. It kept them from picking at your vulnerability any longer, from seeing you as weak..

You weren’t cared for in the slightest at Talon and you were just fine with that. You didn’t need to be babied or coddled anymore than you had when you were first introduced to this raunchy life, especially not by people who were as disingenuous and callous as your “co-workers”. The only one who showed a hint of sympathy or empathy was Dr. Kuiper and Sombra, probably some of the only people in that place capable of expressing such a thing.You couldn’t complain. You still made money so long as you did what was asked of you and didn’t retaliate when you were degraded for your progress or your work. You were pretty sure things took a turn when you met Sloane, who at the time was “Venture” to you.

Pesky, annoying, and constantly getting in the way of your mission to find some artifact for Doomfist from some kind of ancient gravesite. The two of you were naturally enemies, being on opposite sides and all. And yet they intrigued you. Their happy-go-lucky manner and their quippy remarks as they effortlessly kicked the asses of your useless “assistants” you didn’t understand why Doomfist bothered sending. Truthfully, you could’ve accomplished the mission just as well on your own. You probably would’ve killed them too if Overwatch hadn’t shown up. Just as annoying as ever, they helped finish off the rest of your shitty squad, leaving you running off to hide like a dog with its tail between its legs. That mission you had been left behind, abandoned like an injured pup and left to fend for yourself. Badly injured, you would have cared less if you died. Sitting and stewing in your own misery had made you indifferent to life or death.

Doomfist didn’t want to lose you as an asset, but your location didn’t provide him any opportunity to send you an escape route, so you were stuck slinking about the Petra ruins, avoiding the ever-watchful eyes of Overwatch and the Wayfinders as you waited for your wounds to take you out. You’d only been caught because that insufferable archaeologist found you. You were dehydrated with infected wounds, and even then you still bared your teeth at their approach. They had been on guard at first, but seeing you in such a pathetic state had made them take pity on you, something you hadn’t been gracious enough to receive since you were a child.

Taken to the on-site medical facility, you were put under watch but nonetheless you were cared for. You were unfit to go to jail and serve for your crimes right away, so you were stuck there with the Wayfinders, under their care until you could be sent off. For whatever reason, Venture had stuck with you whenever they could, offering short conversation that was mostly one-sided. You didn’t talk much and only glared, uncomfortable with the hospitality. You would’ve preferred if they were rude to you. It was what you were used to. Three days was all it took for you to finally crack. Three days of consistent visits and kind words. Naturally, you were hesitant. Last time you had opened yourself up you were burnt terribly, and had been several times before. Kindness was a poison to you, and yet they made it so desirable. Their genuinity with it and the way they handed it out so easily had you craving it.

After about a month you had completely recovered, well enough to finally go serve for your crimes. The last day you and Venture spent together, you had taken their hand, feeling its warmth as you pressed a small kiss to the back of it. Their flustered reaction made you laugh for the first time since becoming what you were, and it was warm and joyous.

“Thank you, Sloane.” You whispered, refusing to look at them. You didn’t want them to see you cry. “You’ve been so kind to me, even though I’m so undeserving of it. I wish things were different. I wish we’d met before . . . everything.”

“Not everyone deserves a second chance.” Their words stung, making you shrink in on yourself slightly. “But, you’re . . . different. I don’t think you ever really wanted to do the things you did.”

You looked up at them. They saw you, truly saw you, what you were beneath the muck that had clung to you and thickly coated your skin. Something about the way they looked at you gently made you want to melt and embrace them, but you didn’t, still too timid to trust completely.

“You’re not a bad guy, you were just forced into a shitty situation. Try not to be so hard on yourself.” Their smile wasn’t as wide as it usually was, but it was still filled with just as much charisma and warmth.

Looking back on it, you believe it was this small interaction that led to the actions after. That simple and innocent act of gratitude. If not that, then you weren’t sure what, but you could recall that new glint in their eyes when they watched you get taken away. The way their gaze lingered far longer than it ever had. The way they subtly caressed the hand you kissed.

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

Your time in jail wasn’t bad, made better by the fact that you received letters and small gifts and pictures from Sloane. The letters were innocent to you at the time, but thinking back on it the signs were there. You wrote back, sent small handmade gifts of your own, and kept every picture and ecstatic letter they sent you from each of their journeys that they shared with you. Unfamiliar with the whole concept of having someone truly care about you, you didn’t notice anything weird. You fought a bit with the other inmates who tried their hand at intimidating the newbie, especially with how widespread your reputation had become working with Talon. You had believed yourself doomed to rot there, considering you had attacked several political figures, harmed many innocents, and stolen that much more. You’d also broken Hippocratic Oath and used your research for worse.

But like some unwanted blessing, you found yourself hightailing it out of there early. Talon had come back for you, after abandoning you for months, and before you would’ve run back to them with open arms. Things were different now though, you had changed for the better and knew going back promised nothing but misery. You ran the second you could, barely escaping but escaping nonetheless. Hiding in a sewer wasn’t ideal but it helped you get away from that prison and away from Talon. The one good thing they could’ve done for you, and probably the last. You knew now though that they would be looking for you. Doomfist would be pissed, knowing he wasted valuable time and resources trying to get you out of prison just for you to run off, but that was his own problem. You never asked for his help, perfectly content with rotting in a cell but now gifted a chance of freedom. With nowhere to go though, you turned to the only person you felt you could trust. The one person who made you feel some sense of normalcy.

Going to Sloane was a huge gamble, considering that you were still a wanted criminal and they were pretty much some kind of vigilante hero type. It took you forever to get to Petra, but you managed, lying in wait until you could talk to Sloane again. In the dead of night, you startled them awake, covering their mouth to prevent them from shouting.

“Shhhh. It’s just me.” You whispered, letting their sleepy eyes adjust to the dark, watching them widen at the sight of you. “Follow.”

The simple command was all they needed as they trailed after you, the two of you finding a quiet little spot away from the dig site to speak freely. Sloane was dressed in a form fitting tank top, allowing you to see the various tattoos that decorated their muscular arms, but you tried not to oogle too much.

“W-What are you doing here? I thought you were in prison? . . .” Sloane spoke slowly, voice still laced with the smallest inklings of sleep as they yawned, pushing stray strands of hair from their face.

“Talon came for me.” You saw them tense, scrambling to finish explaining. “I ran though. They don’t know I’m here, but they are searching for me, and I-” your voice caught in your throat as you swallowed thickly. “I can’t go back.”

You never told Venture the full story of your time at Talon, just that it was awful. They didn’t know about Mauga, didn’t know what was said to you, or any of what you had experienced. It was difficult to bring up. What they did know was that you weren’t treated kindly, and that was enough for them.

“I just need somewhere to hide so I can create a new identity for myself. I just want to live a normal life. That’s all I want.” You stumbled forward, taking a hold of their hands, steady in your trembling ones. “I can’t trust anyone else to keep me hidden. Please, I promise you’ll never have to hear from me, I won’t cause anyone any harm, I just-”

Your desperate ranting was cut off as they pulled you into a tight hug. Their scent was calming, earthy and refreshing. They held you gently, a solid rock amidst the swirling storm of emotion you felt. You weren’t sure how to react, arms shaking as you cautiously hugged them back. You felt safe. Accepted. Warm. You began to hitch as your legs buckled and gave out, taking both of you to the ground as you buried your face into their shoulder. How long has it been since you allowed yourself to cry like this? Ugly sobs wrench their way free from your body as they hold you, rubbing slow and calming circles between your shoulder blades.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to be afraid anymore. You’re safe with me, I promise.” They spoke in a hushed tone, accepting you as you were. “You don’t gotta explain anything to me right now, all that can come later.”

They shifted so that they could hold you more comfortably, letting you cry into them without complaint. When you calmed down, you leaned back, their arms slowly falling from you as you stared down at your lap, furiously wiping away tears. You sniffled slightly, before their hands came into view, holding yours.

“You’ll rub your face raw if you keep doing that, it’s okay to be not okay, camarada.” They were gentle with you, scooting closer to you. “I’d be happy to help you out, especially if it’ll bring you some peace. You deserve at least that much, and you’ve more than proven that you deserve it. Apologies won’t make up for much though, there’s only so far words will take you. You gotta make an effort to do better.”

You looked up to meet their gaze, warm brown eyes scanning your face. You didn’t feel judged, and instead could feel that love and care you always so desperately searched for. You did have a long way to go if you even wanted to atone for a fraction of what you had done, but you were aware no amount of repenting would fix anything. You still did what you did, and there was nothing you could do to fix it. And yet, here in Venture’s arms, you felt so sure that things would get better, especially with them at your side. So distracted by your thoughts and their comfort, you barely registered the way they looked at you with a burning possession and the way their smile slightly faltered when you removed yourself from their hold.

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

Venture POV

Six months. For six, sweet months Venture had you all to themself. It was a miracle of some kind, it had to be. When the two of you had been separated they could hardly stand it, they wanted to go to you and take you from that prison themself. Hide you away from the world where only they could find you. But they had a reputation to uphold, and they wouldn’t be doing anyone much good if they were in prison with you. When you had first arrived all that time ago, Sloane had thought of you as a bad guy working for talon and nothing more, but when they talked to you in the infirmary, they could tell you were different. When you kissed their hand so sweetly, holding back tears, they felt their heart nearly explode.

At first they were scared and confused. These feelings were new and foreign, they’d never felt this way about anyone else before. But you . . . you lit a new fire in them they didn’t know existed, and they wanted more. They wanted you, but you were gone, so they made do with letters and sending you gifts. They remembered when you finally started writing back they could hardly contain themself, not to mention when you sent the little gifts you made by hand. Countless nights Sloane had spent thinking about you, depressed by the thought that they’d never get to touch or hold you. They tossed and turned dreaming about what it would be like to have you next to them instead, but it did nothing to soothe the growing flames of their obsession with you.

And then right out of thin air you appeared, needing them. It had to be fate, the way you came back to them like a lost dog, dependent upon them and their helping hand. Talon had finally done a good thing for them, and that was bringing you two together again. They had been more than willing to do anything for you, but you were so shy and timid. They had to be careful, or else you’d run off and never come back. They had to put on a facade, but was it really a facade when it felt so genuine with you? Because they did care about you, they’d go so far as to say that they loved you. However, they knew you were fragile, knew that this pillar of trust they had built up could be snapped in an instant if you caught a whiff of how they truly felt, because no matter how right this felt to Venture, they knew it was wrong . They had to do this the right way, and that meant keeping their feelings for you a secret.

At first, there wasn’t much to worry about. They had you all to themself by default, considering if anyone saw you they’d send you right back to prison. As they had promised, they kept you hidden away from the prying eyes of everyone at the dig site, whisked away where they wouldn’t find you while they helped you rebuild. They helped you change your appearance, making you look different than what you were before but still vaguely the same. They gave you a place to rest your head, and provided you with food and water. They took care of you, like any good partner would. You probably didn’t see it that way, but Sloane had convinced themself you would with due time. You’d recognize their effort and fall into their arms. You’d let them touch you more, and you’d open up to them and share all your secrets like good partners did. But you didn’t.

No matter what they did, you always seemed to be so far from their reach, withdrawing from their attempts to touch or soothe you when you clearly needed it, and each time they respected that boundary, though patience was wearing thin. You were so close, how could they not want to touch you? They always made due with taking things of yours. Articles of clothing in particular that smelled strongly of you. They loved your smell. It was a unique scent, and they always felt so perverted sniffing your shirts in private. The shame fueled their hunger though, and occasionally they’d get bold enough to take your underwear. Not often, but when they really wanted to.

When you finally cultivated a new identity, they helped you get a job at the Petra site, if only to keep you closer to them. You may have been part of the bio-archaeology team, but you were still theirs. They had been concerned at first, afraid that someone there might catch your eye and take you away from them, but you did wonders in keeping people away. The others might have called you ‘rude’ and ‘scary’, but Venture knew the true you, them and them alone. You kept the rest of the world at bay, and kept them close.

If it wasn’t obvious before, it was now. The two of you were clearly meant for each other, and everyday that passed that you still treated them as a simple friend pained them more and more. Why couldn’t you see what the two of you had? You still tortured them, tempting them to get closer, close enough to touch. Sloane was content playing a well-behaved best friend, but they couldn’t explain that aching desire for more that coiled in their gut as time ticked by.

Despite their own turmoil, you were happy and that was all that mattered. As upsetting as it was seeing you start to open up with others, they couldn’t deny that the look on your face was worth it. Nothing compared to what they could make you feel, but it satisfied them knowing that you were getting what you wanted and what they had promised you’d have. Peace. And they planned on keeping it that way. You believed that Talon couldn’t find you. But the truth was they had, and tried several times to take you away and back into their nasty clutches. But every time, Sloane was there to stop them, dispatching them all with ease. Every time they rammed their drill into a talon goons body, piercing and mangling their flesh, they always thought of you. How this was all for you and only you.

Every bone broken, scream muffled, and skull cracked beneath a boot was all done in your name. These guys wanted to take you back to a place that hurt you, wipe that sweet precious smile off your face forever and undo all of Sloane’s progress. Sloane didn’t feel bad watching their blood stain their clothes because they deserved it, and if they could they would’ve killed every single person working for Talon, but they needed to stay here with you to keep a watchful eye and keep you blissfully unaware. These disgusting bastards wouldn’t ruin you again, not if Venture had anything to say about it.

Tonight was no different as they carelessly tossed more mangled bodies into a ravine, a small smirk of satisfaction evident on their features. How many more would they send before they stopped trying? Then again, it always gave them a rush when they took out these idiots, thinking about how grateful you’d be to them if you knew. Sometimes, when you pulled away they wanted to drag you closer, shake you and confess everything. Confess their love, the things they’d done to those Talon goons who were trying to snag you, maybe then you’d appreciate them. Perhaps you’d even reciprocate their love.

It was becoming too much for them to bear, and as ashamed as they were of the action, they had tried to get closer to you while you were sleeping. They always wanted to consider that it would be the perfect moment to get close to you. They underestimated how light of a sleeper you were though, panicking when you opened your eyes and caught them right in the act. They had to come up with an excuse, one that you surprisingly believed before they excused themself. It wasn’t their proudest moment, but at least they knew not to try it again. You were sleeping now, tired from the day's events, but Sloane lay wide awake in their bed, twitching with anticipation. They hadn’t seen you most of the day, with both of you being busy. As much as they loved what they did, Sloane loved you more.

They wanted to visit you now more than ever, feeling hot and bothered after dispatching those goons, but knowing damn well you wouldn’t allow it. They thought about it several times, coming to you after finishing them off, covered in their blood and giving you a kiss. Your hands roaming them as you praised them for their work. They huffed softly, hands grabbing at their shirt as they flipped over.

~NSFW START~

They were feeling particularly needy tonight, pulling out a shirt of yours they had recently taken. They pressed it to their nose, inhaling deeply and taking in your delectable scent. It still smelled so strongly of you, and it brought them inexplicable joy. They practically salivated over it, breath coming out in whiny gasps. They sat up slightly, taking their pillow and pushing it beneath their body. They let out a soft growl as their hips grinded against the pillow, imagining it to be you instead as they closed their eyes and sniffed again. They shuddered as they let out a breath, whimpering as they continued to grind some more against the pillow.

They thought about how vocal you could be, imaging your hands roaming over their muscles, massaging them as you went. Your legs wrapping around them as they provided you with pleasure, your face contorting in ways they could only cause. The praise you’d give as they followed your every command. Sloane moaned softly as they humped the pillow faster, rougher, free hand curling into the sheets as they pressed their face further into your shirt.

“Joder querido por favor~ I need you~” They whispered the words in a hushed tone, slowing their pace for a moment. “ He sido tan bueno, lo prometo~”

Gods, they could imagine how you would feel, body pressed against theirs, flesh touching flesh as the sound of your love would reverberate through the room. The two of you could care less who would hear, it would just be the both of you in the moment. The marks they would leave on you, nipping at as much exposed flesh as they could, marking you up and claiming you as theirs. You’d beg them for more and they’d happily oblige, giving you what you wanted. They could be gentle, or they could be rough. They could pin your hands and make you squirm and beg for their touch, or perhaps you’d like to be on top, having them worship every inch of you and beg to touch you. Beg you for relief.

“Dios ya no puedo más, te necesito mucho mi amor por favor~” Their voice was high pitched and whiny, desperation laced in their tone. “Tell me how good I’ve been for you~ Fuck ~ You feel so good mi amor~ Tell me how good I make you feel~”

Their moans gradually got louder the deeper into the fantasies they sank, desperately wishing for the real thing. They could only think about how soon enough it could be you, you just needed a little more coaxing and to realize your feelings that you undoubtedly had for them. They could see it in the way you looked at them, feel it when you touched them. Your words were so gentle with them, and you were so sweet. God they couldn’t wait to have you. They’d take it as slow as you needed if only it meant you’d be closer to them. How would your lips finally feel once you let them get close enough? How would you taste?

“Mine, mine, mine. All mine. Only mine.” Their words were muffled, coming out in short growls, matching the pace they had set for themself. “Eres toda mía, mi amor, toda mía~” The words came out in a chant, laying some unknown claim on you for their own sake and sanity.

Sloane slowed their movement against the pillow, thinking about how whiny you’d get when they went slower than you liked, and then picked up again in the same beat to keep you on your toes. Their thrusts got rougher as they groaned, panting desperately as they approached their climax, their last few thrusts desperate as they let out one last cry, sweat dripping from their body as they relaxed, nuzzling their face into your shirt.

~NSFW END~

Sloane instantly felt much more relaxed, feeling the tension leave their body. Such a mess they’d made. They thought about laying next to you, giving you soft kisses and praise as they cleaned you up and snuggled close to go to bed. Unfortunately, they weren’t with you and couldn’t sleep while being such a mess. They lifted themself from their bed, tucking your shirt away again for a later date. For now, they needed to clean themself up, grabbing a towel as they headed for the showers. In due time the two of you would be together. You’d recognize your love for them, and they’d be waiting for you with open arms, no matter how long it took. Until then, they were content just being near you, protecting you from afar.

#writers #overwatch #overwatch 2 #venture x reader #venture overwatch #sloan cameron #yandere

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iamamythologicalcreature · 1 day

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Pitch Manor Progress (which is sort of like Six Sentence Sunday but also not)

It's still Sunday for five more minutes, here. SO....

Okay, I haven't written anything on the Haunting of Simon Snow in awhile. But I have been working on my floor plan for Pitch Manor, which is more than tangentially related to the potential progress of that fic. And today's a rough one for me, so I'm going to post about it like it's progress so I might feel a tad better. Ahem.

OKAY. SO. I've been working on a floor plan for Pitch Manor for... pretty much forever and a day. I ran into trouble when I was writing chapter 2 of Haunting and Simon (Construction Worker!Simon) began to describe the house. I realized... I had no idea what he was describing.

(Warning, there is a long winded geeky ramble ahead. It's just how I do things. Ahem.)

What was supposed to be a quick "let's find a floor plan that I can just copy with some minor adjustments" project has since turned into my special interest project. As a history nerd, that means a lot of research, looking at dozens of floor plans for other houses ranging in origination from the 16th century to the 20th (and probably a few older than even that, since a ton of religious buildings were repurposed into estates. Think Downton *Abbey*.)

But this past week, I feel I've really pushed through a lot of the issues I kept running into. (I've ridiculously been trying to make it as true to the descriptions in Carry On as possible, and something that fits the purposes of my fic, which of course I have envisioned in many, sometimes incompatible, ways.) I've had to make some "this or that, you can't have both" choices, but I'm finally happy with the basic shape and layout.

Whew.

Just for funsies, here's a cross section snippet of my floor plan WIP. It's pretty messy still, but I'm still excited LOL

And (finally), instead of six sentences, I will instead offer you all six tidbits of information about Pitch Manor, as I've envisioned it:

There are four (4!) different sitting rooms. Because the aristocracy just loved their sitting rooms. (Parlor, Withdrawing room, Drawing room, and Reception/Receiving room.)

There is a ballroom. Try and stop me.

The original manor house was built in the 17th century, and has been refurbished and updated a few times.

The most extensive refurbishment happened in the 19th century, which is how it gained its current stylings. (Baz is a freaking troll and I love him for it. The most popular architectural style in the Victorian era was "Gothic Revival." "It's not Gothic; it's Victorian." Hah.)

Some rooms were added on during the Victorian refurbishment, including a Smoking room. They were very popular at that time.

The largest room in the house isn't the ballroom. It's the library. (It's two stories. Try and stop me.)

(I do hope to release the floorplans into the fandom wild after they're complete, in case anyone else wants to make use of them.)

I want to ramble more. But it's almost midnight. Sooo.... Gratitude and hellos under the cut!

Thank you to @blackberrysummerblog, @shrekgogurt, @rimeswithpurple, @thewholelemon, @monbons,

and @cutestkilla for the tags. I'm looking forward to seeing what everyone is working on!

Thank you also to those of you who have willingly (I hope) listened to me ramble on about this damned project of mine for ages. Because boy howdy, do I ramble. @cutestkilla, @hushed-chorus, @artsyunderstudy, @youarenevertooold, @ic3-que3n,

@best--dress, @monbons, and @mooncello. It's good there are a few of you, that way no single poor soul has to bear the full weight of my obsession special interest. (If anyone reading this actually wants to join these ranks, hit me up on Discord XD)

Thanks also to everyone that has tagged me even when it's been ages in between progress posts from me. I appreciate being kept in the loop on what you all are up to creatively!

Hellos and howdies to @noblecorgi @bookish-bogwitch @that-disabled-princess @bazzybelle @messofthejess

@imagineacoolusername @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @prettygoododds @emeryhall @ileadacharmedlife

@valeffelees @fiend-for-culture @bubble-gumhead @brilla-brilla-estrellita @aristocratic-otter

@j-nipper-95 @whatevertheweather @ivelovedhimthroughworse @drowninginships @alexalexinii

@facewithoutheart @angelsfalling16

#six sentence sunday #pitch manor #estate houses #floor plan #simon snow trilogy #baz pitch is a troll and I adore him for it #tbf I adore him pretty easily #it's not gothic it's victorian #gothic revival #I have so many other things I'm supposed to be working on #but also I'm super excited about this #and it's given me ideas #which is the best thing #the haunting of simon snow #I ramble a lot #sorry not sorry #okay it's technically monday now but posting this anyway #jodofic

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tunastime · 1 year

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my time has come..as the ethubs enthusiast i know me asking for this is a shock. but etho and bdubs are going to win. instead. i will promise you 100 words on a fic if you send me proof you voted for jimmy.

do your part. vote jimmy solidarity

#i am NOT willing to lose jimmy so soon #if you send me tango it's also 50 words btw #vote jimmy vote tango vote ranchers #i can't draw so writing is all i have to offer #text #mcyt sexyman #mcyt sexyman vote

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clumsycapitolunicorn · 4 months

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#last time i giffed anything was october i think. i finally have the urge to gif and it's for my fave soap lesbians but i don't have access-#-to a scene pack #like i would give them like mad im not even kidding #that's all i have to offer in fandoms #me and my silly little gifs because i can't write or draw... my gifs are like ok enough #so at least i have that

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silasours · 2 months

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ৎ⸝⸝⠀COCKWARMING ! —

#pairing : lucifer, alastor, vox, valentino, x gn reader. #cw : 18+ content, mdni. unprotected sex. edging. office sex. public sex. sub/power sub reader. no mentions of specific anatomy. vox is in an online meeting for work. touch starved lucifer. val blowing his smoke on you for fun. non proofread because it's six in the fuckin morning and I have not slept a wink. #summary : in which they keep themselves buried deep inside of you while being busied by other stuff. #note : save me, I've been writing nothing but hazbin smut lately. i should really start working on other shows.. alastor's a bit shorter than the others, can't really think of a solid idea for him and I wanted to get this out as soon as possible

ʚ LUCIFER .

lucifer whines when you force him to focus on his unfinished work once again. he has been going back and forth from attempting to thrust into you, but you always found a way to press him down in his place firmly. he had some unfinished work that he left sitting in his office for almost a week now, and it irritated you. that's when you offered to cockwarm him while he worked, get him to finally get his hands on those unfinished works.

being absolutely touch starved, lucifer agreed without hesitation unaware of how miserable and impatient this will make him. his hand remain on his working desk, occasionally scribbling some words and a signature on the paper filled with printed words. he does his best to resist the urge to finally thrust into you, worried that you'd leave him unsatisfied if he doesn't do as he's told.

but there's a limit to how much he can contain himself, especially when he has you sitting on his lap with his cock stuffing you to the brim, when you'd tease him so often by clenching around him or moving your hips ever so slightly. lucifer whines every time, the hand that's placed on your hip squeezing on your flesh desperately.

"can i please.. just finish this up later?" his voice muffled from nuzzling his face into your shoulder, eyes closed shut to focus on the warmth engulfing his throbbing member. you let out a small chuckle, baring your teeth into his neck to draw out those pretty moans of his; his cock leaks pathetically inside of you.

"no can do, luci. you're not going to get whatever you want until you finish up." you pull away and tilt your head slightly, pressing a soft kiss onto his jaw while giving a quick glance at the papers sprawled across his desk. he's only halfway done with them. "you're doing pretty well, no? you're halfway done."

lucifer groans, annoyed as he picks up the pen from the desk again while reading through the papers. this time, you decide to tease him a little more instead of staying still. you connect your lips with his exposed neck, sucking on the sensitive skin as your hips slowly grind against his. you hear his breath hitch, his knuckles turning white from how hard he's gripping you.

your name spills out from his lips breathlessly, following with a whimper that you love so much. you carry on with your actions, dark marks gradually bloom all over his skin like breathtaking flowers. lucifer shifts to lay his forehead on your shoulder, shuddering from pleasure; you tug on his soft hair, firm enough to lift his head up from your shoulder.

"stay focused, luci. remember what's waiting for you to finish your work."

ʚ ALASTOR .

"oh, what a twist!" alastor exclaims with his eyes glued to the book he's reading, chuckling like you're not clenching down on his cock out of desperation. your eyes are teary as you turn to peek at the page he's on, frustration brewing in your chest. upon noticing your reaction, alastor laughs while moving his hand to cup your face, leaning in with a grin. "don't you agree, my dear?"

you groan, parting your lips further enough to drop his thumb into your mouth, biting down on it. alastor mutters a small "fiesty" before buckling up his hips, watching your eyes widen from the sudden pleasure that shoots up your veins. his arm tightens around your waist to stop you from squirming around excessively.

"put.. the fuckin' book down, a-alastor.." your nails dig into his shoulder through the fabric of his shirt, the back of your other hand hovering over your mouth with a frown on your face. alastor smiles in response, holding the book between the both of you now that there's a gap.

"why, it has only gotten interesting! patience is key, darling."

"it has been almost a whole fucking hour, alast-" your words get cut off by yet another harsh thrust of his hips, an uncontrollable moan slipping off your tongue. a low, barely audible grunt could be heard coming from alastor because of how you're squeezing around him like your life depends on it.

slowly, he places the book down, pushing two digits into your mouth as his sharp nails graze past your gums. your tongue swirls around them, gaze fixated on his that seems to be mocking your desperation. you grind your hips, wanting to feel more of that sensitive spot in you being stimulated by his tip brushing against it. alastor grunts every time you tighten around him, the feeling making his skin jump and his eyes close shut from the pleasure he receives.

you reach for the book to toss it aside, not allowing him any chance to get it back and return to what he was previously putting you through. he laughs at the action before getting cut off by yet another groan, a frown slowly finds its way to spread across his face despite the grin that remains on his lips.

"the book shall wait after all."

ʚ VOX .

the sound of vox's workers and colleagues echoes through his workplace, the source of it coming from the laptop that sits in front of him. he's holding an urgent meeting with them to discuss some things about work, yet you're here obediently sitting on him, cockwarming him. your arms hug his neck tightly, hands grabbing tightly onto his shirt while listening to him speak to the people in call.

you bite down every moan that builds in your throat, not allowing any sound to be heard by anyone but your partner. times when vox isn't discussing important matters, he leans into your ear to whisper praises, thrusting into you, and stops so suddenly when you're close to release.

he grins as you whine at the sudden loss of friction, skin flushed while feeling him draw lazy circles on your hips with his thumbs. he starts speaking again just when you're about to voice your frustration, drawing out a grumble from you. you stay there unattended, glancing at the part where the two of you connect; you're craving release, and you're done waiting.

with a steady pace, you move your own hips while holding onto his shoulders for support. vox's head snaps toward your direction, teeth gritting as he bites back the groans that threaten to leave his lips. he tries to hold you down, but his body betrays him and allows you to carry on with your movements. his head tilts back to lean against the headrest of his chair, the words that his workers speak gradually shifting to a blur in his mind.

"fuck, w-wait," his breath grows heavy, barely managing to keep his eyes open as you fuck yourself on his cock. you're supposed to be cockwarming him, not riding him. he has allowed you to the point of no return, how is he going to carry on with the meeting now? you grab him and connect your lips with his, drinking in his groans like how he does to your moans.

ignoring the calls of his name from the meeting, he pulls you closer by the waist as you grind yourself on him. it wasn't until he started getting annoyed by the meeting that he broke away from the kiss, strings of saliva still connecting your lips while his hand reached out to shut the laptop down. the room falls to a sudden silence, the only sounds that remain are your heavy breathing.

"you're gonna fuck up my company if this carries on," vox snickers before crashing his lips with yours again, hands holding onto your hips to thrust into you without anything holding him back this time.

ʚ VALENTINO .

you still can't process the fact that you're in valentino's studio with his cock buried deep inside of you while people walked around to work on set. valentino takes puffs from the cigarette he holds between his fingers, often ordering and even yelling at people as they rush to obey his commands.

nobody pays any mind to the both of you; in fact, they see it as something normal. after all, they're working for a porn producer, what is there not to be normal? you keep your face stuffed in the fluff of his coat, hands gripping tightly onto his outfit while still trying to adjust to how good he stretches you apart. everyone has just started working, and the set is still being prepared for a new film.

"you're tighter than usual my love, are you that excited to be around everyone?" he teases with a mocking tone, puffing out a wisp of pink smoke onto your flushed face. you lightly shake your head with a whine, the smoke that you inhale causing your vision to spin immediately. humming, valentino lifts your body up with the help of his lower pair of arms before roughly slamming you back down onto his cock. "I doubt that. you've always loved being fucking in public, no? look at you,"

you gasp, body tensing as a moan escapes your throat. you immediately bite down on your lower lip, eyes screwing shut while simultaneously having your body trembling under his hold. you don't want to draw too much attention to yourself, yet the idea alone excites you in an odd way that you never knew it would. noting your reaction, valentino continues repeating the action before stopping promptly, feeding himself with your choked back moans.

"keep looking pretty like that while i work, i'll have a reward waiting for you." you mewl at his words, giving him a weak nod while tugging onto his shirt. he takes another long drag from his cigarette before letting his gaze fall onto the prepared set displayed in front of him, eyes scanning for the stars of the show in the room.

he would moan softly into your ear whenever you clenched around him, teasing you with his mere voice and carrying on with his work. you don't complain, though, considering how you'll be fucked into a moaning mess once he's done with work.

© silas ( @silasours ). all rights reserved. every work posted on this account belongs to me, and only me. please refrain from reposting, plagiarizing, translating, or reproducing my work in any form possible.

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zyafics · 9 days

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omg hi!! hope ur doing well i love ur writing btw, (play fake is one of my fav fics ive EVER read!!)

could u do a fic where rafe and reader are like best friends, and they’ve always both kinda liked each other but they dont really act upon it, until rafe gets a buzzcut and reader starts acting like real shy and clumsy around him bcs she’s shocked abt how he could get even MORE attractive, and then he gets linda confused so he asks her why she’s acting so different and then she tells him? make it as smutty and fluffy as u want! 🫶🫶

first off, ily 🥹 and omg, YES!! i've been thinking about this ever since i got your req in my inbox, so here's my very earnest attempt at doing it justice 🩷

masterlist

pairing rafe cameron x bsf!female reader

content (5.3k words) 18+, fluff, smut, soft!rafe to reader only, protected p in v, f receiving oral, lots of banter!, nicknames used: baby and wildflower. — reader type kook, spontaneous, loves adventure, hates silence, loves noises, doesn't exactly like her reality, and friends with topper and kelce, but is only close to rafe!

dedication to @mintforadollar for helping me with the nickname and for @erwinsvow for her lovely fic, which i drew inspiration from and i've been obsessing over for the past two weeks <3

lıllılı Wildflower by 5 Seconds of Summer

"I want to run away."

It takes a moment for Rafe to register your confession and his response is a drowsy laugh. "Buy a guy dinner first."

You let out a groan, slumping against your wrinkled sheets and abundant pillows spread across your bed. "I'm being serious, Rafe. I'm tired of this house. It's too empty and quiet. I can't stand it. At night, I think I can hear my skin buzzing."

Rafe is accustomed to your sporadic calls regarding whatever issues you had with the world. Last week, it was about the insufficient amount of family portraits that frame the halls of your mansion.

"Maybe you just need to change your sheets."

"Stop!" You chastise. Rafe chokes up with another beat of laughter, low and rich with the deep timbre of his voice. The sound temporarily draws you away from your rant, igniting a small ember in your stomach. You brush away those tingly thoughts. "You're not listening to me."

"I think I'm listening to you perfectly fine, wildflower." He reassures, the solemnity of his tone takes you off the edge. Rafe shuffles on the other line, moving to a sitting position against his headboard. "What do you want? Do you want me to come pick you up?"

You cower from his offer, tucking one of your pillows under your chin. "You don't have to..."

"Don't get all shy with me now. You can't act this way when you're waking me up in the dead of night to report about your getaway plans."

"I feel bad."

Rafe sighs, getting off his bed. He knows the outcome of this conversation and rather prepares himself for the short drive. "I'm heading over."

"I could walk."

"It's freezing outside."

"Your house is down the block. I can survive."

"I'm already out the door. Just stay put." Rafe announces and before he's about to disconnect the call, he adds. "I'm serious."

He arrives in record time. Honking his truck with no regards for the nearby neighbors and you pad downstairs with a bag, descending down the driveway to the passenger side of his truck. A little shiver travels down your spine at the cool North Carolina weather.

"God, what did I tell you?" He scolds, noticing your lack of outwear, and reaches for the blanket in the backseats he keeps just for you. He throws it at your face, suffocating your air with a fluffy white fleece. You roll your eyes, covering your shoulders with it as Rafe reverses. "Where do you want to go?"

"Thought I'm supposed to buy you a meal first."

He doesn't bother entertaining your retort with a glance and flicks the side of your head with his fingers. You giggle. "We're not running away."

"Who said you're included in this adventure? I remember it being a one-person job."

Rafe scoffs. "You can't run away. You'd miss me too much."

"No, you'd miss me too much." You tease back, watching his lips pull to an upward curve at your words. It makes your heart flutters, knowing you always manage to get this side of Rafe. To the rest of Outer Banks, Rafe is seen as a precarious, self-absorbed playboy, but to you, he's your best friend.

And a little more.

The truck parks on the roadside of Tannyhill, the silhouettes of the estate surrounded by shadowy oak trees and a deep reflection of the moon on their waterfront view. Rafe doesn't make a move to leave, nor turn off the engine, before he turns to you.

"You okay?" He asks gravely, all humor stripped off his handsome features. You feel the air of your lungs stolen, at the amount of attention he's paying you, and the atmospheric change turns you to a bashful version of yourself.

"Fine." You answer, looking to your lap. "You know..."

Despite your house being a near-identical model to Rafe's, you hate yours. It's nothing about the architecture but rather the emptiness of the hallways. The cold floors sweep with minimalist decors. The echoes in the chambers where you can hear every little whirl in the air conditioner and creaks in the pipes. You'd rather be at Tannyhill.

Rafe doesn't say anything for the next few moments, observing you, before conceding a sigh. "Tell you what. I'll take you out on the Druthers tomorrow. We'll go bright and early, sail out for a couple of hours, watch the sunrise and it'll be something."

You lift your head, eyes lit up. "Is this our escape?"

"We gotta come back, though."

You frown but the offer remains enticing. It's better than nothing.

"Okay, deal." You nod, holding out your pinkie finger. Rafe scoffs at your gesture, but nonetheless, returns it. "Don't look so glum. You get to hang out with me."

"You do realize we have about three hours of sleep?"

You glance at the clock on his dashboard. He's right. But, you don't want to hold it off till another day. "I can go by myself. Just give me the keys for tomorrow."

He rolls his eyes, as if he would even consider that suggestion, and shakes his head. "I'm coming with you."

"Aren't you afraid you won't get your beauty sleep?"

"Shut up and get in the house."

You laugh and hop out of his truck. When you enter through his bedroom, you throw your bag to a random corner and stroll over to his closet in search for one of Rafe's tees to sleep in.

When you settle on something, you strip out of your clothes—in the middle of his bedroom, just as Rafe enters—and exchange it for his shirt. He had little regard for your act, having grown accustomed to you changing in front of him and vice versa.

All Rafe does is pull off his own shirt, because he likes to sleep naked, and turns back to you. Unlike him, you're never going to get used to seeing him naked—the defined muscles of his chest, the toned planes of his abs, all those hours spent at the gym are clearly not wasted.

You flush, realizing you're ogling him longer than appropriate, and lift your gaze to find a smirk curving his lips. "Oh, shut it," you push his shoulders, causing him to laugh. He takes the opportunity to capture your hand, pulling the both of you onto his mattress, and you yelp.

Rafe changes your position so you're facing him, an arm sprawls over your waist, and there's about a couple of inches of space between the two of you. Here, in the low streams of the moonlight glistening through the veiled curtains and the faint aroma of his cologne on his pillows, you can hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

You say nothing. He says nothing, You stare into his cerulean eyes, knowing all this little emotions you're feeling all over—the light pricks on your skin where he touches you, the lapse in your breathing from how attentive he is, and the sharp incline of your heart rate pulsing through your veins—is because of him.

His voice is low when he says, "you know you're my best friend, right?"

You couldn't find it in you to answer. You just nod.

Rafe swallows hard, not having the ability to string together the next sentence. Instead, all he does is nod along, leaning forward to place a light kiss on your forehead, before falling asleep.

The next morning, just an hour before the sunrise, Rafe and you head to the ports to board the Druthers. Despite the lack of adequate sleep, you were giddily and strumming with high energy. He holds out his hand to guide you up the stairs, afraid your enthusiasm would cause you to miss a step.

When the Druthers is far enough from shore, it pulls to a halt, gently bobbing on the ocean waves of the tame morning. You settle on the deck and Rafe slides into the spot next to you. Here, you have the perfect view of the sun slowly rising from the horizon, painting the sky in a palette of red, orange and yellow.

You're grinning. You're feeling much better, especially after your melodramatic episode. Your head rests on Rafe's chest, observing the skyline until the sun reaches its acme, while he watches you. Something about you, happy, content, and with him brings a warmth no one can replicate.

"We have to go swimming." You announce suddenly, twisting your head to look at him with excitement bubbling on your features, doe eyes pleading with a want.

His expression is flat, trying to contain his emotions. "It's seven in the morning."

"So? When has that stopped me before?"

"It's freezing cold."

"That's your excuse for everything." You scoff, before tilting your head in a challenge. "Are you scared of a little water, Rafe Cameron?"

There's a twinkle in your eyes, something about the way you talk to him, he would never allow from anyone else. It's just you. He had to look away, pretending to shake his head from the idea but knowing, at the end, he lost.

With a long dip into the ocean, you swim around the Druthers with light splashes thrown in his face, causing Rafe to chase after you for your little stunt. When the pair of you returned to the boat, dripping wet on the floor deck, laughter exchanging at the break of dawn.

"You cheated!" You accuse, grinning.

"I did not. You're just slow."

When you change out of your bikini and Rafe changes out of his swim trunks, you return to the cockpit where Rafe dons a new attire: khaki pants, a polo shirt, and his backward baseball cap. The air shifts, a more solemn expression on his face.

"You had enough now, wildflower?" He tips his head to your direction, as you approach him. "Ready to return back to the real world?"

You groan. "What's so special about that place?"

"Nothing that matters to you," he declares, "but I have a couple of errands I have to run today. I have to get back, but I won't leave until you're feeling better."

"Hm." You consider your satisfaction. Standing before Rafe, you watch as his lips curl in amusement at the way you're mauling through the finer details. The itinerary of your day and whether it was enough. When your eyes lock with his, you offer him a sweet smile, albeit a little reluctant.

"What?"

You don't answer him, reaching for his hat and taking it off his head, before plopping it over your own as a keepsake souvenir. "Now, I am."

—

After spending your afternoon with Topper and Kelce at the Country Club, distracting them from their tee time with your commentary about their swings, Rafe finally arrives to join you.

But it's different.

When Rafe said he had a couple of errands to run, you didn't ask for their specifics. He just said he'll join you later and you were content with that assumption.

You should've prepared yourself.

Rafe got a new haircut; a buzz that took away his dirty blond locks and a clean fade on the sides. For some reason, it makes your heart accelerate. Your breath shortens. Rafe has always been attractive before but now, you couldn't even look at him.

When he tries to approach you in greeting, you dip out of the way and return to Topper and Kelce. However, in the middle of your path, you nearly tripped over some hazardously-abandoned golf club one of the boys threw out, but Rafe caught you. A hand on your elbow, his brows drawn together in concern.

"You good?" He asks. You can't help but let your eyes stray up to his hairline, finding it voided of the curtain bangs it previously occupies and the strands you like to mess with. Your gaze instantly drops to the ground.

"I'm–I'm fine." You stutter, heat rising to your cheeks from the embarrassing fact that you couldn't even make a clean getaway. Rafe helps you find your balance and you slip out of his grasp as you excuse yourself back to the other Kooks.

That's how the rest of the evening went. Through another round of golf and a dinner at the restaurant inside the Country Club, you try to ignore Rafe to the best of your abilities. It was a difficult task but a necessary one. Your emotions were fuzzy and harder to control. You couldn't even look at your best friend without flushing or revealing everything on your face.

You thought you could wait it out till you get home.

"Come on, wildflower." Rafe grabs your wrist, just as you're about to join Topper in his car, and you turn to face his contempt expression. Annoyance written over his features. "I'm driving you home."

"No, it's fine. Top said he can give me a ride—"

"We live nearby each other. There's no point for Top to do all that. Right?" Rafe cuts a hard look to the blond in the driver seat, to whom easily backs off with two hands raised in surrender. Coward. Rafe turns back to you. "Let's go."

You end up in the passenger seat of his truck. On the long drive back to Figure Eight, you were uncharacteristically quiet. Often, you would fidget with the stereo, messing with Rafe's presets on country and rap stations, to which he always has to swat your hands away. Today, you sat obediently in your seat, hands tucked between your thighs, looking anywhere but Rafe.

"You're not going to listen to music?" He asks, trying to cut the silence. You shake your head.

"I'm not feeling it."

You try to count the seconds. You try to distract yourself by looking out the window and listening to the chirps of crickets coming out, but all you can focus on is the sound of yours and Rafe's breathing. The acute awareness of something in the air. The amount of space between the two of you. The way something deep in you changed about him.

It isn't his fault. Whatsoever. It's all yours. All those times spent at Tannyhill, stealing his shirts to wear to sleep, cuddling up in his bed after sneaking out of your estate, running around with Rafe doing god-knows-what. You developed something for him. A crush. An inkling.

You always told yourself you could control it. It's natural for best friends to like each other at one point. It'll fade away eventually.

But, unfortunately for you, that isn't the case. it got worse. It grew more desperate. With each inching territory into something else means a larger consequence it can have on your friendship.

You can't lose him.

"Hey." Rafe calls out, his voice softens considerably from the aggression he used with Topper a while back. You don't turn to face him, despite that being his sole objective, and you respond back with a light hum. "Am I driving you home or Tannyhill?"

To you, those are the same things. Home is where Tannyhill is, where Rafe is. But, you knew what he was referring to.

"Tannyhill." You answer in a chipped tone. "I forgot my bag."

"Of course, you did." He teases, trying to break the tension with some lightheartedness. It doesn't work. You don't answer, too lost in resisting the urge to look at him.

Rafe sighs when you refuse to acknowledge him and turns back to the road. That's when you spare a glance from the corner of your peripheral; just a small peek.

And there he is: Rafe with the fresh shave that is such a strange yet welcomed sight. It brings out a clearer definition of his handsome features, the planes of his sharp profile, the cut of his jawline and the wrinkles around his eyes you always adore. It's too much for you.

You can't let him know that.

He's your best friend.

When he reaches Tannyhill, you leap out of the moving vehicle and race up the porch. You take the hidden key from under the mat and turn the lock, slipping into the familiar foyer and up the large stairwell.

Racing against an internal clock, once you enter the bedroom, you search for your bag, but you can't seem to pinpoint its location. When you manage to miraculously find it underneath the covers, you throw it over your shoulders and sprint to the exit.

Only for Rafe to block it.

"Why are you in such a rush?" He asks, his brows furrowed together as he examines you. You quickly drop your gaze to the ground, pretending to be interested in the patterns on the marble.

"I just..." You stammer for an excuse. "I just got to get home."

"Why? You hate your house."

"I don't hate it." You lie. The conversation tips into an awkward tension—the exact thing you were trying to avoid. You think you need to spend a day, or two, or a whole week, to collect yourself and force yourself back to normal. Back to when you can look at him without revealing everything on your face.

"God, what is it? You don't like it?" Rafe laughs with an ounce of nervousness and the sound takes you back. You look up, finding him running a hand over his buzzcut. "It's my hair, isn't it?"

He didn't know why he decided to buzz it off. He just did. He didn't care if his father didn't approve or if Wheezie would make fun of him for the sudden change in appearance. That didn't matter to him.

But your opinions did.

"What?" Your lips part. Were you that obvious? "I never said that."

"You didn't need to. This entire evening, you've barely looked at me."

He's right.

"I was busy."

"Playing golf with Top? You hate that shit." He retorts, dropping his hand to his side, clenching them into whiten knuckles. "And when we were at the restaurant. You were sitting with Kelce. Why the fuck were you sitting with him instead of me?"

You swallow hard. Your throat is tightening with all the words you can't reveal.

"Maybe I just want to change it up. I am friends with them too—"

"But you're my friend first."

You scoff. "Possessive much?"

"Very." He answers nonchalantly. Your heart skips a beat. He can't say that; it's not fair. "And knowing you for so long, I know what you're telling me is complete and total bullshit."

His hand slides under your jaw, lifting your gaze to meet his, and you can't help but feel your walls crumbling. You're afraid. You're so afraid.

"Come on, wildflower." He murmurs softly, swiping his thumb across your cheek. "Tell me the truth."

You have always been able to do that. In ways. When Rafe asks something of you, you're always able to tell him straight. It's one of the qualities he likes about you. Now is the first time you're going against your nature. Because it's too close, too real, that it can change everything.

Your throat grows dry and you lick your bottom lip, causing Rafe to glance down.

"I..." You begin, trying to string together a coherent sentence that won't damage everything. He raises a brow, waiting. "Sometimes it's hard for me to look at you."

You close your eyes after the confession. Your heart is in his hands.

All the air in the room stills, as if the air conditioner turns off and you're all left with a tense, palpable silence. You can't bear it. At least, at your house, you can blast your speakers on full-volume to create some level of noise and block it out. Here, all you can hear is the thumping of your heart in your ears.

"Say something." You urge.

"Sometimes it's hard for me to look at you too."

Your heart drops. You think he doesn't understand. He thinks you can't stand him physically, especially after his haircut, and this is a similar sentiment shared by him about you.

He doesn't feel the same way.

"Oh."

You open your eyes, trying hard not to cry. You can feel them swelling with hot tears but you blink fast, trying to not let Rafe see.

He immediately recognizes the look, drawing back his hand. That’s not what he meant. "Don't cry."

You're not doing a good job at hiding anything today. "No, it's okay," you say with a crack voice, "you don't have to—"

"No, fuck," he swears, "what I mean is that, sometimes, when you look at me, I just—" He couldn't explain himself, not in time, not in the way he wants, that he covers your eyes, flooding your vision with darkness and heightening every other sense.

Rafe releases a deep exhale, collecting himself. "Those eyes..." He mumbles, the resonance of his voice so close, it's as if he's right beside you. You feel his breathing fanning against the curve of your neck, raising goosebumps. "They drive me fucking insane."

Then, he kisses your neck.

The act jolts you by surprise.

"Everything about you drives me insane." He confesses against your heated skin, the vibration of his words sending straight tingles through your body. "I can't go a day without thinking about you. About wanting you."

Not just as a best friend, but as a whole. Everything about you he needs. In his life; forever. Sometimes, he can't believe you exist.

You're overwhelmed with all these new emotions. Your heart is swelling. "Rafe..."

"You're my best friend, right?" He muses, delivering kisses up the column of your throat to the underside of your jaw, and making his way closer to your lips. "But you're also the only one for me."

Before he gets to your mouth, you grab his wrist, the one holding you blindfolded. He stops in place—afraid this is your time to reject him.

"Rafe." You breathe out. "Can I see you?"

He slowly removes his hand, allowing your vision to flood back with his presence. This time, the sight of Rafe doesn't push you into overdrive. There's a new sense of clarity and calm, an elated comfort you don't share with anyone else.

You take your time drinking him in. From his face, to his lips, to the fresh haircut you're feeling entirely too grateful for. You do it all without fear.

"What?" He demands, his insecurities skyrocketing through the roof. "Don't like it?"

"I love you."

His heart lunges in his chest. He couldn't believe the words coming from your lips. When it completely registers that this is not some sweet, wet dream he's going to wake up from, his hands reach forward to cup either side of your face and he finally kisses you.

His force pushes you back against his bed and you land on the mattress with a soft thump. You laugh into his mouth and Rafe grins against your lips.

"Eager, much?"

"I wanted to hear you say that for so long." He admits, his hand travels down your waist to grab your hips and pull you closer. Rafe deepens the kiss, swallowing the little sounds you're making, until you have to pull away to catch your breath.

You can't believe this is happening.

"I didn't know you were such a good kisser."

"Yeah? You wanna know what else I'm good at?"

Your eyes drop to his pants, seeing the subtle outline of his erection straining against his zipper, and he chuckles lowly. "You want it tonight?"

You nod timidly. Your eyes dropping to your lap again, but this time, Rafe doesn't allow you to do such things.

He grabs your chin, forcing your gaze to his. "Don't do that, baby. You know how I feel about you getting shy from asking what you want. Use your words."

The new nickname is making you lightheaded. You can't believe this is real. "I want you, Rafe."

Sweetest goddamn words he ever heard.

He tips his head to your clothes. "Take it off."

"You first."

He laughs at your competitiveness, always trying to challenge him, but he doesn't resist. He pushes himself off the mattress, pulling off his shirt and removing his pants. All that is left is his boxer-briefs, which reveals the outline of his bulge. "Your turn."

You take off your shirt and your shorts and decide, last minute, to go the extra mile and unclasp your bra too. It falls over your shoulders and you throw it out onto the floor.

Rafe takes his time, staring at your tits. He has seen you naked before, the consequence of your intimate relationship that pushes the boundaries into blurred lines and the inevitable collision of morning showers in his ensuite and drunken exchanges after parties.

But this time, it's different. This time, it's a sight that's intentional—just for him.

"Do you know how long I've waited for this?"

You gawk at him, the words send a thrill down your spine. "Do you know how long I waited for this?" You gesture back to him, at his naked frame, and he smirks.

"You got an eyeful last night."

"Oh, shut up," you use your leg to kick him, but Rafe catches your ankle in the process. Your eyes widen as he uses the opportunity to spread your legs apart, sinking between your thighs. His gaze finds your soaked panties.

His thumb traces across your panties, drawing out your wetness against the fabric and collecting your arousal. You whimper, aching into his touch.

"Rafe, please." You beg. His eyes lifts to find yours in a self-satisfied grin. He loves knowing you're this desperate for him, only him, that his fingers hook under the band of your panties.

"Lift your hips for me." He commands and you obey. He pulls off your panties and hauls you to the ledge of his bed. With that, his fingers caress your wet slit, drawing out a low moan from you. "Fuck."

He has imagined that sound a thousand times over, but it's incomparable to the real thing. To know you're feeling this way because of him. He feels himself growing harder, straining against the thin fabric and begging to be inside of you.

But he wants to pleasure you first.

Rafe lowers himself and covers your clit with his mouth. He proceeds to suck, his fingers grazing your entrance before plunging a thick digit inside.

You tip your head against the mattress, reveling in the feel of his tongue against your swollen nub, the way he thrusts into you with a steady pace and the additive finger. Your legs drape over his shoulders, closing him in.

"Fuck, baby, you taste so sweet," Rafe mumbles against you, the vibration of his words stirring something inside of you. "I can't believe I haven't been tasting you every single fucking night."

You draw out with a breathy moan, feeling yourself clench at his words. "We have all the time now."

"I bet I can make you come on my face fast, though."

You don't get a chance to entertain the response before Rafe sucks harder, pumping inside of you with a determined speed that causes you to arch off the mattress and claw at his sheets.

"Shit," you whimper, squeezing your thighs together at the intense pleasure, forcing Rafe to use his free hand to push your legs apart. You feel your climax rapidly approaching. "Oh, god, oh, god."

You come on his face, as promised, and you slump back against the bed, catching your breath. Rafe removes his hand from your cunt, the emptiness causes a little whine.

"What?" He looks at you.

"Nothing," you mumble, "I just want you inside me."

He laughs. "God, you're needy," he teases, causing heat to rise to your cheeks. "Don't worry, baby, you'll get it soon."

He goes to his nightstand and pulls out a condom. Just as he's about to tear it open, he glances down at you, extending the small square. "Want to do it?"

You nod, pushing yourself upright and taking it from his hands. You rip it open, as Rafe removes his boxers, and his cock springs free, red and swollen with a bit of precum. You smile, glancing up at him with your doe eyes. "Is that because of me?"

"Shut up."

You giggle, rolling the latex over his length, taking your time to admire his size. He's big and perfect, the tip of his cock dripping with his precum that you almost wish you could take him inside your mouth instead. However, despite the recent orgasm, your body wants him inside.

"Lay back." He commands thickly. "Spread your legs."

You do as he says, throbbing from the control he has in the room. Rafe sinks his knees into his mattress, approaching you as he pushes your thighs apart and lines his tip against your entrance, causing your breath to shorten.

"Come on, wildflower, breathe with me."

You nod shakily, closing your eyes for a moment to inhale a calming breath before he plunges deep inside you, filling you to the hilt. A gasp escapes you, his girth stretching you out, but it soon fades into a pleasure unlike any others.

"God, you feel good," he mumbles, lowering himself to your mouth and capturing your lips into a hot kiss. Your hand drapes over his shoulders as he begins to thrust inside of you. "Too fucking good."

You feel perfect. All of this is too perfect. The way you press against him, your fingernails scraping his back, the way your pussy grips him with the ideal amount of pressure, and the way your lips sync with his as if you were made for him.

The air fills with your whimpers and mewls, increasing in volume with each thrusts that enters and leaves you, while Rafe is heaving in breathy grunts and moans. He pushes your legs back, forcing the new position to grant him deeper access into your sweet cunt.

He's hitting new spots you didn't know were possible. It's making your eyes roll to the back of your head, your cries coming out with desperate pleas, that he had to cover your mouth with his to swallow all the noises.

When you feel yourself reaching a familiar high, the buzz tingling between your legs, you grip his shoulders tight. Rafe feels your walls fluttering around him, and he quickened his pace, sweat breaking across his forehead.

Your breath is heavy, your heart is racing, and as you ascend into your peak, you moan out Rafe's name with such euphoric satisfaction, he comes with you, emptying into the condom.

When he finishes, he falls into the space next to you. His breathing is rough, trying to catch his own breath, that you can't help but turn your gaze to his, examining him under this new light.

Rafe catches you staring, the way your eyes lift to his hairline, and he reassures with a soft brush against your jaw. "It'll grow back, I promise."

"it's not that." You declare, dropping your gaze down to his face. You still can't believe the embarrassment you still feel by how attractive he is. "I like it."

"You do?"

"Why else would I hide from you?"

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head with a ghost of a smile on his lips. His hand drops to your waist, pulling you closer to him until you're skin-to-skin, your breasts pressing against his chest.

"You couldn't tell me the whole time?" He mumbles, kissing your nose. You giggle.

"If I did, we wouldn't be here having sex."

He takes a moment to consider your words, before finding some merit in them. "Fair." He declares, just as his eyes find yours again. This time, he can look at you, knowing you're his. "I guess next time I get a new haircut, I can propose, huh?"

Your heart drops. Your smile fades from surprise. "What?"

He laughs at your expression. "You think I'm letting you go after this? It's either us or nothing."

Maybe reality isn’t too bad.

IMPORTANT: if you want to follow my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications!

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mirohlayo · 25 days

Note

Hi, can I request a Reader x F1 grid story where reader breaks her arm/leg and she can't race because of it, but she still attends the races to watch with her team? And then the drivers start to draw on her cast as a feel better soon gesture.

Maybe she also posts it on her social media throughout the day to show fans the progress of the drawings.

Thank you so much xxx

P.S. Love you writing

Hi !! So as you requested I used the F1 grid, but only the drivers who I write for originally (+ Albon). I also wrote reader as a F1 Academy driver to make it more easy to write and more realistic. It's the first time I write something like this, so hope you'll enjoy it girll !! ᥫ᭡

DRAWINGS ON MY BROKEN ARM

( because maybe you just need some love from your handsome friends. )

warning : none just a broken arm, a cast and fluff

note : I really struggled a lot to find some good cast pictures, these ones are a bit awful lmaoo sorry

word count : 1.3k

It was not planned. This was absolutely not what was planned.

As you get out of the car with difficulty, greeting pleasantly the driver who kindly accompanied you to the Suzuka circuit, you try as best you can not to move your arm too much. If you make unnecessary efforts you will tire yourself out for nothing.

You absolutely did not choose to break your arm. It was due to a mistake, a very big mistake indeed. While you were testing your car during free practice, during a session where the falling rain flooded the track with water, your tires did not grip effectively and you found yourself thrown against the wall, in a fairly serious crash. surprising.

The teams immediately helped you, and while everyone was asking you if you were okay after this crash, that's when you realized a big problem: yes, you were okay, but not your arm. . And after a short stay in the hospital, you now find yourself - or rather your arm - stuck in an amazing cast.

You obviously cannot participate in the next F1 Academy races. But you can, however, do something else that is much more energetic and beneficial for you in the state you are in: attend the F1 race which is currently taking place in Japan.

After all, being locked up for almost a week in your apartment was totally boring and you really need a little fresh air, and above all the passion for this sport to stimulate. Being a very close friend of certain drivers, you did not hesitate for a single second to accept your team's proposal when they offered to accompany you to the Suzuka GP.

Now there you are in the paddock, trying to slip through the others to get to the Mercedes garage. There where you find Georges, who smiles with all his teeth at the sight of you.

“Hello you” He walks over to you and starts to wrap his arms around you in order to give you a hug, but a reflex immediately makes him step back. “Oh sorry, I forgot you have a... little problem” He struggles to finish his sentence, grimacing at the sight of your wrapped arm in a cast.

You giggle before patting his shoulder. "Are you better since your crash? I saw that a few days ago and I was really scared for you." His eyes scan you, he is worried about you. You smile softly at him to reassure him. "Don't worry. I may have a broken arm but that won't stop me from supporting you in this race."

“Oh, Y/n!” Lewis' voice calls out to you, and you turn to face him, Charles next to him. They both smile at you, taking care not to touch your arm so as not to hurt you further. "I'm so sorry about your crash. You must definitely be disappointed." Lewis affectionately caresses your shoulder, a show of affection and support.

"At least you're alive, that's the main thing. It's good to see you here, the other guys miss you you know." Charles explains the situation, telling you how worried and scared the pilots were following your accident. You also received several messages from them on instagram, in which they supported you and showered you with kind words.

“Y/NNN!!” Daniel screams your name from afar, a big smile on his face as he almost throws himself at you. “Hey watch out for his arm.” Lewis alerts Daniel so he doesn't hurt you, but he doesn't seem to hear anything and comes to take you in his arms. “Daniel, I’ll go back to the hospital if you continue.” He finally pulls away, carefully observing your cast.

“Maybe I should call the others, they’ll be happy to see you.” Charles volunteers to bring the other drivers back, while you chat with your friends. They are all very respectful and very attentive, they are sincerely empathetic towards you.

In the distance, you finally see the rest of the boys arriving.

“Here’s my girl.” Lando comes to wrap his arm around your shoulders, a smirk present on his lips. You push him away, grimacing to tease him, and he holds his heart as if you had just broken it into a thousand pieces. "I know I shouldn't have sent you that 'get well soon' with a red heart on Instagram, hypocrite." He pretends to roll his eyes but his smile betrays him.

"Indeed, you shouldn't have. Your teammate was the first to message me and that's why he's my favorite boy today." Oscar tssk while crossing his arms, however amused by the situation. Max, Carlos and Alex are discreetly added to the group that has just formed around you.

“Even with a broken arm, you can do a lot of things you know.” Max told you in a confident manner. “Like Lance last year.” Carlos chuckled at Lando, both nodding at the same time because they thought the same thing. You can't help but feel alive again.

It's true that the last few days were difficult. Alone, injured and locked in your apartment, you no longer had much of a taste for life. You kept asking yourself questions about your future, about the rest of the races of the year. You were also worried. But you knew that coming here, being surrounded by your closest friends again, laughing and talking with them, was all you needed. You can only be grateful to them.

“I have an idea guys!” Alex then exclaims, drawing attention to himself. “Since Y/n is injured, and her cast is… white and bland, we should draw to give her courage.” He said while pointing at your cast. The other drivers nod, agreeing with the Williams driver's idea.

“I will have the honor of drawing first!” Then begins George, who is already ready to fight to have his drawing on your cast. "She wants a drawing of her favorite driver which is me. Too bad for you, George." Lando, and his sassy attitude, is ahead of the Mercedes driver. “I bet I draw better than all of you so let me do it.” Carlos steps forward to assert himself.

They seem to be on the verge of fighting over who will have the honor of drawing best, or who will draw first. You laugh while calming the situation. "Look, you're all going to be able to draw. We just need some markers." You remark, as you wave to your team in the distance to help you.

It doesn't take long before they arrive with a small pencil case filled with different colored markers. You then sit on a chair in a corner of the garage, the nine drivers around you. Oscar is the first to draw on your cast, while the others are still fighting over who will go second.

In the end, after a good session of laughter and slightly failed drawings, the result is there. Your plaster is decorated with designs, each one as extravagant as the last, but that doesn't matter, because their intention comes from the heart. This sincere gesture will certainly give you courage for the rest of your adventure, you are sure of it.

And as they all give you one last smile, one last hug, they leave to prepare for the approaching race. You end up joining your team further in the VIP stands, ready for the start of the race. “What a beautiful cast” Your engineer nods at the magnificent designs on your arm, and you smile. “Beautiful may not be the word, but it’s very precious to me for sure.”

And as you share a laugh, the red lights go out, as the din of cars echoes throughout the circuit. For a moment, everything seems wonderful. It's crazy how a simple little attention like drawings can brighten up your day a little more. And can also brighten up the day of others, like those of your fans for example...

yourusername just posted !

liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and others...

yourusername: maybe no more arm but at least I have my handsome boyys ❤️

view comments

danielricciardo: if anyone wonders who drew the beautiful star, it’s me ✌️😁

⤷ landonorris: you wrote on her arm instead of her cast you dickhead

⤷ danielricciardo: I was feeling different 😜

user: Alex just writing his name makes absolutely sense

user: no cuz they're literally the SWEETEST ahww

⤷ yourusername: only oscar cuz he's the one who drew the best

⤷ danielricciardo: but you said it was me earlier

⤷ yourusername: i lied plus you literally drew on my SKIN instead of my cast 😠

landonorris: my girl not giving any credits to my amazing beautiful drawing 💔

⤷ yourusername: yeah cuz you have no talent, keep it up it's awful mate 🔥🔥

⤷ landonorris: hypocrite I hate you

charles_leclerc: take care of yourself y/n ❤️

georgerussell63: I slayed, my drawing is lit

⤷ yourusername: no 🙄🥱

user: i need friends as precious as them, love their friendship !!

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 grid x reader #f1 x you #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #george russel x reader #daniel riccardo x reader #max verstappen x reader #alex albon x reader

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talaok · 3 months

Text

The carpet

pairing: Pedro Pascal x fem!reader

Summary: You and your husband Pedro prepare for a red carpet, but once you're there you have a wardrobe malfunction, luckily, he's there to help.

Warnings: just so much fluff for no reason

a/n: i havent written something for Pedro that wasnt a request in literally 9 months, but guess what the hyperfixation is hyperfixating lately and I just needed to write down what i've been daydreaming about all day.

"wow" he exhaled, closing the door behind him, his eyes trained on you.

You chuckled, looking at him from the mirror, as a choked "aww" escaped Linda, your make-up artist's, lips at the reaction.

You gave her a look and she just grinned, checking her work one final time before whispering "Seeing you two is better than watching any rom-com, I can't even remember the last time my Mark looked at me like that", making you laugh once more with a playful roll of your eyes.

"you look stunning sweetheart" Pedro breathed, right behind you now, his hands already on your waist

Another dreamy sigh fell out of Linda's lips before she decided it was time for her to go.

"i'll go wait downstairs then... leave you two lovebirds some time alone," she said, excitement piercing through her tone as if she was watching her daughter walk down the aisle.

"thank you Linda, we'll be down in a moment" You nodded, smiling sincerely at her as she started for the door.

But just when a foot was already out into the hallway, she turned around, a serious expression on her all of a sudden.

"And Pedro" she shot him a look "Just this once, try not to mess her lipstick up too much, will ya?"��

You couldn't help but laugh, loudly, wholeheartedly, but Pedro, ever so honest only answered with a "I can't make any promises Linda", before the poor woman groaned and shut the door behind her.

Just as the soft thud of the motion bumped from wall to wall, Pedro turned you around in one swift motion, getting to see your pretty face better.

"hi there" you smiled, placing your hands on his chest, softly playing with the hem of his tuxedo's jacket.

"hello sugar" he grinned, letting his eyes drink in all of you.

"You look handsome" you murmured, your right hand going to his face, feeling the soft stubble of his beard graze your palm.

"mhhh" he hummed, leaning closer already, much to Linda's disappointment "Well you know how it is... if my lady's gonna be the most beautiful woman on the red carpet I gotta step up my game"

You huffed out a laugh

"'s that right?"

"need to at least try and look like you're not miles out of my league" he cocked an eyebrow, his hands on your waist pushing you flush against him.

"You're a bad man Pedo Pascal" you stifled a smirk "A bad, bad man" you whispered as his lips finally met with yours.

They were softer than usual, but heavenly just the same.

His hold tightened on you and you melted right into his arms, whimpering weakly into his mouth, before after what was probably a good two minutes, he pulled away.

"we gotta go" you murmured

"I know" he groaned, half-heartedly leaning away.

And as you checked yourself in the mirror one last time, you couldn't help but chuckle, as your gaze fell to your lips.

"Oh Linda's gonna be pissed"

__ __ __

the carpet was booming tonight,

celebrities filled every inch of the crimson rug, and the flashes of the countless cameras pointed at you were so strong you swore they would have blinded you if you weren't so used to them.

You were posing to show off the gorgeous dress you were lucky enough to be wearing, and once you had exhausted all the poses you knew, you turned to your husband on the left as he offered you his hand, which you took with a smile, walking to his spot and leaving a soft kiss on his cheek the photographers seemed more than a little enthusiastic about.

But as you posed together, his arm on your back drawing soothing circles, an almost inaudible pop made its way to your ears, and all the sudden some pressure was gone from your chest, and when you looked down... when you looked down the button that was holding the two pieces of fabric covering your boobs had popped, and said fabric was starting to fall.

"oh my god" you blurted, but before you could do anything, your reflexes slowed down by the shock, Pedro's hand found your chest, salvaging the falling pieces of the dress.

"I-" you stuttered, not knowing what to say, or do as he moved in front of you, his broad build doing a hell of a good job of shielding you from the photographers

"I was about to flash so many people" you finally breathed, your voice faint.

"yeah" he said, trying, really trying to suppress the chuckle down his throat, but failing miserably "Yeah you were sweetheart" he laughed softly, his hand still holding your dress.

"are you- don't laugh!" you gasped, although with one look at your face, you could feel a bubble of laughter making its way up your thoat "It's not funny" you smiled, chuckling too now.

"no" he shook his head, sarcasm spilling out of his every pore " there's nothing remotely funny about this sugar, absolutely" he smiled, making you want to roll your eyes

"hold the dress for a sec" he said, having you do just that as he took his jacket off and instead, put it on you.

"thank you" you smiled, looking up at him.

"you just worry about keeping that jacket closed" he murmured, kissing your cheek "I've already seen too many men's eyes wondering a bit too much"

"oh shut up" you laughed, rolling your eyes as he escorted you off what must have been the worst red carpet of your life.

"Whatever you say flash" he laughed, obviously very proud of his own joke

"god I hate you so much" you sighed, smiling widely into his chest nonetheless.

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ja3yun · 7 days

Text

The Doll House | Park Jongseong

doll!jay x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), soft dom!jay, unprotected sex, cream pie, oral (m.rec), punishment, pussy slapping, begging, slight choking, pet names (sweetheart, good girl, princess), mentions of fire and other supernatural elements, anything else lmk! wc: 10.3k synopsis: your friend comes to visit you in the mansion after a month but her harsh words towards the dolls brings out a protective side, and jongseong lets you in on some secrets about the house and how they came to be. sunghoon | masterlist | heeseung a/n: hi! with this being the third instalment for this series, it's finally answering some questions while also posing some more! i truly enjoyed writing this chapter and i hope the little word plays and everything get your gears turning with theories! i enjoy hearing your theories so much like i can't even describe it <3 thank you so so so much for the love, i am forever grateful. likes, reblogs, feedback etc are all appreciated!

The doorbell chimes through the air, pulling your attention away from putting away the dishes in the kitchen, and a grin effortlessly spreads across your face. Mia's visit today after a month apart fills you with an immediate sense of joy. Though Jaeyun and Sunghoon are great company to keep, nothing quite compares to the presence of your best friend.

Her absence has been so obvious; her infectious energy seems to breathe life into everywhere she goes, which is a much-missed aura in this mansion; her presence has the power to dispel the shadows and chill that cling to the brick walls.

"Who could that be?" Sunghoon's voice interrupts your thoughts as he strolls around the kitchen island.

"It's Mia, remember? The friend I came here with. I told you she would be coming," you remind him gently, accepting the cup he just dried.

Sunghoon and Jaeyun both offer their assistance with the chores, but their motivations are drastically different. Jaeyun's assistance comes from a place of actually wanting to help and spend quality time with you, whereas Sunghoon is helping because the faster you finish, the sooner he can fuck you in whatever room you wind up in.

Despite your initial concerns, their dynamic surprises you as they seamlessly work in tandem. Rather than competing for your attention, they've embraced the idea of sharing you - an unexpected but pleasant development.

Jaeyun's bright smile at the island warms the room, his anticipation evident, "Will Mia be staying for the last month?" he inquires eagerly.

“Why? Is Y/N not enough?” Sunghoon jabs playfully, his eyebrow arching at his brother's question. His arms encircle your waist, drawing you close so your back is pressed against his chest as he leans his head on your shoulder, "If you'd rather be with Mia, I’m more than happy to have my baby girl all to myself," he murmurs against your neck, planting a gentle kiss on the nape.

Your skin tingles with a mix of excitement and affection as Sunghoon leaves a faint mark, a delighted expression dancing across your face.

“No, no! I was just curious," Jaeyun protests with a pout, his posture relaxing into a slight slouch. He’s so cute when Sunghoon teases him like that, you’re almost reluctant to stop it.

But before you can say anything, Sunghoon gently turns you to face him, his expression softening as he meets your gaze, "Remember," he murmurs, his voice tinged with a hint of seriousness, "you can’t tell Mia about us, yeah?”

Of course, you knew that telling her would be disastrous no matter the outcome. She would either think you were crazy and lost your mind, or she would tell the world. Your best friend was never the best at keeping secrets.

“I know, don’t worry,” you offer the simple words as reassurance to him, which paired with the sincerity in your eyes, he gladly accepts.

Leaning in, Sunghoon lands a soft kiss on your lips, his kind gesture relieving any remaining anxieties, "Good. Now, once she's finally fucking gone, come find me in my room," he says with a sly leer, his fingers slithering teasingly over your sides - a familiar trick he uses to make you weak. You should reprimand him for speaking so dismissively about your best friend's arrival, but he just has the power to make you forget.

Sunghoon's demeanour takes a brief shift as he addresses Jaeyun, a hint of authority creeping into his tone, "And you," he gestures towards Jaeyun behind you, his expression momentarily serious, "if you're staying here, you stay absolutely still, got it?"

"Okay, Dad, jeez," Jaeyun retorts, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance at the implication that he needs to be reminded.

You grasp Sunghoon's concern, especially given that you're currently aware of the doll's secret due to Jaeyun's loose lips. However, Sunghoon's tone feels unnecessarily harsh. Jaeyun holds a special place in your heart, and you find yourself fiercely protective of him. It irks you to see Sunghoon address him in such a condescending manner, as if he's incapable of handling himself.

Feeling defensive of Jaeyun, you push against Sunghoon's arm, shooting him a stern look, a firm reminder that he should catch his tongue because both of you know how it affects Jaeyun.

The bell rings again, drawing all three of your attention back to Mia's imminent arrival. Sunghoon excuses himself to his room, and Jaeyun settles comfortably into a chair, leaving you to answer the door with the unspoken reassurance that Mia won’t uncover their secret. But then again, what if you slip up?

It's a nagging worry in the back of your mind as you approach the door. Mia knows everything about you - every hook-up, every situationship, even mundane details like what you had for breakfast each morning. She's your confidante for everything, even the embarrassing stuff like bursting spots on your backside. With her, nothing is off-limits.

You remind yourself to keep your wits about you, to guard your words carefully in Mia's presence. The last thing you need is to accidentally let slip the truth about the dolls and your illicit affairs with them.

You need to keep your wits about you.

As you swing open the door, greeted by the radiant presence of the angel you call your best friend, every worry and concern fades into the background. Her infectious smile and warm embrace envelop you, dispelling any lingering doubts or anxieties.

"Baby!" you exclaim, unable to contain your excitement as you wrap Mia in a tight embrace, swinging her from side to side. Though it's only been a month since you last saw her, it feels like an eternity.

Mia reciprocates your enthusiasm, squeezing you just as tightly, the warmth of her embrace filling you with a sense of homecoming. Both of you laugh and struggle to breathe amidst the suffocating love you shower upon each other, relishing in the joy of being reunited.

"God, I've missed you. It's so boring back in the city without you," Mia confesses, her words honest as she finally draws back to assess you. Suddenly, she pushes you to arm's length, her hands gripping your shoulders as she scrutinises you with a sceptical expression. With a flick of her finger, she motions for you to turn around, and you oblige, doing a quick twirl to indulge her curiosity.

You give her a quizzical look, tilting your head in silent inquiry as to what she's up to. "You're glowing, like literally, you look fucking amazing," she observes, her eyes scanning you from head to toe.

"Don't I always?" you jest in response.

"Obviously, but you've got that honeymoon glow," Mia insists, walking into the house but not before nudging you with her shoulder. "Is there a hot gardener here that I don't know about, hmm?"

Laughing, you shake your head, dismissing her playful insinuations. You make a conscious effort to maintain the facade, concealing your unconventional relationships with the dolls from Mia, despite her keen observations.

They must be fucking you good for her to notice a change within a minute of seeing you.

Mia follows you to the kitchen, her gaze lingering on the various porcelain dolls scattered throughout the hallway, just as she had when you both met Soonyeol for the first time. You sense her unease, evident in the hurried pace of her steps as she tries desperately to evade the watchful eyes of the dolls.

What she finds unsettling, you've grown to find some comfort in. Each time you clean them, you develop a newfound admiration for their intricate beauty and craftsmanship. Sometimes, Sunghoon will even tell you stories about certain dolls and their origins, adding to the mystique surrounding them.

Entering the kitchen, you find Jaeyun still perched on his seat, his usual joyful smile replaced by a stoic expression as he takes on his doll persona.

It’s weird to see him like this now, especially because you’ve seen him convey every emotion possible on that beautiful face of his; the solemn look he wears now just feels wrong.

"I brought non-alcoholic wine," Mia announces, reaching into her bag and producing two bottles of white wine. Since she’s driving, she’s bringing you along in her sobriety for the day. If it was easy to get an Uber in these parts, she certainly wouldn’t be settling for 0.05%.

You chuckle at the sight, "Seriously? Gary Barlow wine?" you tease, unable to resist poking fun at her choice.

Mia feigns offence, placing a hand dramatically over her heart, "I'll have you know this is my idea of a very nice day out," she retorts, her voice taking on a mock-serious tone as she quotes his TikTok video, struggling to suppress a giggle. "That, and it was £2 off with my clubcard."

You both burst into laughter, her tension from earlier dissipating as you share a lighthearted moment. Grabbing two large glasses, you place them on the table, inviting Mia to pour some for you both.

"How was the drive?" you inquire, taking a small sip of wine.

"It was fine, although longer than I remember," Mia replies with a huff, sinking into a seat opposite Jaeyun. You notice her discomfort as she eyes him, face contorting in a form of disgust, "How has it been here?" she asks, wishing to know how on earth you’re coping in a mansion with such watchful eyes.

"It's a big house, lots to clean. All in all, it's been good.” You sip your wine, struggling to maintain the facade of normalcy.

The urge to confide in Mia, to unburden yourself of the secrets weighing heavily on your shoulders, is almost overwhelming. You want to tell her about the dolls, the ominous door that almost blinded you, and the sense of anxiety you feel sometimes when you roam the hallways. But you swallow the truth down, burying it beneath layers of false smiles and empty reassurances. It's a lonely feeling, knowing that you can't share your fears and anxieties with your closest friend. But for now, it's a burden you'll have to bear alone.

Mia accepts your answer with a sceptical expression, her eyes never wavering from Jaeyun's impassive face, "It's so fucking creepy," she murmurs into her glass, her discomfort evident in her tone, "Do you actually have to place them around the house? Can't you keep them locked up or something?"

You glance at Jaeyun, hoping for a flicker of reassurance in his eyes, but they remain devoid of emotion, sending a shiver down your spine. It's unsettling to see him so detached, his usual warmth replaced by an eerie emptiness.

Gathering your resolve, you pick up your glass and move to stand beside Jaeyun, offering him a supportive smile before responding to Mia. "It's part of the job, Mia. Soonyeol entrusted me with the responsibility of caring for them," you explain, your voice tinged with a mixture of obligation and fondness.

Mia scoffs at your explanation, "Girl, you're in a mansion on your own, just clean up on the last day. It's not like she would notice," she suggests, her nose upturned in disdain. You can tell that this whole situation is deeply unsettling for her, a puzzle she can't quite solve without knowing the full truth. She will never understand until she’s in your shoes.

"It's... nice, to look after them like this," you say wistfully, casting a fond glance down at Jaeyun as you speak.

Unable to resist the urge to offer him a comforting touch, you reach out to tuck a loose strand of Jaeyun's hair behind his ear, a small gesture of affection. Jaeyun wants nothing more than to nuzzle himself into your touch but Sunghoon’s words are still ringing in his mind.

Mia observes your interaction with a mixture of curiosity and concern, her eyes flitting between you and Jaeyun as if trying to decipher the unspoken language passing between you. You’ve only ever looked at one other man the way you look at him and it was your high school sweetheart.

The connection you share with Sunghoon and Jaeyun is utterly unlike anything you've ever known. They resonate with your soul in a way that defies rational explanation, leaving you convinced that they must be otherworldly beings. There has to be more to them than just kindred spirits trapped in the shell of these dolls; no mere human soul could evoke such a profound hold over you.

She scoffs and laughs in disbelief at your act of affection, “You’ve lost it, completely lost it. Being in this house alone has driven you to insanity,” she shakes her head, crossing her arms.

You retract your hand from Jaeyun and look at her in wonder, “What do you mean?”

It’s completely lost on you how this could look to her because for you this is normal. Soonyeol was strange in your eyes when you first arrived, Mia also accused the owner of being crazy, but now you understand Soonyeol and her attachment to her dolls.

Mia's incredulous gaze flickers between you and Jaeyun, her words dripping with disdain. "Look at you fixing that stupid doll's hair!" she exclaims, her voice laced with exasperation as if your actions are the epitome of absurdity, "You're going to turn into that creepy bitch who lives here."

Her words cut through the air like a knife, slicing through the fragile peace of the moment. You can’t feel it but you know Jaeyun would be tensing under her words if he had the ability to. Jaeyun doesn’t like it when people talk bad about his owner, especially since the reason Mia finds her so creepy is because of him and his brothers.

He does understand to an extent that Soonyeol being so young and cooped up with four dolls in a mansion that can only rival the one in Saltburn might be seen as weird, but that doesn’t mean he wants to hear about it, considering the passing comment is from someone who knows nothing about her.

You place a calming hand on Jaeyun's shoulder, your protective instincts kicking into high gear. "Listen, if you're going to run your mouth, just fucking go," you retort harshly, your voice fueled by your need to shield Jaeyun from Mia's unnecessary commentary.

Mia's eyes widen in disbelief, her expression a mixture of shock and frustration. "Y/N, listen to yourself," she chides, her voice tinged with a hint of disappointment, “You've gone stark crazy... maybe you should come home-"

"No!" The word bursts from your lips in a panic, cutting off Mia's well-meaning suggestion before she can finish. The thought of leaving sends a wave of fear coursing through you.

Mia recoils at your outburst, taken aback by the intensity of your reaction. "Y/N, I don't think it's good for you here," she pleads, her tone softening as she reaches out to touch your arm.

But you pull away, shaking your head vehemently. "You literally said I was glowing all but 10 minutes ago," you snap back, narrowing your eyes at her, "Just fucking go."

There's a moment of tense silence as Mia processes your words, her expression shifting from concern to anger. She knows there's no reasoning with you when you're in this state, and she can sense the wall you've built around yourself.

"Fine. I'll see you when you screw your head back on," she spits out at you, her voice dripping with ire and disappointment. With one final, venomous glare at Jaeyun, she grabs her bag and storms out of the room, her footsteps echoing through the halls.

You're left standing there, the echoes of her departure ringing in your ears. Despite the sting of her words, you can't bring yourself to regret your decision to kick her out. At the end of the day, this is the dolls’ house and you wouldn’t like it if someone came into your flat and disrespected you or your belongings.

But you can’t help but process her words as you calm down. You know she is just looking out for you, showing her genuine concern because she knows what isolation can do to someone and their mental state, and maybe she is right. You are attached to the dolls way beyond your own comprehension and it’s taken you just now to truly realise it.

You cussed out your best friend to protect the feelings of a doll. It's a sobering thought, one that fills you with a sense of unease and self-doubt.

Maybe you should have gone with her, go back to your normal life, and forget about this place.

In the silence of the room, you turn to Jaeyun, and suddenly any wish to leave vanishes. Just like that. His face now upturned to look at you with sorrow. He looks so beautiful in this light that his being is almost angelic.

You cup his face with your hands, using your thumbs to stroke any semblance of comfort into him before speaking, "She doesn't mean it, Jaeyun," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper in the hushed atmosphere of the room, "She just doesn't understand."

Jaeyun nods slowly, knowing that you’re trying to appease his mind but what’s said has already bruised him.

Kissing Jaeyun's nose, you offer him a tender smile before gently patting his cheeks. With a sigh, you reluctantly release your hold on him, the weight of the moment hanging heavy in the air, "I'll go check on the others," you murmur softly, "I'll be back in a bit."

_____

You shake off whatever you’re feeling and head through the mansion to help the other dolls. Admittedly, your task for moving them around has become much easier now that Jaeyun and Sunghoon move freely except for dinner time, which has freed up a good chunk of your time.

Each step you take echoes softly off the aged floorboards, their worn surfaces groaning beneath your weight. Sunlight filters sparingly through the windows, casting long shadows that dance across the dimly lit passages, adding to the eerie yet enchanting atmosphere of the mansion.

Sometimes you wonder about its history and its owner. How did a 20-something obtain such a grand house and why does she live alone? Of course, she has the boys but even then you can’t exactly take them on a night in the town. It’s so strange to see someone your age devoid of the usual life a young person would lead; no mobile, no wi-fi, not even a computer in sight.

The more you stay here though, you understand her a little bit better. There’s a comfort in the way this mansion takes your superficial worries away, like how many likes you have on your Instagram post or how people perceive you in general. The eyes that follow you here can’t pass judgment on you, which at the beginning was terrifying but now brings you a strange sort of solace.

As you navigate the labyrinthine corridors of the mansion, you can't help but feel a sense of companionship with the dolls scattered throughout. With each step, you offer a soft greeting to your porcelain companions, their frozen expressions seeming to acknowledge your presence in return. If Mia stayed that day, maybe she wouldn’t have felt so threatened by them.

"Hello there, lovely," you murmur as you pass a doll perched on a velvet chaise longue, her delicate features bathed in the subdued sunlight streaming through the window. You straighten her white-laced dress and smile politely.

Even though the porcelain girl remains silent, you know she’s thankful.

You asked Sunghoon if it was just the four of them who could talk, curious about the dolls that decorate the shelves of the house. He informed you that they aren't sentient beings but each one has a complex past and represents an identity in their own way. Ever since then, you’ve started to view them differently, a new appreciation for them blooming.

While you’re fixing a doll standing regally on the shelf by a towering grandfather clock, her elegant gown billowing around her like a ghostly mist, a faint melody drifts into your ears. It's a common occurrence, though typically happens in the dead of night. Sometimes, in the quiet hours, the strains of a piano tune or the gentle plucking of guitar strings would echo through the halls, adding to the mansion's eerie ambience.

On your first few nights here, it made you quiver under your bed quilt but now you’ve come to find it a beautiful lullaby.

Following the source of the music, you're drawn to the open doors of the music room, their inviting stance beckoning you inside. Peering around the wall, you catch sight of one of the dolls seated with a guitar, fingers moving across the strings with practised ease.

His head hangs low, a curtain of dark brown hair obscuring half of his face, yet you recognize him instantly. It's Jongseong, his broad shoulders and golden complexion a telltale sign, along with his sharp jawline drawing attention to the almost heart-shaped mark on his neck.

You can't help but admire the striking beauty that emanates from him, even in this quiet moment of solitude. Sunghoon and Jaeyun's stories about his kindness flood you and memories of his selfless gestures are etched vividly in your brain.

You recall the time when Jongseong risked getting caught just to offer you a simple plaster for your pricked finger, his compassion shining through despite the potential consequences. And then there are the small, subtle acts of care that he continues to bestow upon you, like the glass of water that mysteriously appears by your bedside table each morning, a silent gesture of his thoughtfulness.

Then there's the delicate daisy that sometimes rests on your pillow before you go to bed for the night, a token from the front garden that Jongseong must have plucked with care, knowing how much you adore its simple beauty. Every day you go outside and admire the flower as it basks in the summer sun, its life a brightness to contrast the otherwise dreary house.

Jaeyun and Sunghoon both deny any involvement in the sweet actions, leaving Jongseong as the only possible culprit.

“You can come in you know,” his voice suddenly speaks over the gently strum.

Your breath catches at the unexpected sound of his voice, and you freeze in place, startled by his acknowledgement of your presence. For a fleeting moment, you wonder if you imagined it, but the gentle strumming of the guitar persists, a soothing backdrop to his quiet words.

With cautious steps, you inch further into the room, the rhythmic thud of your heart echoing in your ears and adding percussion to his song. Jongseong's gaze remains fixed on the strings of the guitar, his hair casting shadows across his face that do little to mask his smirk.

Now how does he know that you know about him?

Jongseong suddenly screeches the guitar to a halt, his eyes lifting to meet yours with an air of knowingness, "You seem in shock for some reason," he observes, his voice soft yet perceptible in the stillness of the room. With careful precision, he returns the guitar to its glass cabinet.

Your heart skips a beat, torn between maintaining the facade of ignorance and embracing the truth about Jongseong's secret. As his gaze holds yours, uncertainty gnaws at you, leaving your voice hesitant and faltering. "I... I am?" you manage to utter, the words tinged with a hint of doubt.

Wow, so convincing, Y/N, you internally chastise yourself for the lacklustre response, feeling the weight of your indecision bearing down on you. But before you can gather your thoughts and make a quick save for your fumble.

"Jaeyun and Sunghoon are terrible liars," he remarks, his voice calm and composed. "And I saw you just there, comforting Jaeyun because of what your friend said."

His candid admission catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless. Just like Sunghoon, Jongseong quickly discerned the truth, his thoughts solidified by Mia's careless words and your instinctive need to shield Jaeyun.

Exhaling slowly, you release the tension that had knotted your muscles, allowing yourself to relax a fraction. "She really doesn’t mean it," you clarify to Jongseong, hoping to ease his mind as you had done with his brother.

"It’s okay, you look fucking crazy, to be fair, fussing over some dolls," he replies, his tone surprisingly nonchalant, much to your relief. Considering Jongseong’s caring nature, you wouldn’t want her words to bruise his kind spirit.

You bristle at his casual reference to them as 'dolls,' unable to bear the thought of diminishing their significance, "You aren’t just 'some dolls,' Jongseong," you protest, your voice laced with compassion.

Rising from his seat, Jongseong offers a faint smile as he approaches you with unthreatening steps. "We know that, but she doesn’t. Don’t be too hard on her," he reassures calmingly, his words like a balm to the part of your brain that had been feuding with Mia, now quieting and subsiding under his simple wisdom.

As his hand gently strokes your hair, you feel a sense of comfort wash over you, his touch soothing the lingering unease in your mind. His fingers then trace down to your chin, his touch tender, "You’re good with him, you know, with Jaeyun," he observes softly, his eyes holding a depth of understanding that draws you in.

"He brings out a protective side of me, I don’t really know why," you admit quietly, your eyes locked with Jongseong's as you speak. His half-smirk in response only deepens the adoration reflected in your widened pupils. He closes his eyes like he knows something you don't.

Jongseong playfully pinches your chin before withdrawing his hand, "Yeah, Soonyeol has been the same ever since she got him," he remarks.

"Have you been here longer than him?" you inquire, your curiosity piqued as you gesture towards the kitchen where you left Jaeyun.

"I’ve been here for…a long time," Jongseong reveals, his voice tinged with a hint of reminiscence, "Heeseung for 8, Sunghoon for 4, and Jaeyun just over a year.."

The weight of his words swirls in your mind, each year marking a chapter in their shared history within the mansion's walls. You find yourself marvelling at the depth of their experiences, each doll carrying different memories and stories within their hollow frames. It now makes sense why Jaeyun knows so little.

That nugget of information must also mean that Jongseong knows everything there is to know about this place, about each of his brothers, if he has been here for so long. Maybe asking him will unlock the mysteries of this place.

"I'm not trying to pry," you begin tentatively, causing Jongseong to lift his brow in curiosity, "But how can you guys...how are you able to talk?" Your voice trails off slightly as you pose the question, a hint of apprehension colouring your words.

To your surprise, Jongseong chuckles softly and smiles wider in response, "Sunghoon mentioned you were snooping around when you arrived," he remarks, a twinkle of amusement dancing in his eyes. After a moment of silence, he lets out a long breath, contemplating his next actions before continuing, "You won't give up until we tell you, will you?"

His words catch you off guard, a mixture of relief and curiosity flooding through you. Despite your initial hesitation, Jongseong's casual response reassures you, hopefully paving the way for an open and honest conversation that can curb your nosiness.

“Come on and I’ll show you.”

_____

With intertwined fingers, Jongseong leads you into the library, your mind buzzing with anticipation at the possibilities of what he could be showing you. You grip his hand tighter, excitement coursing through your veins as he pulls you towards the far end of the room.

But as you near that god-awful painting of the sheep, a sense of dread washes over you, sending a chill down your spine. Suddenly, you release Jongseong's hand, the realisation of what he's doing hitting you like a ton of bricks.

"Oh, no, no, no," you protest vehemently, shaking your head in refusal, "I am NOT going near that room."

Your mind flashes back to the burning sensation in your eyes, the eerie red light searing into your retinas. Over the past few weeks, you've actively avoided that creepy room, refusing to even glance in its direction. Your curiosity may be insatiable, but you draw the line at risking letting out whatever is in there just in the name of discovering a secret.

Your irises mirror the turmoil within you, reflecting the fear and trepidation that grips your heart. You've made a vow to steer clear of that door and any other painting in this place, focusing your investigations on less ominous artefacts like locked cupboards and hidden pages within books.

Jongseong looks at you with concern, his brows furrowing in disbelief as he processes your words, “You know about this door?" he asks incredulously, wondering how on earth you ever managed to find it.

"Yes, and I am not going near it," you retort defiantly, crossing your arms over your chest like a stubborn child, "It almost blinded me!"

As you stand your ground, refusing to budge an inch, Jongseong's expression softens, his concern evident in the gentle gaze he fixes upon you, "I promise you, Sweetheart, there is nothing in there that can hurt you, not when I'm with you, okay?" he reassures, his hand finding yours once more as he brings it to his lips, kissing away the surge of fear that threatens to engulf you.

You can see the sincerity in his eyes, knowing that he will protect you from whatever dangers may lie beyond that wooden door.

With a hesitant nod, you allow Jongseong to lead you forward, you trust him but you’re still cautious enough to keep your wits about you, trailing two steps behind him.

Reaching the top of the wooden panel that frames the door, he takes the spare key and unlocks the door. It was really in front of you the entire time and you had no clue; you’re no Sherlock Holmes, that’s for sure.

You let out a breath and scrunch your face, being ready for anything as he swings the door open. Yet, you’re met with darkness - no red light, no flickering flames, nothing like what you saw through the keyhole.

But why does that scare you more?

Jongseong pulls you in, his grip on your hand loosening as he flicks on some lanterns. The room, once plunged with darkness now has a soft glow from the lanterns as they gradually illuminate the space, revealing its secrets in flickering shadows.

It's a stark contrast to the rest of the mansion, with its black stone walls absorbing the light rather than reflecting it. The air feels heavy with the weight of something you can’t put your finger on, every corner whispering tales of those you’ll never understand or know.

In the centre of the room stands an altar, its surface weathered with age and a stone bowl resting atop it like an ancient relic. Symbols etched into the stone tell stories that you can’t translate, the old language lost on you.

As you take in the sight before you, a shiver runs down your spine, a mixture of apprehension and curiosity coursing through your veins. Where did the red light come from if everything in here looks like it belongs in the Addams Family house?

"What is all this?" you ask, your curiosity overcoming any sense of apprehension as you creep closer to the altar. It's reminiscent of ones you've seen in movies depicting satanic rituals, yet even with its eerie aura, you can't resist the urge to touch it, your fingers tracing the lines of its rim.

"The office," Jongseong replies casually, as if this were a mundane space for everyday tasks like taxes and emails. He flicks on the last lantern and shuts the door firmly, ensuring privacy and avoiding suspicion from any passersby.

As you stand mesmerised by the ceremonial bowl, Jongseong notices your admiration and smiles, "This is the ceremonial bowl," he begins to explain, his body now behind yours, his presence both comforting and electrifying as he presses slightly against you. His fingers intertwine with yours, guiding your touch along the edge of the bowl, "This is how we were summoned"

"Summoned?" you echo, your voice barely above a whisper as you turn to face Jongseong, your eyes wide with disbelief and intrigue.

“Oh, Sweetheart, to bring a doll to life, you need to give it an entity.”

“An entity as in…”

“Any form of life; angel, demon, human, that sort of thing. Someone calls and we answer”

The revelation sends a chill down your spine, the idea of imbuing a doll with the essence of a supernatural being is both fascinating and terrifying.

As you process this new information, you can't help but wonder about the origins of the dolls in this mansion, and the entities that dwell within them. They all possess such different charms and energies that you can only imagine each of them comes from different channels of spirits.

“So what are you then?” you ask Jongseong, your voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of trepidation.

“I’ll leave you to guess that one,” he replies cryptically, pressing himself up against you until your back meets the edge of the altar. The cool stone digs into your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

"But you aren’t scared of me, are you, Sweetheart?" he continues, his breath warm against your ear as he speaks. You shake your head, unable to deny the truth, "Then that will give you some clue," he murmurs, his words hanging in the air between you like a tantalizing riddle waiting to be solved.

You stand locked in this intimate embrace, his presence gentle despite the surroundings.

“What about your bodies?” you inquire, your curiosity getting the better of you even though you're not entirely sure what you're asking. Obviously, they didn’t come from the pits of hell or wherever they're from, but you're curious about how Soonyeol managed to choose four dolls, each so perfectly suited to their personalities.

Jongseong tilts his head slightly, considering your question before responding, "Our bodies are vessels," he explains, his voice tinged with a hint of mystery, “We were crafted by the hands of Soonyeol, infused with the ashes of her loved ones.”

Jongseong's response sends shivers down your arms and legs, his words so compelling that they leave you speechless for a minute, "Infused with the ashes of her loved ones?" you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper, your head whirling, your throat dry as you attempt to swallow your nerves.

But before you can fully process what he said, Jongseong breaks out laughing, the sound reverberating off the walls of the poorly lighted room, "She just ordered them online," he says between laughter, his tone lighthearted. "That part isn't as evil unless you count the CO2 emissions from the planes."

Relief floods through you as you realise he’s just joking. You can't help but join in his laughter, the tension melting away as you shake your head in disbelief.

"Oh, you had me going there for a moment," you admit with a chuckle, feeling foolish for having been momentarily taken in by his playful deception.

Jongseong grins mischievously, his eyes twinkling with mirth, "I can give you the link to the site if you want? I know how much fun you’ve been having with the younger ones," he remarks, his laughter fading into a sly grin.

Your cheeks burn crimson at Jongseong's implication, and you shy away slightly, feeling a familiar wave of embarrassment wash over you. It's the same feeling you experienced when Sunghoon called you out for your rendezvous with Jaeyun, a reminder of the unconventional nature of your relationships with the dolls.

You can't shake the nagging feeling that at the end of the day, you're still fucking dolls, no matter how much Sunghoon and Jaeyun reassure you to embrace it. To be fair, the embarrassment hasn’t stopped you yet.

Seeing your flushed face even in the dim light, Jongseong's expression softens with understanding. He cradles your cheeks in his palms, his touch gentle as he strokes your flushed skin, "I'm not judging you, Princess," he murmurs, his voice tender. "I'm just feeling a little left out." He says playfully, making it hard to tell if he is serious or not.

But still his words catch you off guard and you meet his stare with a mixture of surprise and confusion. At that moment, you realise that Jongseong embodies the best of both worlds - the kindness and empathy of Jaeyun, coupled with the confidence and assurance of Sunghoon, coupled with his charm. It's a combination that draws you to him even more, creating a sense of longing.

Throwing caution to the wind, you act on impulse, letting go of any lingering doubts or hesitations. With a surge of boldness, you lean up and press your lips against Jongseong's, catching him off guard with the suddenness of your actions.

His eyes widen in shock at your sudden boldness, but they quickly darken with unmistakable hunger as he responds eagerly to your advance, smothering your mouth with his.

The kiss is electric, igniting a firestorm of sensations that consume you both, leaving you breathless and craving more. His lips are soft yet demanding against yours, his hands finding purchase on your waist as he pulls you closer, his touch somehow searing hot through your skin.

Jongseong groans as he dances his tongue with yours, the artificial buds on his muscle soaking in your taste. You suck on his tongue softly, eliciting a low snarl from him, his hand coming up to grip your hair roughly, while yours slide up his t-shirt, feeling the bumps of his toned tummy.

Drawing back from his lips, you see his entity burning with desire, his grip on you tightening, “Have you ever been fucked on an altar?” he asks, a smirk obvious on his face even in the dull lighting.

“No,” you breathe out, your chest heaving from the kiss.

“I’ll change that for you…if you’re a good girl,” he teases, the hand wrapped in the strands of your hair pushing your head down until you’re slowly following his guidance, sinking to your knees. From this angle, he looks like a god, a being worth worshipping as his aura glows white.

You know exactly what he wants and you’re willing to give it to him without question.

He undoes his belt with one hand, whipping it off hastily and placing it on the altar. You start to undo his trousers but as you move to assist him, your actions are abruptly halted by a sharp tug on your hair, forcing you back with a gasp.

Tears threaten to well in your eyes as the roots of your hair protest the forceful grip, but Jongseong's touch softens as quickly as it had hurt you, his hand now tenderly soothing the discomfort he caused.

"I need you to be good for me. It’s important to be good," he asserts, his voice commanding yet soft, "Only act when I say so, understood? I don't want to have to punish you, Princess. You don’t want that either, do you?"

His choice of words and gentle warning only add to the dampness in your pants, the material fully sticking to your wet cunt. You swallow hard as every word, every touch from Jongseong ignites your sense of being.

Both his hands are now on your cheeks, trapping you to look at him, “Words, Princess, use them,” he orders.

Shaking your head, you wonder if you want to obey him and avoid punishment as part of you wonders how far he could go with it.

Jongseong’s a gentle soul with kindness pouring out of him, you question whether it’s a facade to hide something more demanding underneath. Either way, you trust him, so even if you wanted to get a little bratty, you know he would cause you no real harm.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, licking your lips as you anticipate his cock laying firm on your tongue.

“Sweetheart, I’ll let you off this once, yeah? Just make sure you listen from now on,” Jongseong offers you a smile, patting your cheeks lightly before continuing, “If you ever want to stop, or I go too far, you tell me immediately. No amount of my pleasure is worth your discomfort.”

Smiling, you nod and quickly remember his instructions, “I will, Jongseong.”

Jongseong's gaze relaxes further with an accepting nod, and his touch is delicate against your skin, "Good girl," he says, his words a quiet affirmation of your submission.

He gives you the go-ahead to continue undoing his trousers which you eagerly do, your fingers quick to release the silver button and pull down his zip, leaving his trousers pooled at his ankles. You can see his member in the protruding silhouette of his boxers. Out of all the dolls, you’ve been most impressed by Jongseong, his cock is everything a person could dream of; girthy, long, like something off of Love Honey in the best seller’s section.

You discard his boxers next, leaving his member to spring into action. He is so fucking beautiful, you think to yourself, admiring every part of the craftsmanship that went into making such a wonder. Raising your hand, you go to wrap your hand around him gently but you pause, realising you probably need to be told that you can indulge yourself.

Jongseong notices your hesitation and lets out a chuckle, his smile morphing into a knowing smirk as you meet his gaze with eager anticipation, "You're free to go, Princess" he announces, much to your delight, and you need no further encouragement.

Grabbing the base of his shaft you pump him a few times, the soft feeling of his skin welcomed along your fingertips. You open your mouth, staring at him as you lick the tip of his shaft a few times, each time pulsing in your hand. The mechanics of these cocks is a wonder, how realistic they all are.

He gathers your hair in his hands, brushing the wispy strands from your face adoringly, careful not to be too rough with you just yet. You look beautiful to him right now, your tongue swirling around his head, the saliva trail you’re leaving behind every time you remove your plump lips to gather your breath. Soonyeol is beautiful, but you’re like his dream come true. There’s a pang of guilt as he thinks about it but when you start sucking his cock lightly, every thought goes out the window.

Hollowing your cheeks, you pump his cock and use your tongue to massage his bell in your warm mouth, the sensation of his cold cock in contrast to your warmth adds a new layer to your pleasure, already excited to feel him deep in your heat.

His size makes it difficult to fully take him in, so you use a combination of hand and mouth technique. You see the small subtleties in Jongseong's expression - the wrinkle of his brow, the tightening hold of his fist that inadvertently tugs at your hair again - and realise he doesn't mind how you are approaching it, he maybe even loves it.

It gives you a flutter in your tummy as you see his jaw slacking and his hips subconsciously twitching with pleasure. You’re an overachiever, have been your whole life, and while this is doing him wonders right now, you know you can do better.

Popping off his cock, you tap him on your outstretched tongue, grinning widely when his eyes meet yours. With his attention on you, you force him back in your throat, gagging slightly but relishing in the burn, your hands gripping his muscular thighs.

He hisses as with each bob, he hits your throat, “Fuck,” he grits out, pushing slightly to test the boundaries, and when you gag loudly, saliva dripping down your chin with a spurt, he instantly retreats, “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he soothes, his hand lifting your chin.

But you liked it, weirdly, the feeling of choking on his cock stirred something inside you, and your thighs become sticky with your arousal that is dripping down - and Jongseong noticed.

“Wait did you like it?” he asks, tightening his hold on your jaw, “You want me to fuck that beautiful throat of yours wide open?”

God, yes.

With a nod and eyes full of want, you silently express your desire for him to completely ruin you. However, as you resume, a swift smack to your cheek jolts you, rendering a grimace as you look up at him, perplexed.

"Words, Sweetheart, be a good girl," Jongseong prompts, his voice carrying both authority and care. A flicker of understanding crosses his expression as he reaches out to stroke your cheek where his hand had landed moments before. "I'm here to give you what you need," he reassures, his touch tender against your skin, "But you have to tell me."

With a deep breath, you muster the courage to voice your desire, "I want you to fuck my throat," you whisper.

"That wasn’t so hard, was it?" he murmurs, his tone gentle as he encourages your honesty. ain some ways, submitting to a man like this is embarrassing, yet you can’t help but feel completely in control at the same time. He’s giving you the option to have whatever you want, something the other two don’t let you do. Jaeyun lets you take control but it’s all for his pleasure, not for your own, and Sunghoon doesn’t let you do anything on your own at all.

As Jongseong begins to push into your mouth, an upsurge of sensations overwhelms you: the hardness of him filling your mouth, the taste of him combining with your saliva, and the sting of tears welling up in your eyes. Despite this, a pleasure runs through your veins, sparking a burning yearning within you, you want more of him, desperately.

Jongseong's voice cut through the veil of your shared satisfaction, "You're doing so well, Sweetheart," he says, his words a calming symphony contrasting to the burning in your throat.

You respond with a muffled moan, your mouth full as you eagerly take him in, your body responding instinctively to his every touch.

"I love how you take me," Jongseong whispers, his voice laced with reverence and desire, "You're so good for me. You were born to suck on my cock.”

His words alone are making your clit throb and you can’t take the emptiness, so, you reach down and dip your hand into your panties, circling your clit in rhythm with his thrusts. He continues chanting your praises, so lost in the feeling of your mouth that he hasn’t noticed you seek your own pleasure.

As Jongseong continues to revel in the pleasure of your mouth, a sudden interruption jolts him from his trance-like state. Feeling the subtle shift in your movements, he realises what you’re up to.

With a swift motion, he withdraws from your mouth, his grip firm on your head as he pulls you up to meet his gaze. The intensity in his eyes is palpable, a mix of desire and admonition as he takes in the sight of you, flushed and needy, beneath him.

"Sweetheart, what do you think you're doing?" he chides, his voice low but commanding, “I didn’t give you permission to touch yourself, did it?"

“N-no…I just need you so bad, Jongseong.”

Your quivering voice of desperation makes Jongseong’s knees weak, that playful yet needy glint in your eye begging him to take you on the altar. He knows he has to punish you but you look so fucking sweet with your lips plump and drool on either side of your mouth that he’s almost forgiving you. You speak about the power the dolls have, but you have no idea the power you hold over them.

But he knows he can't let your transgression go unpunished. With a sigh, he reaches out to cup your cheek, his touch gentle but firm. "I understand, Sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice tinged with feigned regret, "But rules are rules, and I can't make exceptions."

You accidentally let out a groan of frustration, rubbing your thighs together, hoping the friction can tide you over until he touches you.

sighing, Jongseong reaches out to caress your trembling thighs, his touch gentle yet possessive, "I know you're desperate," he murmurs into your neck, teasingly hovering over your nape with his lips, “So get on the fucking altar.”

With a whimper of surrender, you comply without hesitation, the anticipation of what's to come heightening your senses as you hoist up on the alter, positioning yourself on the edge. Every nerve in your body hums with anticipation, the need for his touch driving you to the brink of madness.

You’re glad that you wore a sundress today, planning to have a fun girls' day with Mia had its benefits even if it went horribly wrong.

In an instant, he rips off your panties, tossing them in the alter bowl haphazardly and hikes the skirt of your dress to your waist. Your pussy looks so delectable that he thinks prolonging stuffing you with his cock might be a punishment to himself rather than you.

But Jongseong is a man of his word, and if he doesn’t let Soonyeol away with anything, he certainly can’t let you.

He slaps your thigh sharply, a red mark appearing instantly against your skin, “Move back,” he demands, slapping your thigh once again. His tone is authoritive so you do as you’re told, not wanting to disappoint him anymore.

You spread your legs without direction, hoping your compliance will warrant an early yield in your punishment, whatever it may be. Jongseong licks his lips and smiles triumphantly, falling into your trap.

Yet, just as you begin to feel a glimmer of relief, Jongseong's hand comes down with brutal force, striking your pussy with a harsh slap that echoes through the room. The pain is searing, making you cry out in shock and agony, the sound reverberating off the walls as your body recoils from the impact. Each consecutive smack creates a new wave of pain, coupled with a surge of stimulation that makes you dizzy with sensations.

With each hit, Jongseong's expression regret, yet his actions are a contradiction of brutality, "I'm sorry, Princess," he says between strikes, his voice heavy with sorrow, even as his hand strikes you again, "I know it hurts but every act of defiance deserves punishment," Jongseong whispers, his voice an odd soothing balm, "We’re almost done, just two more, you can handle that right?”

His question, paired with the gentle caress of his fingers against your throbbing pussy, relaxes you, knowing that he meant it when he said he would stop if you wanted him to. Even now, as he looks at you, he's silently permitting you to end this.

But you don't want to. Not yet. The ache between your legs, the desperate need for him, drives you to endure just a little longer, "I can take it, Jongseong," you utter, your voice steady despite the trembling of your body. With a slow exhale, you brace yourself for the final two strikes, determined to prove your endurance and earn the reward awaiting you.

Jongseong's gaze softens with admiration, his hand hovering momentarily before delivering the next blow, "You're so strong, Princess," he murmurs, his voice laced with genuine admiration, "I'm proud of you."

The words, spoken amid your ordeal, fill you with a sense of validation, a reassurance that despite the pain, you're still cherished and valued in his eyes. Even though he warned you this would happen and you disobeyed him, he still gives you praise.

He delivers the last smack with force, putting punctuation on the end of your punishment, hoping that you’ve learned your lesson. And by fuck you have.

Bringing you forward, he sits you up straight, "You've done so well," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your forehead, "Now, let me take care of you."

Without hesitation, he takes his cock and slides himself inside your throbbing pussy, the sensation being both a culmination of need and a reminder of the pain you've endured.

But as he begins to move within you, the rhythm of his thrusts slow and deliberate, you find yourself surrendering to the pleasure that washes over you. The intensity of the moment is overwhelming as you finally get what you've been craving for.

You moan softly, your hands grasping at his shoulders as you surrender to the intoxicating rhythm of his touch.

But just as you feel yourself on the brink of ecstasy, Jongseong pulls out abruptly, leaving you gasping for more. "Please," you whimper, your voice thick with need.

Jongseong's fingers find their way to your throbbing clit, flicking it with expert precision, "Not yet, Sweetheart," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, "I want to make this last."

The sensation is electrifying, sending you reeling with desire as Jongseong teases you mercilessly. "Jongseong," you plead, your voice a desperate cry for more but he only chuckles, his touch driving you to the edge of sanity as he pushes you closer and closer to the brink.

And then, just when you think you can't take it any longer, he plunges back inside you, the intensity of his thrusts driving you to the edge of oblivion once more, "Yes!" you cry out, your body arching against his as pleasure consumes you.

Just as you're about to tip over the edge, Jongseong grips your throat gently, his touch both commanding and reassuring, posing no real threat, "You're such a good girl," he murmurs, his voice low and husky as he grabs your attention, "Yet, you've been so bad. Snooping around, looking at things you shouldn't, fucking things that aren't yours." There’s a sly grin on his face as he pulls out again, leaving your hole clenching around nothing, tears threatening to fall as your impending orgasm is ripped away from you again.

Jongseong continues to torment you, his words cutting through the haze of desire, you can't help but feel a sense of vulnerability wash over you, "Was the last punishment enough for everything you've been up to?" he asks, his tone laced with both curiosity and a hint of warning.

Your breath catches in your throat as you meet his stare, the weight of his question hanging heavy in the air. You know that you've pushed the boundaries, looking around the mansion even when you promised Sunghoon you wouldn’t, and indulged in pleasures that were not yours to claim.

With a shaky breath, you nod slowly, your voice barely above a whisper, "Yes, Jongseong," you murmur, your heart pounding in your chest, "I've learned my lesson."

“Oh, yeah?” he smirks, looking at the ceremonial bowl prettily decorated with your frilly underwear, “You sure?”

Your desperation mounts as you chant a series of "Yes's," your pleas echoing in the cold air of the room. Every fibre of your being screams for him, the ache between your legs driving you to the brink of madness.

And just when you think you can't bear the anticipation any longer, Jongseong plunges back into you, his gaze still fixated on your underwear. The intensity of his thrusts sends shivers of pleasure running through your hot veins, yet beneath it all, a nagging curiosity tugs at the edges of your consciousness.

If you were in your right mind, you would question his fascination with the garments adorning the ceremonial bowl. As he picks up the frilly underwear with his middle finger, a spike of anticipation plagues you, mingling with the pulsating waves of pleasure emanating from his touch. And then, his voice cuts through the air, commanding and authoritative.

"Spit on them, Sweetheart," he instructs, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Without hesitation, you comply, summoning every ounce of saliva you can muster before releasing it onto the delicate fabric. The sight of your saliva coating the underwear sends a shiver down your spine, a mix of arousal and confusion swirling within you.

But before you can question his motives, Jongseong's touch intensifies, driving you to the brink of ecstasy once more and rips it away as he tosses the underwear into the bowl once more.

“No! Please, please, don’t stop fucking me, Jongseong. I promise I won’t snoop around or do anything without you telling me to.”

Your voice is desperate but you don’t care, if he denies you of your orgasm even just once more, you might die on this altar you’re perched on.

Jongseong's eyes light up with expectation, his hand tightening around your throat in a possessive hold while his other lingers over the ceremonial bowl, his muttering casting a dark spell in a foreign language.

Then suddenly, the crimson light floods the room, the same flash of red that almost blinded you. Terror holds you like a vice, pulling at your senses while flames lick hungrily in the air. Instinct urges you to go, to escape the flame that threatens to engulf you, but Jongseong's grip holds you tied to the altar.

There is no escape.

"Shhh, Princess it's okay, it won't hut you. I just need you to beg me," he says, his stare penetrating through the chaos with uncompromising focus, his left hand now sliding to tap on your clit with planned precision, sending waves of thrill surging through your body as he continues, lips hovering yours in a whisper, “Let Hell hear how much you need my cock.”

Hell.

The fire that is burning your skin beside you, that’s what you saw that day through the keyhole, you came face to face with the underworld. And now Jongseong’s opened it up beside you.

Summoning every ounce of courage you possess, you meet his gaze, your voice a trembling whisper as you utter the words he demands. "Please, Jongseong," you beg, the desperation in your tone echoing through the dimly lit chamber, "Fuck me, I need your cock so fucking bad."

His grasp on your throat tightens somewhat, a subtle acceptance of your surrender. With a hungry grin, he moves in closer, his breath hot on your ear, whispering pretty promises, and as his hand continues to work its magic on your clit, you totally yield to him despite the fear rising inside you.

Kissing you, he fucks back into you, letting go of your throat and focusing all his attention on making you feel good, his hands finding home on your hips.

The more you moan, the more intense the fire becomes, some of the flicker burning your arm. Jongseong notices your unease and focuses your eyes to look only at him, “It can’t hurt you, I wouldn’t let them,” he whispers, his words causing more confusion but you’re already so far gone, lost in the feeling of his cock punching into your cervix that you can’t question him.

"You're doing fucking amazing, Sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice filled with admiration and desire. "I want you to scream my name, let all those fucks know what a good girl you are, that you’ll never be like them.” His jab at those below you in the underworld makes your skin tingle.

With each thrust, pleasure courses through you like wildfire, igniting every nerve ending and leaving you breathless with ecstasy. And as you surrender to the overwhelming pleasure, you heed Jongseong's command, your screams echoing through the chamber as you give yourself over to him.

The flames in the bowl seem to dance to the rhythm of you and Jongseong’s passionate encounter, with each blow of his cock piercing your open, the more you cry out, and that excited the crimson glow.

As the intensity of your pleasure builds to a crescendo, you feel yourself teetering on the edge, every fibre of your being yearning for release. And with one final, desperate cry, you let go, surrendering yourself completely to the overwhelming waves of ecstasy that wash over you.

Jongseong feels you coming undone and follows suit, his cock twitching inside you and hips pushing him as far as he can reach inside you.

Once the fires begin to fade, leaving just embers blazing gently in the darkness, you feel yourself returning to reality, your senses gradually returning to you. You notice the air is thick with the odour of burnt cloth and the remains of the fire that previously raged around you.

With a shock, you look down and notice the charred remains of your underwear smouldering in the ceremonial bowl, the flames having eaten them in their fervour. Panic grabs you for a minute, but suddenly Jongseong's voice breaks through the quiet, his words a calming salve.

"I get why the others are obsessed with you, Y/N," he says, his tone filled with admiration and longing, "You belong here, I know you do."

Despite his assuring words and gentle touch as he slips out of you, his hands soothing where he has left marks, lingering questions gnaw at the edges of your mind. "Jongseong," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, "what was that fire? And what did you mean by 'those fucks' down there? Was it hell?"

Jongseong’s expression softens, his fingers gently caressing your thighs, his actions were stupid and selfish in the name of his brothers and Soonyeol. He knows he shouldn’t have done that, but he just had to show you off, let everyone know that you were his at least once, “Y/N," he says softly, his eyes filled with a mixture of fondness and concern, "there are some things you're better off not knowing. Trust me."

His words give you pause but you’re sick of the secrecy now, “Tell me, Jongseong. I will find out one way or another,” you press him, hoping your tone is half as commanding as he was, “Just tell me, what the fuck was that?”

“Go to Heeseung. He can explain it far better than I can and to be honest, I don’t want to see your face when you find out,” he says suddenly, his tone firm but gentle. Confusion flickers in your eyes, but before you can question him further, Jongseong presses a tender kiss to your forehead, “I will warn you though, Sweetheart, he won’t take kindly to being last.”

taglist: @nshmrarki @kgneptun @ui11iane @addictedtohobi @parksunghoonsgf @chaewonshoney @chiiiiiiiiis @lilyuwon @rayofsunshineeee @moon7jay @erehkinnie30 @brownsugarbaybee @minniejenseo @woninluv @jaysluvs @fakeuwus @capri-cuntz @ash024 @who-tf-soddhi @bambangan @vousty @heeseungspookie @alvojake @yorukoshii @haechonly @riftanswhore @belowbun @emi-en @branchrkive @featjunranghae @thejjrl @nyxtwixx @sunghoonnsupremacy @nctislifue @itsnikitty @enhypenlovre

#enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen x reader #jay smut #jongseong smut #jay x reader #aj writes #park jongseong smut #the doll house #enhypen fic

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starleska · 1 year

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If you're still taking writing requests, could you do possessive Wally headcanons?

*cracks knuckles* oh anon, i most certainly can 😈 yandere!Wally fans (me too 😳), this one's for you! (this is less headcanons and more a oneshot... kinda wanna write the whole thing 🙈)

content warnings for possessive behaviour, manipulation, threats, arson, entrapment and kidnapping!

Possessive/Yandere!Wally Darling x Reader headcanons

👁 it all started so well. Wally was a Darling both in name and behaviour, and you fell hard and fast. such an attentive sweetheart, from the moment you moved into the neighbourhood it was as if he were always at your side. anywhere else, you may have been unnerved, but Wally's simple warmth and easy smile dispelled all of your doubts. while you tried to spread your time equally between your kind new neighbours, you somehow always found yourself in Wally's presence, talking to him for hours.

👁 in time, you found yourself becoming bolder. you start returning Wally's curious glances, and soon allow your eyes to linger a touch longer than they should. curiously (and with a little bit of a thrill), you notice that Wally seems incapable of breaking eye contact - no matter how long you stare, he'll always stare right back, unperturbed.

👁 one day, you find yourself closer to Wally than usual. you're half-pressed against one another on your sofa, Wally's cheek nestled in the crook of your shoulder. he's drawing something in his sketchbook: an indistinct, wobbly shape that you can't make heads or tails of. while Wally's right hand scribbles furiously with his pencil, the fingers of his unoccupied left hand spill at your side, reflexively clenching every now and again with the automatic motions of his drawing.

👁 the closeness imbues you with a newfound confidence. you take a breath, steady yourself...and reach across, brushing your fingers lightly across Wally's own. Wally's eyes snap towards you. for a moment, his pupils blow so wide you think they might just swallow you.

👁 the next day, your house catches fire. such an incident is unheard of in this neighbourhood, and all your neighbours are horrified for you. however, Wally is strangely calm. "I'm sorry you lost so much," he says, still smiling. "Would you like to live with me?"

👁 you're shaken - but accept Wally's offer. the shock of the fire takes a few days to wear off, but nothing could be more unsettling than living in close quarters with Wally Darling. existing within the living, breathing (creaking? squeaking) walls of his Home has an atypical effect on the puppet. Wally's voice is lower, and he moves with more purpose, as if he and Home are one and the same: symbiotic entities which exist in tandem with one another.

👁 to add to your creeping sense of dread, Wally flips the script on your personal space. now he is the one letting his fingers slip easily around your waist, and fixing you with uncomfortable, impossible-to-ignore stares. you try to laugh off his behaviour, questioning him openly if he enjoys having you as a guest so much. for once, Wally doesn't smile when he replies, "I love you living with me."

👁 it isn't until a week has passed that you learn all the doors are locked, and Wally never gave you a key. you try wrestling with the door handle, but it doesn't budge. then you try the windows, but they're sealed shut. 'I'm not trapped!' you think to yourself. 'Wally is just being a good neighbour - he wants to keep me safe.' but that still doesn't stop you from panicking, scouring the house for the heaviest thing you can find and trying to smash the window. the glass does not break. Home suddenly groans with the sound of a thousand old floorboards and overloaded pipes - a dreadful, ear-rending noise - causing the glass in the window to triple in height and thickness right before your eyes.

👁 terrified, you scramble backwards to run out of the kitchen - only to run smack into Wally. you collapse to the floor and gaze up at Wally, standing in the doorway with his hands tucked behind his back, that cat's smile of his holds some private amusement.

👁 "did you try to leave Home?" Wally asks. "Silly, silly." he takes a step towards you, and then another - slow and loping steps, his cute puppet form now moving in a way equal parts unnatural and sinister. he crouches next to you, those eyes now whirlpools of void which obscure all but the slight white rim of his scleras. "Try again," Wally whispers. "I'd like that very much."

#hoo BOY i think i received this ask blacked out and then woke up with a book 🙈🙈🙈#this kinda stuff is my favourite so i hope you guys enjoy it too 😉#wally darling #wally darling x reader #welcome home #welcome home arg #starleskasks #starleskawrites #tw: manipulation #tw: threats #tw: arson #tw: possessive behaviour #tw: entrapment #tw: kidnapping #wally darling x you

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dustofthedailylife · 8 months

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Genshin Men as Influencers

→ Masterlist || → Taglist

Pairing: Alhaitham, Ayato, Kaveh, Wriothesley, Neuvillette, Zhongli, Kazuha, Cyno, Kaeya, Thoma, Tighnari x (gn!) Reader

Summary: What type of influencer would they be. What do they post.

Tags: Fluff, modern AU, short headcanons

A/N: This was a random idea I got today that I needed to get out of my system. And it got longer than I anticipated, oopsie.

Alhaitham | Bookstagrammer

He is neither someone who wants to stand in front of a camera talking nor does he desire to interact with people much. Yet he has this desire to share his thoughts about the books he reads with someone. When you propose the idea of becoming a bookstagrammer to him he is at first very dismissive about the idea, but eventually caves and creates an account. As it turns out he enjoys it more than he originally thought he would. He writes book reviews, does book hauls, and critical literature commentary. Reels are not his thing and he only posts pictures. His account blew up when he posted a selfie of him while reading a book. To this day he has not the faintest idea why that is what made his account grow exponentially. He turns to you whenever he gets DMs or comments that annoy him. He will sometimes ramble for half an hour about a single comment and explain in-depth why what that person wrote is utterly stupid.

Ayato | Fashion Influencer

He is predominantly a fashion influencer and model. Frequently posting pictures and reels of outfits, hauls as well as model and runway jobs. He is often described as the influencer who "effortlessly combines casual and business chic and turns it into a fashion statement". Always the best-dressed man around, no matter where he goes. Both his enchanting looks as well as his enigmatic personality draw his fans in. He has his own clothing brand for his trademark "casual business chic" which is quite successful. Every new collection is immediately sold out a day after launch. Yet, despite his fame, you had never seen or heard of him before. You randomly met him at a local bar where he offered to buy you a drink. You talked to him all evening and had just exchanged numbers with him when his face suddenly popped up on the TV screen at the bar. You had to do a double-take and reconfirm that the man on TV was indeed the one sitting in front of you right now. He had seen your glance and was now smiling back at you smugly, visibly enamored by the confusion that was written all over your face. For once he was happy someone didn't outright recognize him and just genuinely interacted with him without any second thoughts. And he fell for you right then and there.

Kaveh | Lifestyle Blogger

This man has so many things he loves he can't just decide on one thing. So he does kind of everything and his followers love him for it. He is smart, good-looking, artistically gifted, enjoys food, drink, fashion, and is into the latest gossip. His feed is a bit of everything, art gallery visits, food posts, fashion photos including OOTD, motivational quotes and more. He has a loyal fanbase that would do anything for him. They lovingly refer to him as "babygirl" all the time. When you become a couple he incorporates you into his posts and videos as well which lands you a couple of very angry DMs of fans who have formed a parasocial relationship with your boyfriend. And while you just ignore them, Kaveh absolutely can't and won't tolerate this behavior towards you so he replies to them from your account with an angry picture and a long DM. In all honesty, he is more upset over the messages than you are.

Wriothesley | Fitness Blogger

He is your classic fitness blogger and personal trainer. He posts training videos, nutritional advice posts as well as gym pictures of himself and fitness modeling campaigns he gets invited to. And he is quite successful at what he does. When you start dating you're not at all surprised when you learn what he does for a living. A man with his physique? Of course, he would be successful. You mutually decide to keep your relationship out of the public eye. Both because he wouldn't want you to get exposed to potential negative press or hateful DMs. But of course, paparazzi are more watchful than anyone ever could be. So naturally a picture of him and you kissing soon adorns every gossip magazine front page including your name and Instagram profile (because of course they also found that out...). Not long after #WrioYN starts trending. The posts under the hashtag are a mixed bag of either excited fans and positive articles or angry fans and negative press, who say that you aren't good enough for him. Since your relationship is out of the bag now, Wriothesley decides to take you with him to the next red carpet event where he provocatively and fiercely kisses you in front of everyone to show the world what he thinks about their opinion. You're his and he is yours, and no one would ever be able to change that.

Neuvillette | Food Critic

He is one of the most famous food critics around and gets invited to various restaurants all around the world. He writes reviews for the things he eats and drinks and rates the restaurants without mercy. If your restaurant gets a bad review from him you might as well lock the door and close forever. He rose to fame through a video that went viral where he taste-tested a variety of different water brands, grading them on a scale from one to ten as if it was the finest wine. At first, people were amused by the videos and created memes about it until it eventually gave him so much publicity that he was invited to restaurants. So he organically rose to fame practically overnight without even realizing it. This already led to some less nice situations where some angry restaurant owners insulted him in public for ruining their reputation or hate comments under his posts. He didn't understand what he did wrong or why they were so upset with him and he always looked for the fault in himself, socially isolating himself as a consequence. You're always there to lend your ear and shoulder to cry on to him when situations like these arise. He may look tough but you know he has a soft and fragile heart and often takes negative comments about his person way too much to heart.

Zhongli | Food Blogger

He is a food blogger, mostly known for his expensive taste and aesthetic tea brewing videos and it even expands beyond that to clothing and his appearance in general. When watching him prepare all sorts of dishes one could be inclined to think he has all the time in the world. Doing live streams where he brews tea or cooks for six hours or more is not a rarity. His followers love his insight and knowledge about all the ingredients he uses. He always sprinkles in little fun facts, trivia and random bits of information. Being his partner therefore also means you always get the privilege to have the most delicious and fragrant food served to you. If you didn't know better you would think he is a renowned Michelin chef. Food is definitely his love language. Sometimes you and him would do couple cooking streams together and his community is all over you two. You're receiving fanart and people even write fanfics about you two. Generally Zhongli, much like himself, gathers a very level-headed, polite and loyal community around him.

Kazuha | Travel Blogger

He never stays in the same place for long, so much so that at this point his followers aren't even sure he owns a home at all. His feed and stories are filled with magnificent locations from all over the world. From sunsets over to stunning mountain views and sandy beaches. His life feels like a dream. And his followers live it vicariously through him. Always starts his day by posting an inspirational haiku in his story and with supportive words to his followers. The most sunshine and feel-good influencer around and most certainly a good role model. You accompany him on most of his travels but mostly play the role of the camera person and photographer for him since he wants to keep your relationship private. Until one day he pulls you in front of the camera during one of his livestreams and passionately kisses you on the lips before blushing and turning the stream off right after. When you ask him what made him change his mind he tells you that his heart ached due to the rumors of him and another influencer dating and he wanted to get them out of the world once and for all. Needless to say, your heart and the press are on fire the next day.

Cyno | Entertainer

Of course, Cyno is an entertainer. His intimidating looks paired with an impeccable sense of humor immediately resonated with people all over the place. He quickly garnered a large audience both on Tiktok and Youtube and uploads a new comedic skit at least once a week. He also occasionally does some pack-opening streams whenever new TCG card collections come out. You're always there to support him in his endeavors and he is extremely thankful for that. You're always the first to whom he tells his ideas and sometimes you even get cameos in his skits. Some evenings you sit together while playing cards and brainstorming about new video ideas for him.

Kaeya | Fashion Blogger

Fashionista and icon through and through. He loves the spotlight. And his smooth-talking and sly nature has people on their knees for him all over the internet. Unfortunately, that causes him to have the most obsessed and delusional fans around. He mostly posts OOTD posts, fashion inspo and clothing hauls as well as various photographs of modeling jobs. He often goes live on Instagram and Tiktok to interact with his fans. Sometimes you ask yourself how he even manages to hold a conversation with them, considering that most of the comments and chats he gets are simping. But he is just a natural-born influencer. Knowing his bold nature it doesn't surprise you when he pulls you in for a long and intense kiss on the red carpet one day. Until now you had publicly taken on the role of his manager to disguise yourself. It was an idea that came from his actual manager. The reason for that is to divert the attention away from you and spare you from the wrath of his crazy fans. Seems like he finally grew tired of the act. His smug smile, the flurry of flashing cameras around you, and the feeling of his lips pressed against yours were proof enough of that.

Thoma | Food Blogger

Another food blogger and a really good one at that. The handsome blonde mostly posts aesthetic cooking videos, cooking ASMR videos, quick meal-prep recipes for a busy day-to-day life, as well as comfort food recipes. His fans say his tasty creations aren't the only snack on screen though. Interviewers always ask him about his opinion on what his fans say about him, which always causes him to laugh with a shy smile and a blush across his soft cheeks. He also often posts stories and gives some tips for chores and various other activities like knitting, cleaning, and other useful lifehacks. Occasionally he also uploads pictures of new recipes he is working on behind the scenes in his story. All of this earned him the title of the "Malewife Blogger" quite early on in his career and he fully embraced the title. He even has merch designs referring to the nickname his fans gave him. You are always the first one who gets to hear about his new ideas or gets to review and taste-test his recipes. You often tinker around on recipes with him until late at night. You also help him with the launch of his first cookbook by typing out all the recipes and editing the cover image of him standing behind the kitchen with his signature red apron and smile. And you would agree with his fans, the biggest snack in that cookbook is right on the cover.

Tighnari | Garden & Wildlife Blogger

He blogs about all sorts of wildlife, survival tips, and environment protection and gives gardening tips. His sassy and incredibly sarcastic nature and reactions to some comments are what draw people to him. He makes people aware of how ecosystems work and how to live in harmony with them. He sometimes posts reaction videos and stitches in reply to people treating nature in a disrespectful manner and goes on entire tirades about it as well. He suggests environmentally friendly products and eventually even launches his own brand of environmentally friendly cleaning agents he produces himself. Needless to say, it's a complete hit among his fans. You are supportive of his videos and often help him with filming and editing them. You went on trips with him even before he started his social media career so seeing him become famous and successful with what he enjoys most fills you with joy.

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

#genshin impact #astronetwrk #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin headcanons #genshin brainrot #alhaitham x reader #ayato x you #wriothesley x reader #neuvillette x reader #zhongli x reader #kaveh x reader #kazuha x reader #cyno x reader #kaeya x reader #thoma x reader #tighnari x reader #🍁 dust writes #🍁彡 gi

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dirtytomatoedwrites · 8 months

Text

INDEBTED

Summary: When your father's scandal threatens your family's legacy, Rafe makes you an offer you can't refuse.

Paring: Rafe Cameron x KookFem!Reader

Strictly 18+ No Minors to Interact

Warnings: Dark!Rafe, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Coercive Behaviour, Choking, Graphic Scenes / Smut.

Word Count: 4.8k words

Author's Note: 1000 followers! Wow, I never thought I'd reach 1000 followers. A part of me believes that half of these are bots, but regardless, to those who are real and have decided to join me in my little corner of the Tumblr woods, thank you. Your love and support, especially during these trying times, means a lot. I had this one shot sitting in my drafts for a while and thought I'd finish the damn thing and share it as a thank you. But heed those warnings : it's a dark one. Much love to you all ❤️

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Please don’t steal or copy bits of my writing or any writing from other writers cause karma will get ya.

Embezzlement.

What a weird word.

It rolls off the tongue with an unfamiliar bitterness. It's the kind of term you'd see in a crossword puzzle, nestled between "clandestine" and "malevolent." You never imagined it would be splashed across news headlines with your family's name and the face of your father in the centre.

For years, your family was among the shining stars of Figure 8, leaders in hospitality, prestige, and wealth. Your home was the epicenter of elegance, the heartbeat of social galas. But now, news vans line the perimeter of your estate, their cameras hungry for a glimpse of the fallen dynasty. While online vultures, under the guise of investigative websites, sift through every chapter of your family's history.

Naturally, it caused a ripple, and as the waves of the scandal crashed onto the shores of Figure 8 with relentless force, family friends who once sought your company now wrestled with their association to yours. The 'friends' who once envied your galas and soirées now whisper behind closed doors.

It was the talk of every gathering. At lunches, tennis courts, even the marina; your family’s name was whispered with a mix of pity and sensationalism. Every disclosed detail, every leaked piece of evidence, threatens to shatter the glass pedestal upon which your family once stood unchallenged.

Yet, amidst the tempest of rumors and glares, your mother remains the eye of the storm. Resolute and graceful, she doesn't waver. The titan of Figure 8's social scene, she's always known how to command a room, and this scandal won't rob her of that gift.

Tonight, at the Midsummer ball, she's an emblem of defiance against the rising tide of whispers. And she does it so effortlessly. She glides through the crowd with that same charismatic charm. She smiles warmly, asking about children and recent vacations, pets, and passion projects, extending olive branches even when met with frosty receptions and curt replies.

You, however, are not as composed. The weight of judgmental gazes is too suffocating, the murmurs too piercing. The confines of the ball, with its glittering chandeliers and faux smiles, become a prison. With each passing moment, the walls seem to close in further. You need air. A moment of solitude. An escape from the suffocating pretense.

Whispering a quick excuse to your mother about needing the powder room, you slip away. The soft hum of the party fades behind you as you venture down a paved stone path, leading to the beach. The cool breeze and rhythmic waves provide solace, a stark contrast to the stifling ambiance of the party.

You had taken off the flower crown your mother had insisted you wear and were about to remove your shoes when you heard it: the soft crunch of footsteps on sand, drawing closer.

Hesitantly, you turned, finding him. The one whose eyes often sought yours in a crowd. Whose lingering gazes you'd always felt but habitually ignored. The same person who continually asked you out, oftentimes rudely and crudely. The one you had rejected, rebuffed, and shut down more times than you could count.

Rafe Cameron.

"Came to rub salt in my wounds?" you asked, unable to mask the bitterness in your voice.

"Now why would I want to do such a thing?" Rafe murmured. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, placing it between his lips. The soft flicker of the lighter momentarily illuminated his face, revealing a brief smirk before the darkness cloaked him again. "I thought you might appreciate some company instead."

The word 'appreciate' ricocheted around your mind, sounding almost absurd in this situation. Company? From Rafe Cameron? The notorious Kook King of Figure 8, a classic case book narcissist who, you were certain, had probably raised a toast to the scandal engulfing your family. At this moment, you'd rather eat glass than accept his sympathy. Rolling your eyes, you turned back to the sea, barely acknowledging his presence.

“I'm not in the mood to talk, Rafe," your voice steady but seething with restrained frustration. Your eyes remained locked onto the undulating waves before you. The smell of sea-salt filled your nostrils, and for a fleeting moment, you felt at peace. It lasts all of two seconds before Rafe opens his mouth again.

"Fine, I'll talk. You listen," he asserts, as he settles against a rock. He leisurely inhales from his cigarette before blowing out a plume of smoke into the night air. You can feel his contemplative gaze on you; it becomes evident in the softened timbre of his voice when he speaks again. “You know, it's downright shitty what they're doing to your dad. To your family. To you... I can't stand by and watch."

A scornful laugh escapes you as you finally meet his gaze. "Well, life's not exactly handing out fairness certificates, is it?"

He shook his head, "No, it isn’t. But, it still doesn't make it right. It doesn’t make it fair when your dad claims he’s innocent—”

“My dad is innocent,” you assert fiercely, standing tall, arms crossed defiantly over your chest.

“Oh, I believe he is. But the world? Not so much. Your dad’s always been good to my family. My old man took it hard when he heard. I mean, of all the people on Figure 8 to be arrested for embezzlement, your dad was the last person anyone would suspect—”

“What's your point, Rafe?” You snapped, clearly about to lose the last shred of patience you had.

"I’ve been thinking about it alot, and maybe my family can help.”

Skepticism etched itself clear as day on your face. It seemed ironic that Rafe felt his family could help when Rose and Ward shunned your parents the moment the news broke.

“And how do you propose to do that?" you asked, your voice tinged with mistrust.

Rafe shrugged, a casual gesture that contradicted the gravity of the situation. "My dad, he's got connections—”

“So do mine,” you shot back.

“But did yours play golf with Senator Whitfield every Saturday? Rain or shine? Nah, didn’t think so.”

You felt a moment of silence envelop you both, the distant murmurs of the sea a constant reminder of the world moving around you.

"Alright, I'll bite," you said with a lick of your lips. "What do you want in return? You're clearly not doing this out of the goodness of your heart."

Rafe flicked his cigarette onto the sand, extinguishing it with a deliberate twist of his shoe. As he stepped closer, moonlight illuminated his eyes, giving them an almost predatory glow.

“You've got me," he admitted, his smirk devoid of warmth. “I do want something in return. Something that has been on my mind. Something I’ve wanted for a long time now. You."

A shiver raced down your spine, a cocktail of revulsion and trepidation. Retreating a step, your voice quivered but remained defiant.

"So, you're after a date?" You clarified, eyes narrowing. The same date he'd pestered you for, relentlessly, over the past year. The same date you'd denied him repeatedly, because despite being handsome, Rafe Cameron's moral compass seemed nonexistent.

Rafe scratched his ear as he moved slowly toward you, his expression pained as though what he was about to reveal would hurt him far more than it would hurt you.

"Yeah, see, a date won't begin to cover what I'm risking for your old man, given his rap sheet is longer than my arm. No, what I want is far more... rewarding," his voice sank to a sultry whisper as he towered over you.

"And what would that be?" you asked, tension crackling in the air between you.

"I want to be able to fuck you whenever and however I want—for a month, maybe two, perhaps even a year..." he shrugged slowly, "The specifics are negotiable, but doesn't that sound fair? A little pussy in exchange for your dad's freedom?”

The slap was instinctual. Swift. The sting on your palm matched only by the shock on Rafe's face. For a split second, everything was still.

Rafe's eyes turned to steel, his demeanor shifting chillingly in a heartbeat. He closed in, his voice a venomous whisper slicing through the salty sea air. "You must have a death wish," he hissed, an unmistakable dangerous edge to his words. His hand gingerly brushed his reddening jaw, his piercing gaze never leaving yours. "Your dad's freedom? It's dangling by the thinnest thread... The right words from a senator could decide whether he walks free or becomes someone's bitch behind bars."

He paused, his gaze falling to the flower crown in your hand. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out to touch it, his fingers lightly tracing the delicate petals, an almost gentle gesture that was jarringly at odds with the tension of the moment.

"If you want to help your dad, having a friend like me might be your best bet." he murmured. "Think it over, yeah?" His gaze lifted back to yours, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Fuck you, Rafe," you whispered, disgust fueled your retreat as you stormed away, his chilling laugh echoing ominously in the night air.

"You will, princess. When you come to your senses, you will."

Rafe's lingering words pressed on you, growing heavier with each breath. The looming possibility of your father's life behind bars became ever more ominous as Rafe presented a potential solution—a solution with an inconceivable price tag.

How could he even insinuate such a thing? The mere suggestion repulsed you, igniting a fury at Rafe's audacity. Yet the unease gnawing at your belly made you question: to what lengths would you go to save your dad? With your family facing disgrace and teetering on the brink of bankruptcy, Rafe's proposal offered a faint glimmer of hope, even if it took the ugliest of forms.

In the solitude of your bedroom, the pristine walls seemed to close in, just like the midsummer ball. Picking up your phone, you stared at the screen, the bright white light harsh against the dim setting. The contacts list stared back, an overwhelming list of names, none of whom had reached out during your family's time of need.

You scrolled, hesitating briefly before landing on Rafe's name. A whirlwind of emotions — from anger to desperation — consumed you as you pressed on it. Trembling fingers typed, deleted, and retyped a message multiple times, finally settling on the simplest of words.

"We need to talk."

Almost immediately, three dots danced on the screen.

"Tomorrow 7pm, Tannyhill.”

Was Rafe’s curt response.

You could barely sleep that night, as your mind raced, forming what you hoped was a semblance of a plan. You needed to negotiate on your terms, to retain some shred of dignity. It wasn't a detailed strategy, but it was enough to at least get through Rafe's offer with your sanity.

The next day as you approached Tannyhill, you whispered silent affirmations to yourself, reaffirming your resolve, your worth, and the necessity of your mission.

And then, there he was. Rafe Cameron, leaning casually against the frame of the ornate door, a picture of wealth and arrogance, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within you. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you in the impending darkness of the evening.

Rafe opened the door for you, his face betraying a flicker of something you couldn't quite read, but there was no turning back now. You stepped in, ready to negotiate with the devil himself if it meant saving your family.

"Where's everyone?" you asked, there was no point in exchanging pleasantries. Nothing about the situation was remotely pleasant.

"Movies. You know, I hadn't expected a text from you so soon." his voice dripped with condescension, "I was betting on at least a week or two."

"Yeah well, it is my dad's life on the line," your footsteps echoed with purpose as you followed him into the living room, eyes steeling for the battle ahead. "The sooner we finalize our agreement, the quicker you can pull whatever strings you have, right?"

Rafe spun around, his gaze locking onto yours. The sly curve of his lips unsettling. "Sure, I’ll make a few calls,” he stated, voice dark and sardonic, "but it'll depend on the terms we agree to."

"Alright…” you braced yourself, your arms folded trying to regain control. "Let's start with how lon--"

“A year,” Rafe cut in, not breaking eye contact.

"That's out of the question. A month," you shot back.

His chuckle resonated with an underlying seriousness, his eyes narrowing in focus "Sure, we can say a month. You willing to fuck me at least twice a day? No? Then eleven."

You straightened your back, your resolve hardening. "Two months, tops."

His eyes gleamed as he considered your counteroffer. "How about this, we keep our little arrangement going until your dad's free. It could be a month, maybe two…” he shrugged nonchalantly “It might even be a year. It depends on how soon he’s out. What do you think?"

You hesitated, visibly weighing the implications of such an open-ended commitment. Your dad’s charges were serious. The chances of those charges disappearing and him being released in a month seemed like a miracle. "What if it drags on for years?" you whispered.

Rafe’s grin grew more pronounced, relishing your distress. "Well, princess, that's for you to decide. You can always walk away whenever you think it’s unbearable. Does that seem fair?"

"Okay, fine. Now about condoms--”

“Not using them--”

“Oh, we’re using them. I’m not interested in having your kid, Rafe, and I’m certainly not interested in catching anything from you.”

“While I should be fucking insulted” he said dryly “I always glove up and get tested regularly too.”

“Okay, so why are you suddenly against using condoms with me, then?”

“Because I promised myself…” he said slowly, his voice lowering as he made his way towards you, “If I ever got the chance to fuck you, I'd do it raw.”

Your jaw clicked, your hands itching to slap him again. “Weren’t you fooling around with Letizia a couple of weeks back?”

“Yeah, so? I was gloved up.”

“I don't care. You've slept with half the girls on figure 8. I want you fully tested before we even think about doing anything. Condoms every time, no excuses.”

“Alright. I’ll get tested. Condoms while fucking, no condoms for blowjobs.”

"Yeah, about that, I'm not doing oral.'” you said folding your arms in resignation.

Rafe's eyes bore into yours, annoyance coloring his features.

"No. No. You don’t get to dictate how I fuck you." he snapped, his voice taking on edge of authority. "Look, i’m willing to let you negotiate a few terms, give you some semblance of control but it’s got to be worth my while, and for it to be worth it, I get to fuck you how I want, when I want.”

You swallowed, feeling your resolve waver.

"Now, here's what I want to make this deal work: when I call, you answer. No matter the place, no matter the time. You show up. Clear?" Rafe said.

You paused before giving a hesitant nod, the magnitude of your agreement dawning on you.

"And if I ask you to wear something specific, you will. No questions. We have a deal?"

Your throat tightened as his demands began to overwhelm you, but you managed a brief nod in response.

"Remember, fail to meet my terms, and our deal ends. Understood?"

Another nod.

"Anything else?"

“When will you make the call?” you asked quickly.

“After our first session,” he proposed, his smile revealing a hint of anticipation. “After that I’ll do whatever I can to make sure your dad’s free”

" I want proof. I want proof that you’d stick to your part of the deal.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it.”

“Good." you said as you took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Get tested and send me the results," you responded, you're tone neutral, treating it as a standard business transaction. "I'll do the same. We can then choose a time and date."

Rafe nodded in agreement, his gaze intense and piercing.

You extended your hand towards him.

"What's that for?" he chuckled lowly.

"A handshake. To seal the deal."

Rafe reached out, his arms enveloping you in a firm yet tender grasp, pulling you against him. It took everything within you to not push him away. "How about we seal this deal with a kiss, hmm?" he murmured, "Especially since we'll be doing a lot more than kissing very soon."

Rafe leaned in, letting his lips graze yours. But you stiffened, instinctively tilting your head so that his lips met your cheek instead. A soft chuckle escaped him as he retreated just a fraction.

“Ah ah” he chided. With his fingers gently but firmly cradling your jaw, he directed your face back to his, an unsettling tension growing palpable between you.

"Play. Nice.” he whispered, his voice considerably smug. "Kiss me. Like you mean it." It wasn't a mere request; it was a command that left you feeling completely cornered.

A battle of wills ensued; neither of you making the first move, both of you waiting for the other to blink first. Rafe's eyes never left your own as he leaned in once again, his determination clear.

His tongue gently pushed past your parted lips, and you allowed it, setting off a delicate yet conflicting dance between your tongues and lips.

Groaning into your mouth, his eyes shut as the kiss deepened, carrying an undeniable intensity. He sucked on your bottom lip, nipping at your tender flesh until his tongue lashed hungrily against yours sending a peculiar mix of tingles and dread coursing through you.

Finally, you pulled away from the kiss, catching your breath while your chest heaved. Rafe remained close, his lips just a whisper away from yours, his breathing matching your intensity.

"I'll get tested first thing tomorrow," he whispered, his voice thick with urgency and desire. "Make sure you do, too."

"All clear."

That was the message Rafe sent you two days after your heated conversation, accompanied by a screengrab of his test results. Without hesitation, you replied, sending him your own results in return.

As your fingers tapped across the screen, a surge of disgust washed over you. The very idea of being intimate with Rafe was anything but appealing; it fact, it made you feel sick.

You'd never choose Rafe of your own volition. Sure he was handsome but his excessive drinking and drug habits were repellant, and his disdain and bullying nature towards the Pogues was disturbing. None of his qualities were remotely attractive, let alone fuckable.

But then, the stern, resilient part of you asserted itself, urging you to focus on the goal at hand.

This was not about you or Rafe; it was about orchestrating your father's release from prison, a critical mission where failure wasn't an option. With this clear objective ingrained in your mind, you steeled your resolve, preparing yourself for what lay ahead.

When he proposed meeting up that same night, you didn't find it strange given Rafe's impulsive nature. However, the location he suggested did catch you off guard.

It wasn't Tannyhill, the somewhat familiar and comfortable place you had anticipated, but instead, an unfamiliar address. The randomness of the location set off tiny alarms in the back of your mind, making you wary but you took a deep breath, quickly typing out your response-

"I'll be there."

It wasn't just any random address, as you initially thought.

At the front of a gated tree-lined drive stood a prominent sign declaring, “Cameron Developments.” The freshly poured concrete and stacks of lumber clearly indicated that it was a home under renovation.

As you made your way along the winding path, unease gripped you, but the sight of Rafe’s truck haphazardly parked near the entrance reassured you that you had indeed reached the right place.

The estate was draped in an unsettling darkness, punctuated only by the soft chirping of crickets, the distant hoot of an owl, and the sporadic glow of work lights from inside, hinting at the ongoing renovations.

Exiting your car, you took a moment to absorb the scene before approaching the house. With each step towards the porch, your heart rate quickened. But before you could even announce your presence, the heavy door groaned open, revealing the looming presence of Rafe.

His expression, obscured by the shadows and dim work lights from within, gave away nothing. Without a word, he stepped aside, allowing you to enter, then closed the door and locked it.

A knot formed in your throat, a cocktail of dread and adrenaline. Pushing the mounting fear aside, you gathered your voice, attempting to sound braver than you felt. "Alright, let's get this over with," you said.

A wicked grin tugged at the corner of Rafe's lips. You felt an icy dread settle in your chest. "Oh, we will," he murmured, "But first, I want to play a game... to make things... interesting." The atmosphere grew heavy, oppressive.

"One minute" he said, as he cracked his neck from side to side, his eyes boring into you. "You get a one-minute head start and after that, after that--" he sighed happily "I'm coming for you. Run."

Panic gripped you. "Run? What? What the hell are you talking about? What do you mean run?" you stammered, your voice edged with rising panic.

But his eyes were cold, devoid of humor or empathy. He leaned closer, his voice a menacing hiss that left no room for interpretation. "Run."

A rush of adrenaline hit you, and without another word, you sprinted past him as if your very life depended on it.

You had no clear destination in mind, only the primal instinct to run and hide. Every fiber of your being was attuned to survival. Heart pounding in your chest, you sprinted up the grand staircase, taking the steps three at a time, feeling the weight of your own desperation in every leap.

At the top, a maze of doors and hallways stretched out before you. You lunged for the nearest one, finding yourself in a dimly lit bedroom freshly painted in white. Shadows danced on the walls from the solitary work light, and your gaze immediately snapped to a closet on your right.

Without hesitation, you slipped inside, gently closing the door behind you. The smell of paint and cedar filled your nostrils. Placing a trembling hand over your mouth, you tried to muffle the sound of your heavy, ragged breathing.

Gently, so as not to make a sound, you nudged the slatted shutter doors of the closet closed, leaving only thin slivers of the room visible – distorted, but enough to keep watch.

The ominous sound of footsteps reached your ears; they were methodical, unhurried. Rafe was searching, savoring the hunt. You watched in horror as his elongated shadow, cast by the work light, drifted across the closet. A cold sweat formed on your forehead, and you had to fight back the urge to gasp as the shadow paused momentarily by the closet doors.

After what felt like an eternity, the shadow moved away, and you heard his footsteps retreating. Letting out a silent sigh of relief, you gave yourself a moment to gather your bearings. But you knew all too well you couldn't remain hidden for long; he would inevitably retrace his steps and find you.

Gathering your courage, you carefully eased the closet doors open and quickly scanned the room for an escape route. Your heart pounded violently in your chest as you made your move. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you tiptoed across the room, avoiding the creaky floorboards that might betray your presence. But the moment you stepped out of the bedroom, you collided with a solid mass.

Rafe's eyes pierced through to your soul, pure hunger reflected in them as he stared down at you. His hand clamped around your throat, pulling you close as the smell of your fear and his cologne filled your nostrils in a nauseating mix. His lips crushed against yours, ravaging your mouth with an intensity that nearly made you faint.

As your fight-or-flight instincts kicked in, you frantically writhed in his grip. Your fists relentlessly pounded against his arm, trying to get him to relinquish his hold on you, but it was no use. In one swift motion, Rafe backed you into the bedroom and forcefully dragged you to the floor, your fingers wildly clawing at his arm as you searched for any type of leverage you could find.

Rafe ravished your neck with unbridled hunger, his other hand violently tugged at your skirt and panties, scraping the skin of your thighs until finding your moist center—the slippery wetness signifying your surrender to pleasure. Rafe groaned as his fingertips slid through your slick folds and into you causing you to gasp at the white-hot jolts of pleasure.

"For someone who's only doing this to save their dad, you're soaked..." Rafe laughed breathlessly, trailing a line of wet kisses up your throat. "All that sanctimonious bullshit about what you will and won't do and look at you, fucking dripping for my cock—”

"Fuck you!" you screeched, a potent mixture of embarrassment and venomous rage coursing through you has you writhing beneath him, your determination to push him off almost frantic.

"That's it—fight back," he jeered, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "Fight back. It'll make this all the more satisfying."

You kicked and screamed, only for Rafe to capture your lips in a bruising kiss. His hands connected your wrists together over your head. In a single move, he flipped you onto your stomach and straddled you from behind, his erection pressing against your ass.

One of Rafe's hands tears off your panties, your screams in protest seize immediately as Rafe stuffed the flimsy cotton into your mouth.

"There" he taunted with a sinister chuckle, pressing you down further as you desperately attempted to wriggle free. You strained to let out a scream, your voice stifled by the makeshift gag.

That same hand worked feverishly to free himself from his pants. You could feel the throbbing heat of his erection at the cleft of your ass. Could hear him tearing open the condom packet with his teeth, the necessary prelude to satiating his ever-growing hunger.

Not too long after he was grinding the head of his cock against your wetness while you fought to express your protests through the gag.

"No, no, this is what we've agreed to. What you agreed to..." Rafe's breath hitched as his cock slid over your weeping slit. With one hard, raw thrust, barely allowing you time to adjust to his girth, he plunged himself deep inside you.

He wasted no time, immediately beginning his relentless thrusts, utterly indifferent to your muffled struggles behind the gag. Your body writhed beneath his weight, your movements punctuated by desperate grunts, the hardwood floor beneath you offering no mercy.

After a brief moment, Rafe released your wrists and drew you closer, his grip on your hips unwavering as he continued to drive into you with unrelenting force. Your head spun as you gradually surrendered to the powerful cadence of his movements. His hands clung to you possessively, guiding both of you in a desperate, synchronized dance. Every nerve in your body ignited, primal heat surging from deep within.

Your eyelids fluttered shut as your body succumbed to his unyielding force. Despite the freedom of your hands, you found yourself paralyzed, incapable of resisting or offering any form of resistance. Instead, you relinquished control, allowing Rafe to claim you entirely.

"I'm gonna fucking cum. I'm gonna cum. Cum with me," he growled through gritted teeth, his tempo increasing to a punishing pace.

You weakly shook your head, 'no,' your determination unwavering as you fought to maintain control over your desires. The mere thought of your pleasure becoming entangled with his, sullied and exploited for his depraved fantasies, was something you could not bear.

"Oh, you'll cum-" he sneered.

In a sudden, ominous gesture, he swiftly removed his leather belt from its loop around his pants and coiled it around your neck, pulling and winding it tightly around his fist.

"If you want to breathe, you'll cum," he snarled, pounding you with relentless force. The room was filled only with the sound of your choked gasps for air, Rafe's ragged breaths, the creak of the leather as he tightened his grip, and the rhythmic punishing slap of his hips against your flesh. You fought with every ounce of your being not to succumb to your impending orgasm, tears streaming uncontrollably from your eyes as you waged a futile battle.

The room reverberated with your agonized screams as your orgasm overtook you. Your muscles tensed and quivered beneath you, each wave of pleasure crashing over you like a violent tsunami drowning you. Your fingers clawed at the belt constricting your throat, the leather biting into your skin and to your abject horror, you were gushing around his cock as you climaxed.

Rafe fucked you with a feverish frenzy, burying his face in the back of your neck. With a triumphant roar, Rafe's orgasm struck, and he shuddered against you, muffling his moans of pleasure into your skin as he stuffed his cock deep.

Sated and content, he collapsed on top of you, his breathing heavy and labored, the condom filled with his cum. After a moment, he withdrew and shifted to lie beside you.

Summoning every ounce of strength you had left, you managed to free yourself from the tight confines of the belt and the stifling gag that had cruelly silenced you. Every fiber of your being, every muscle in your body, screamed with raw pain as you gulped in fresh air, each breath feeling like a hard-won victory. Tears of relief and anguish streamed down your face, and with a shaky hand, you hastily brushed them away.

The room seemed to sway, a disorienting blend of fear, relief, and vertigo threatening to drag you into terrifying darkness.

Yet, slicing through the fog of your distress was the haunting sound of Rafe's laughter. His voice was breathless, yet unmistakably gleeful. His fingers, dampened with sweat, raked through his messy hair, highlighting his heightened state of manic exhilaration.

"Next time," he grinned, a chilling promise lacing his words, "Next time, we'll use rope."

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Thanks for reading x If you enjoyed it please like/reblog/drop a comment would love to know what you think. Until next time ❤️

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