#The other man went home in a cart | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luvyeni · 7 months ago

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PERSONAS ,, 이제노

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ jeno is surprised by your persona... both of them ヾ

PORNSTAR!이제노・ CAMGIRL!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ wc ・ 6.4k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

𓂃 🎞️ content warning... sex on film, rough-ish sex, oral sex ( M ), unprotected sex, facial

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 finally did a fic based on this photoshoot , doesn’t he look like a 80’s pornstar?

camgirling was only supposed to be something you did for fun, and the cash you got from it wasn't too bad either — you never expected to blow up like you did, the people really liked you.

when you first started it was slow, but that didn't last long and soon you gained a small following. it wasn't until you did a face reveal that you blew up — the fans loved you; that day alone you gained 100k new followers. from that day on you only grew more; more money rolled in which granted you the ability to move into a bigger apartment, pay off your debts and live comfortably without stress.

“it's your persona” your friends would say; you weren't shy about you did for work; you felt like you didn't need to be — no you weren't telling a stranger on the street you did camgirling , but you didn't hide it from your friends. “you're a walking porn trope.” donghyuck; your best friend said. “innocent girl next door look , but we all saw you deepthroat a 6in dildo without gagging.”

that should've offended you but you were used to it. “yeah , that pigmented blush bows and wide puppy dog eyes is cute and all, but it's that and the fact that you bounced on a 7in strap-on attached to a stuffed bear that turns people on.” ryujin said. “you have a face for porn.”

“is there a difference?” your friends looked at you. “duh , of course!” haechan said. “camgirling is mostly done in the comfort of your own home , low production.” he said. “porn is different, with porn there's a script almost like a movie with a crew , and another actor.” you and ryujin both looked at each other. “uh you seem real passionate about that…” he shrugged. “I'm a man of course i do , that's why i know you would be perfect for porn.”

“what would i get out of bad acting in room full of men with hardon watching me be badly fucked by another macho man on viagra and red bull?” you scoffed. “expect a sore clit and a cumshot to the face that tastes like battery acid?” ryujin looked around the cafe where you were sitting , making sure no one heard the conversation. “would you both keep it down?”

“more money, a new following.” he responded nonchalantly , your ears perked up. “go on.” you said now listening. “well the website you use now, it's big but it's niche , only a few new visitors monthly.” he started. “you do one porn video with a good actor with a good following , bingo! you get a new following from his following and it reaches a bigger audience who stumble across your video.” you had to admit although he was loud and you're pretty sure the sweet old lady walking past heard everything, he talked a big game.

“what are you a porn star scout?” ryujin laughed while taking a sip of her hot chocolate. “wait is that a thing?” he asked, you shook your head. “that does sound good, my rent just went up and there's a new pair of shoes that have been sitting in my cart.” you said. “yn don't do porn for a pair of louboutins and rent , get a roommate.” ryujin said, trying to be the voice of reason. “would you do it?” you asked her.

“i love you so i would never lie to you.” she said. “yeah , give me the script.” the three of you busting out into a fit of laughter. “plus if you don't like it then you can easily go back to camgirling.” she said. “and i don't think all male pornstars are bad.”

“and you know this how?” she looked at you. “you think i don't watch porn?” she questioned. “the acting? horrible but who's watching porn for the plot.” haechan raised his hand. “haechan be fucking for real.” you snickered. “what big dick delivery man and hot lonely milf is a work of art.” he said with a serious face. “oh he serious i think.” ryujin said. “that's the scary thing.”

“you know not all the acting is bad either.” ryujin spoke up. “yeah jeno is good even my dick gets hard when i listen to him speak.” you choose to ignore him. “who's jeno.” you asked. “you don't know jeno? the lee jeno, he's huge in the porn world.” ryujin said, you scoffed. “sorry im not familiar with the ryan reynolds of porn.” you said. “you think ryan reynolds would do porn?”

“lee jeno is a huge pornstar; he doesn't even just do porn , he's a model, he walks on runways as well , he's invited into classy spaces despite showing the world his dick.” the girl explained. “and i heard the girls he fucks on camera…” she said. “those orgasms are real.” haechan nodded in agreement. “i heard that too.”

“if you could get with him, you'd be set.” you rolled your eyes. “if he's as good as you say why the fuck would he film a video with me?” you scoffed. “pussy is pussy and money is money.” ryujin shrugged , the horrified worker walked past making the three of you laugh. “my god ryu , you sound like a man.”

“check him out; i swear you'll understand why he's famous.”

“come in , come in.” you flashed a smile to the camera; this wasn't a camgirl video, but a regular live that you sometimes did because your fans wanted you to — for what? you don't question, they pay you to just talk half naked. “how was everyone's day?”

you read through the comments; thanking the commenters for the donations. “what did i do today?” you read off. “well i ran some errands, got a few new toys.” you smirked. “oh and i had some coffee with some friends.” you said. “they told me i have a face for porn.”

the comments blew up with people agreeing. “i guess you guys agree as well.” you giggled playing into that act they loved so muched, reading more comments.

6inchking. what i would do to film a video with you.

user34.52. fuck yes , i would kill to see you fuck someone else.

allsizesmatter. you should film with lee jeno.

“oh? i keep hearing that name, my friends said the same thing.” you said. “is he really that good? maybe i should watch some of his videos.” you said, rolling your eyes at the comments that were in disbelief that you watched porn. “guys don't be ridiculous , why wouldn't i watch porn?” you laughed, grabbing your phone. “let's look him up.”

you typed into the search bar; waiting for the screen to load. “let's see if he lives up to what everyone says he is.” the screen finally loading, the most finest fucking man popping up on your screen. “oh he's really good looking.” you said scrolling through the many pictures. “really good looking.” you almost forgot you were on live — not only was his face godly , it looked like he was sculpted by the gods himself.

user24.52. look at her , already turned on just by his photos.

user22.63. to be looked at by her liked that.

“guys stop.” you giggled, cheeks red. “he is cute though.” you said. “im already so tired from the day.” you said; and yes you were tired, but you also wanted to watch on of his videos. “am i gonna watch one of his videos?” you smiled innocently , before shrugging. “i guess you guys will never know will you.” you blew a kiss to the camera. “bye bye.” you turned the camera off.

after that you wasted no time, climbing into your bed. your phone in your hand as you get comfortable, reaching over into your nightstand grabbing your rose toy; taking off your panties , pulling down your bra , sighing as the wind hit your nipples. “fuck.” you scrolled through jenos account— he had 5.5 million followers; way more than your messily 345k, he was a big deal.

you scrolled through his videos , settling on the most recent one. clicking the video — normally you'd skip the whole “acting scene” but this guy was known for his good acting so you decided to see for yourself.

you were a little bored at first, but as the scene went on you came to the realization that it was one of the best scenes you'd ever watched when watching porn, even though the actress was good , it almost seemed like regular video — besides the bright production lights and 4k hd cameras , and the fact that the beautiful actress herself was dressed in expensive lingerie and heels. her makeup done to the nines.

and then there was jeno; he was just as fine on video than in camera. his voice alone had you itching to touch yourself, which you did— fingers ghosting over your nipples; eyes closing. you almost forgot about the video, until you heard moaning. you opened your eyes to jeno sticking his cock into the girl. believe it or not , you weren't fucking just anyone , you actually only had sex with a few people , but their sizes compared to his were vastly different.

you understood why he was so famous; jeno was extremely good at his job. it was like you were watching a real couple fuck in their bed; jeno was rough; but not like those horrible videos where it looked like the girl wasn't enjoying it — the way the actresses eyes were crossed, it looked like she was very much enjoying it.

you curled your fingers up into your g-spot, thrusting your fingers in and out of your dripping hole. your moans , jenos and the actresses filled your empty room. you wanted to drop the phone and just finish already, desperate to cum , but you couldn't, it was like you were in a trance. the actress came with a loud scream. “oh fuck.” you moaned as jeno brought the girl to her knees , cumming all over the girls face — lord how you wished it was you.

your legs crossed over your hand as you came, back arching off the bed. “fuck!” you sighed as you came down from your high , the next random video playing on your phone. you turned it off , desperately trying to catch your breath. he had this effect on you and all you did was watch his videos.

getting up to clean yourself off; washing your body and your hair. getting out , drying off. you threw on an oversized shirt not bothering to put on underwear, it was just you. grabbing a snack before making your way back to bed to watch tv.

meanwhile a few miles away; jeno sat in his chair scrolling through his feed. he hated night shoots , everyone was tired and ready to go home. the actress today just wasn't good , her acting sucked , she was bitching about everything; how she hated the script; how the outfit was ugly — how she wanted him to cum. he was all for women wanting to what they wanted , but damn how was it his fault he wasn't turned on enough to cum as much as she wanted.

“jeno?” his manager and best friend jaemin , walked into his dressing room. “is it time to go?” he said, not looking up. “well … no, she's still complaining, something about you being too big.” jeno smirked. “so we're figuring that out now.” he said. “can we just sat fuck this shoot and go home?” he said. “im doing them a favor, i don't need the money.” he said. “yeah sure.” jaemin said. “what can they do?” he told the assistant on hand to tell them they were leaving. “what did you want?” he said, putting on his sweats. “when? oh to just show you this.”

he pulled the sweatshirt over his head; taking the phone from his friend's hand. “what am i looking at, who is this girl?” he stared at the screen , watching you talk. “she's cute , new girlfriend?”

“i don't date, she's a camgirl.” he scoffed at his friend. “her?” he looked at you once again. “stop fucking around her?” you looked so innocent, dressed like a doll , cute makeup, cheeks extremely pink from blush, normally jeno thinks that makeup look is crazy, but you made it work. “she doesn't even look like she's seen a porn film.”

“not everything is what it seems my friend look.” he clicked another video— and he swore he was watching another girl. “did she just?” jeno was shocked. “yes , she did.” his friend smirked while he stared in shock as he watched you take a 9in toy down your throat without gagging. “no gag reflex , if she has a boyfriend he's a lucky fucking bastard.”

jeno pushed the phone away; not that he didn't want to see it, but he also didn't want to cum in his pants to a video in front of his friend. “why are you showing me this?” he said. “you know i don't do camming.”

“yeah , but people want you both to collaborate. apparently she talked about you today and the internet is going crazy.” jaemin said. “she has good following , not as big as yours , but that shouldn't even matter , bro she doesn't have a gag reflex , i’d do it for fun.” jeno picked his bag up, slinging it over his shoulder. “does she even have a manager? does she even want to do porn? why am i asking the questions that i pay you to already have answered before coming to me?”

“she's a independent artist i think, but I'm sure she'd answer a dm.” jeno lifted his eyebrow. “yeah , because she'd answer a random message asking her does she want to do porn , bro she gets those messages daily.” he said. “im sure i could work it out.” he said. “well then come back to me when you do.” jeno slapped his friends chest. “now let's go im hungry.” he said. “i’ll send you that link to the full video , you have to see it.”

“which one did you watch?” haechan asked. “why are we having this conversation right now?” you said cheeks red. “you've literally told us about how you — the recent one.” you interrupted ryujin before she embarrassed you. “i watched the recent one.” she nodded. “oh that one is good, that actress is hot.” she said , hyuck nodding in agreement. “she is.”

“she was, they both were.” you said. “and the acting was good , i actually watched it.” haechan pointed. “told you sometimes the plot just hits.”

“i thought i was watching a couple fucking, either one , that actress is in the wrong business or two , he's a good fucker and she wasn't acting.” you said. “she actually looked excited for him to cum on her.” you could still hear the moans playing in your head. “okay snap out of it , no one wants to watch you get turned on in public.” ryujin said , haechan scoffed. “speak for yourself.”

you laughed , your phone buzzing making you break away from the conversation; it was a message from twitter dm. you ignored it , thinking it was a normal everyday dm from a fan. you sat your phone down only for it to go off multiple times. “girl you got a boyfriend we don't know about? who the hell is texting you like that?” ryujin picked up your phone. “probably a weird fan, im gonna close my dms”

that didn't stop ryujin from clicking the messages, ready to troll the person. “oh girl , i don't think so.” she handed you the device back. “what is it?”

reading through the text messages. “what is it , don't leave me out.” haechan whined. “it's from jenos manager.” ryujin said , haechan sat up from his seat. “what let me see.” he snatched the phone. “oh my god , jeno wants to film with you.” he said. “it's like the porn gods answered us.”

“must you act like a neanderthal? it's probably a fake account.” haechan clicked the account. “it's verified and there's pictures of them together , they seem close.” he said. “he wants you to call him , he gave you a number to call.” he gave you back the phone. “oh my god let's go back to yours so you can call.”

they basically dragged you back to your apartment after that, forcing you to call the boy. “you both have to shut the fuck up if i put it on speaker.” you said typing down the number into the keypad. “probably about to call a random guy just so he can jerk off to my voice.” you pushed the call button. “don't you do that already.” you scoffed. “yeah but i get paid for it.”

the three of you sitting around the bed waiting for them to answer. “hello?” you picked up the phone. “is this na jaemin?” you said. “yes is this yn? i know your voice— wait, not like that.” your two friends snickered. “it's fine, i almost didn't call you, i thought you were a weird fan.”

“understandable; it's probably a weird text , but it me and everything i sent was true.” he said. “it is?” your eyes widened. “s-so he really does want to film with me?” you asked. “yes , he does.” you wanted to squeal , but you didn't want to seem desperate. “oh that's cool.” you said. “oh that's cool?” ryujin whispered to herself. “shut up.” you gritted through your teeth. “excuse me.”

“oh nothing.” you said. “oh okay, well first thing, we set up a meeting with you both.” he said. “just so when you film it won't be too awkward , then we film.”

“that's it?” you said. “that's it , you both show up to film, we'll provide everything else for you.” you looked at your friends who nodded their heads. “how does that sound?” he said. “i guess that's fine.” you said. “great! i’ll let him know, are you free tomorrow?”

“tomorrow? uh yeah sure im free.” you said. “great i'll send the address where to meet us see you tomorrow!” you hung up the phone. “oh my god i can't believe that just happened.” you tossed the phone down on the bed. “this is crazy , you get to film with lee jeno.” haechan said. “i almost want to be in your shoes.”

the next day you got ready for the meeting; putting on your best outfit — so you wouldn't feel so nervous, and maybe to impress them a little. jaemin had sent you the address the night before and lucky for you it was in walking distance from your place. “im almost there's , so I'll call you back when it's over.” you said the restaurant in your view. “you better and be careful , just cause there hasn't been a serial killer porn star, doesn't mean there can't be one.” ryujin ordered. “okay im here.”

you quickly said your goodbyes, before hanging up. you reached for the door , walking into the restaurant. you looked down at your phone, ready to send the man a text when someone tapped your shoulders. “yn?”

“oh hi.” you smiled. “i was just about to text you.” you put your phone away. “you're right on time , jeno is over there.” he said “let's go.” your hands were sweating from nerves as you approached the table , the man himself coming into view. “don't be nervous, he's not as intimidating as he looks on camera.” he said. “jeno.”

the boy looked up from his phone; and he almost did a double take. you really didn't look like what you did for work; gorgeous? yes. but he just couldn't see you doing what he saw you do the night before. “oh shit.” he stood up. “hey.” he said , holding his hands out. you reached for his hand , shaking it. “h-hi.”

“both of you sit down , sit down and get comfortable.” jaemin said. “before i give you some space , let's go over the details.” he sat down. “okay.” you smiled.

jeno didn't need to listen; jaemin would just repeat it over for him — instead he just looked at you, studying you. he watched you fiddle with your nails while listening to his friend intently. his eyes traveling down to your lips, biting the bottom one. “jeno?” jaemin knocked him out of his thoughts. “what?” he watched you shuffle in your seat. “i said you understand all that?”

“yeah , yeah i do.” he said. jaemin knew he didn't , but he'd explain later. “we filming on wednesday, it will only take one day , but it's a all day shoot is that fine?” you nodded. “of course.” you said. “that works for me.”

“good , now i'll give you both some time to get to know each other.” he stood up. “i’ll get you both some food as well.” he walked away. “thank you.” you called out, it fully hit you that you were left alone with jeno again , he smirked watching you shy away once again. “i guess this is the real you.”

“h-huh?” you asked , he sat up; putting his elbows on the table, watching you. “the bows really do change how one would look at you.” your hand came to your head. “no , keep them in , don't take them out.” your hands immediately went to your lap. “cute.”

“me-me?” you gulped. “is anyone else sitting there love?” your cheeks were flushed , to jeno it was like your already pink cheeks were now red. “here you guys go.” jaemin came back with two plates. “i ordered enough steak for you to share , and some pasta.” he said. “i’ll leave you two , jeno play nice , she's perfect for this and we don't need you scaring her off.”

“go ahead.” he said. “eat.” you picked up the fork nervously, picking up a slice of the meat. “now put to your mouth and eat it.” it felt like he was gonna eat you alive , you put the steak to your mouth , biting it. “good girl , i can already tell im gonna like you.”

“so tell me , why'd you want to do this?” jeno asked. “do-do what?” you asked. “do I need to spell it out baby , porn what made you want to do this?” he said. “most camgirls stick to that.” you sat the fork down , taking a sip of water. “well it's kinda stupid.” you said , he waved you off. “tell me.” he said. “well my friends told me i’d be good at it.” you said. “and you just listened to them?” he raised his eyebrows. “you must agree with them.”

“i guess.” you said. “i didn't really understand what they meant by that.” he sat back listening. “i do.” he really did , truth is jeno spent the night before watching your past streams , and fuck did you put on a performance. he had to force himself to put his phone down before he started shooting blanks , his hands and his cock covered in his cum as your moans played over and over on his phone. “well why do you do it?”

“me?” he asked , shrugging. “because i like to fuck.” he laughed, watching your eyes widen. “don't look so surprised baby it's really not that surprising,” he said. “i like to fuck and i like making money , why not do both?” jeno never wanted to be a pornstar , his main dream was to be a model , turns out it wasn't that easy — but it was easy to pick up a camera and film himself fucking. “b-but you're a model , you don't need to do this.”

“you're right i don't , but here we are.” he eyed you up and down , eyes shamelessly stopping at your bust. “just like you.” he said. “y-yeah.”

“you've watched a few of my videos haven't you?” he asked. “i watched yours.” you wanted to lie , but how could you when he was being so truthful. “a few.” you gulped. “so you know im not gonna go easy on you right?” the way he talked so confidently it sent shivers down your spine. “but im sure you can take it right?” your body hot. “i mean im bigger than what you've taken but im sure you can learn to take it right?”

“i can take it.” you said, quickly covering your mouth. “yeah? let's see on thursday.” he bit his lip. “give me your phone.” he said. “here.” you handed it to him. “you listen well , i fucking love that.” he typed down his number. “i don't give my number out to every actress.” he said, handing you your phone back , jaemin returning back to the table. “we have to go soon.”

“that's too bad , we were just getting to know each other.” reaching for your card. “relax , im paying.” jeno said. “i-i have money.” you said. “i'm sure you do , but i didn't ask.” he said. “yn do you need a uber?” jaemin asked, but you were too busy making googly eyes at jeno. “oh no , i-i live a few minutes away.” jaemin nodded. “well it was nice to meet you , why don't you head out first and we'll stay behind and settle this.” you smiled. “thank you.”

“just show up on wednesday as you are ready to film.” you nodded. “of course!” you smiled, about to walk away when jeno grabbed your hand. “your phone love.” you took it from his hands. “thank you.” and just like that , the boys watched you leave out. “you done making googly eyes?” jaemin said. “can i take you home so i can get to my date?” jeno rolled his eyes. “hey don't get upset with me, nothing stopped you from following behind her and getting a pre show of wednesday.”

wednesday came quick; you have a busy few days before — you wanted everything perfect , getting your hair done; waxing your eyebrows and other areas. you hadn't used the number jeno gave you , scared to use it , even though your friends encouraged you too. “you're about to have his cock inside you , this phone call would be nothing.”

still you didn't budge; it probably didn't even bother the boy, he could've easily called someone else.

the production had arranged for a car to pick you up from your place to take you to a location; you read the script on the way there , it was a simple script since it was your first project on this scale — something about neighbors. it really didn't matter to you, you were excited but nervous. “we're here miss.” it was an actual house; a nice one.

you got up to the car , thanking the driver. “okay.” you said to yourself. “let's do this.” you said, the door was open so you just walked in , people running around, cameras and lights everywhere. “you must be yn?” a woman came up to you. “hi?” you said. “you are?” she smiled. “im kim , I run the production company that films the videos jeno is in.” she said. “you do?”

“yes i do; is it a little weird because im a woman?” you shook your head. “no of course not!” you said she laughed. “we're all about comfortability, to make sure you and the actor are both comfortable.” she said. “jeno is already on set , he's normally never here early.” she said. “actually he's normally late.” she said. “but enough about him , let's get you to your dressing room.”

she guided you to your room, opening the door. “this is your first shoot so i wanted to make sure everything was perfect.” she held your back guiding you in. “we have a stylist that will help you , along with make up who will make you even more beautiful.” she was extremely nice. “thank you so much.” you said. “don't worry about it , just get relaxed and ready to film some scenes.” she said. “the stylist will be in here soon , make-up as well.”

she left you alone after that , you looked around the room , she laid out a display of snacks that made you smile — your phone ringing , you took it out of your pocket , furrowing your eyebrows at the unrecognizable number. “so your phone does work.” you recognized the room , whipping around. “je-jeno.”

he walked into the room. “it's been a busy week.” you said. “yeah?” you nodded. “you aren't wearing the bows today,” he said. “gonna tell the stylist to change that.” you nervously took a step back. “i like the bows , let's put them in the movie.” you nodded. “ok-okay.” he was close enough to smell his cologne. “relax , im not gonna bite.” he said. “at least not now.” you squeaked as he pressed against you. “later im not promising anything.”

“i could definitely take you right here right now.” he confessed. “give you a quick training on taking me before later.” he said, his body looming over you. “but i kinda want to wait until later.” he smirked , your knees almost buckling under you. “let's wait until later, yeah?” he said. “ye-yeah.” you sighed in relief when he stepped back , finally letting you breathe. “i’ll see you in a bit love.”

you didn't have time to process what just happened before the stylist and the makeup artist both shuffled in. “out jeno out we have to get her ready.” he was quickly pushed out. “gosh.” the stylist said. “he's never here this early all of sudden he's early.” the makeup artist turned to you. “well there's the reason right there, you are gorgeous.” you smiled. “th-thank you.”

“let's get you ready.”

the outfit wasn't much different from what you normally wear , just a lingerie version meaning it was much shorter; so short you could see your ass , poking from your panties — but it was still cute. “you look pretty.” the stylist said, picking up the bows. “per jenos request, hope you don't mind.” she placed the bow in your hair. “done.”

they left , kim returning soon after. “you ready.” you nodded. “let's go.” she guided you to the front where the scene would take place , the cameras ready. “yn , hey.” jaemin said. “oh hi.” you waved back. “you look nice , you ready?” you nodded. “i'm a little nervous , this is much different than my room.”

“don't worry about it; it's your first big production.” he said. “just do your best.” he reassured you. “jeno is done with make-up so we should be starting — five minutes!” someone shouted , you giggled. “in five minutes.” he said. “good luck.”

“the scene starts with you in the kitchen.” the producer guided you to the kitchen , leaving you alone. you leaned over the counter , scrolling through your phone while you waited. “you look too good right now.” jeno caged you in between his arms. “th-thank you , you smell nice.” it just slipped out your mouth. “oh , i-i di-didn’t — you smell nice too.” he said , your cheeks were already red enough. “makes me want to eat you up right here.” he didn't know how much he really was effecting you , anymore of what he would be doing and you'd be begging him to fuck you right there. “okay actors , get in position!”

“good luck princess.” he walked away, leaving you to pull yourself together and get ready for the scene. “are they actors ready?” everyone got into position. “okay, rolling in 5…4…3…2…1 , start !”

the scene went exceptionally well; it was build up scene that leads up to the actual sex scene — but even those scenes were hot and heavy; at least jeno made it like that. it took a few hours to film , making sure to get every angle. “okay great, the next scene jeno you what to do.”

jeno didn't know if he had it in him; the resistance as the camera guy yelled for the scene to start again — the strength to hold himself together once he got his lips on you; he was a professional, but with you it felt like his very first scene.

“you can do what you want.” you spoke up , back into character , you were a natural — almost like you were talking to him outside of character. “what did you say?” he said , damn near forgetting his line. you looked down at your fingers. “to me , you can do what you want to me.”

there was the girl from the streams; it flicked just like that; your other persona , the one from the restaurant that told him you could take it — and he was about to put it to the test. “i can?” his big hand wrapping around your neck. “you don't know me that well but you'd let me do what i want to you?”

that was basically your current situation with the man; yeah you had only met him four days ago, but you'd let him do whatever he wanted , on and off camera. “y-yes.”

“that's real whore like of you.” his hand squeezed your throat. “real whore like.” he said, slamming his lips against yours. unfortunately the scene took place on a couch so he didn't have much room to work with , but it didn't mean anything to him — besides he'll just fuck you into your mattress on another day.

the kiss was rough; his hand squeezing your throat as he pushed his tongue into your mouth. “fuck.” he cursed, pulling away. “get on your knees.” he pushed you down , the camera close to your face as he unbuckled his pants. “gonna fuck your face.” he pulled his cock out , it was definitely bigger than the dildos you were use to. “hey.” he slapped your face. “come on, be a good whore and suck my cock.”

he grabbed the base of his cock , slapping it on your cheek. “open slut.” he shoved his length inside your mouth , and much like your previous streams , you took him into your throat without gagging. “yeah , fuck swallowing my fucking cock like that.” he groaned , holding the back of your head moving you up and down on his thick length , also moving his hips. “cock sucking slut , how many cocks has this throat taken?”

he was using your mouth; the cameras all there filming it turned you on even more , the many people watching in the room as he fucked your face made you hornier. “yeah fuck!” he had to force himself out of you so he wouldn't cum fast. “get up.” he pulled you up , throwing you to the couch. “ass up, now slut.”

he pulled the dress up , revealing the matching color set they put you in. “dumb slut is wet from sucking cock.” he slapped your ass , you moaned , he pulled your panties down , your folds covered in your slick. “messy pussy , gonna stuff you full of my cock.” he maneuvered your body on the small couch. “arch your back.”

he pushed your head down on the couch seat. “gonna make you take it all at once.” your whimpering turned into screams as he abruptly shoved his entire length into your pussy. “hell you're fucking tight.” he groaned , pulling out slamming back inside. “fuck!” he began to fuck into you , holding the back of your neck. “such a whore.”

his thrust were brutal and unrelentless; the camera catching everything — his cock stretching you out more than you've ever been, the squelching sounds from your cunt it was embarrassing, having people hear that ; but the embarrassment soon was forgotten as he went deeper. “my fuck -oh my- oh my fucking god.”

he let out a lust filled chuckle. “so stupid baby.” he slapped your ass. “my cock really made your brain turn to mush.” he abruptly pulled out of you , slapping your ass , your legs shook. “turn around.” he flipped you on your back.

you looked up at him with teary wide eyes. but he could see the lust in them. “that innocent look doesn't work on me.” he slapped your cunt. “i can see through whores like you.” he lined his cock up with your hole. “innocent looking but ready to take any cock they can get.”

this new angle had you reaching for anything , jenos arm; the couch cushion — his cock had you grabbing at the air. he pulled down the front of the lingerie , your tits now bouncing along with his thrust. the rumors proving to be true as you felt your orgasm approaching. “you're clenching around me , fuck your pussy is suffocating my cock.” he growled. “fuck im gonna cum!” you screamed out. “cum slut , wet my cock with your cum.”

he had your legs open wide , holding your shaking thighs. “cum.” your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you came, soaking his stomach and the seat below you. a high pitched moan coming from your mouth as he kept going. “fuck keep cumming on my cock.” he slapped your poor clit rubbing rubbing it. “yeah im gonna - fuck - im gonna cum.” he groaned. “fuck im gonna cum all over your face.”

he pulled out of your twitching hole , standing over your face , stroking his cock. the camera was up close again as he came — and he came a lot. he groaned, throwing his head back as he covered you in his seed. “fuck.”

you laid out on the couch , his thumb still rubbing at your clit as your reached your final orgasm , your thighs shaking uncontrollably. “cut!”

jeno almost forgot about the camera; ready to bring you to another orgasm. “je-jeno.” your shaking voice pulled him from his horny state. “shit im sorry.” he pulled away , desperately wanting to taste you. “almost made you squirt again.” he smirked. “now how would we explain that? because the camera is off.”

“get her a cover.” he shouted , someone running over to you both , he covered your body. “jeno.” they handed him a robe. “you did so good.” the staff handing you fluids. “felt like watching a couple have sex , you're a natural girl.” you nodded with a smile. “are you a natural princess?” jeno spoke up once they were gone. “or is it because those screams were real?”

you lowered your head , shying away from his gaze. “don't hide from me now , i know your real persona , and these cameras maybe done rolling, but i'm not done with you yet.” he whispered , just as you were pulled from your seat by a staff member and whisked back to your room. “you ready to go?” jaemin came over. “no need to drive me home tonight,” he said. “why not?” asked Jaemin.

“because im not going home tonight.”

©️LUVYENI

#kpop x reader #kpop smut #nct fanfic #nct x female reader #nct x reader #nct dream smut #nct dream hard thoughts #nct dream hard hours #nct dream x female reader #nct dream x reader #lee jeno fanfic #lee jeno x reader #lee jeno smut #jeno x reader #jeno smut #jeno fic #jeno hard thoughts #jeno hard hours

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holyblonded · 2 months ago

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now a culer | something blue

pairings: alexia putellas x teen!reader, olga rios x teen!reader

summary: school is still… rough, so alexia finds a solution

warnings: school fight

notes: i am genuinely loving writing for azulita

Don’t get it wrong. you didn’t hate Barcelona. It was a beautiful city, full of life, history, and football. The architecture was stunning, the beaches were nice, and the food, objectively, was good. But nothing— nothing could ever compare to LA.

LA had everything for you. Your friends, your school, your culture. You knew every street, every corner store, every mural that decorated the sides of buildings. The people in your neighborhood weren’t just strangers, you knew them, and they knew you. You had history with them. Mr. García, who owned the corner store, always had something for you when you stopped by, chips, a drink, a free snack, as long as you swept up the front of his store. Mrs. Alvarez, the seamstress down the block, had been patching up your old clothes for years because you couldn’t afford new ones. The local grocery store let you stock the juice shelves in exchange for a small bag of groceries. The paletero man that always made sure your favorite paleta was in stock People took care of each other in your LA. It was unspoken, but it was understood.

Barcelona had its own community, its own culture, its own way of life. But it wasn’t yours. It didn’t have your people. It didn’t have the same music blasting from car windows, the smell of carne asada grilling on the sidewalk, or the summer block parties that lasted until sunrise where you danced bachata til your feet hurt. It didn’t have the sound of Spanish and English blending together in a way that felt like home. It wasn’t the streets you grew up on. It wasn’t the familiar faces who had watched you grow. It wasn’t the city that had shaped you. It wasn’t home.

And the culture shock? It hit hard.

The Spanish spoken in Barcelona wasn’t even the same as what you grew up with. You could understand it, sure, but sometimes, the slang threw you off completely. The food was different, too—no more corner taco stands or elote vendors pushing carts down the street. No more bodegas where you could grab a pack of Hot Cheetos and a can of Arizona for a dollar fifty. And the people? They didn’t move like LA people did. Back home, you walked with a purpose, always aware of your surroundings. Here, people strolled leisurely down the sidewalk like they had nowhere to be, like they had never had to be in a rush a day in their lives.

But the biggest difference? The way you carried yourself. In LA, you had to be on guard. Always. You had to be sharp, ready, because life had never given you the luxury of relaxing. You were always prepared for something to go wrong, because it always did. Here, though, everything was so… safe. People left their doors unlocked. Kids walked home alone at night. You saw people with their phones out, not even looking over their shoulders. It made you uneasy. You didn’t know how to exist in a place where you weren’t constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Olga just could not get it. She didn’t get why you always seemed tense, why you jumped at sudden noises, why you always had to sit facing the door whenever you went out to eat. She didn’t get why you never let yourself fully relax, why you kept waiting for something to go wrong. She didn’t understand because she had never had to live like that.

And then there was the biggest adjustment of all: actually living with Olga.

For years, she had been a figure in your life. A presence. Someone who popped in and out, who you called and texted, who sent you money when you needed it. But you had never lived together. You had never had to share space. And now, suddenly, she was supposed to be responsible for you.

And it was a disaster.

You weren’t used to having anyone tell you what to do. You had been living on your own for months, doing whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted. So, naturally, you didn’t see a problem with leaving your stuff wherever you felt like it.

Your shoes? Kicked off in the middle of the living room. Your jacket? Draped over the back of a chair. Your gym bag? Somewhere. (You’d find it eventually.) Olga, however, was losing her mind.

“Do you not see the mess you’re making?” she snapped one afternoon, hands on her hips as she glared at the chaos you had left in the living room.

You barely spared her a glance from where you were sprawled on the couch. “I’ll clean it up later.”

“Later when? Next week?”

You shrugged.

And the music. You had always blasted your music at ungodly hours, back when there was no one around to complain. So, why would you stop now? Except now, you had Olga banging on your door at two in the morning, looking absolutely murderous.

“Are you serious right now?” she hissed, shoving open the door. “Turn that down!”

“It’s not that loud.”

“IT IS!”

And then, of course, there was the hoodie situation.

Olga owned nice hoodies. You had noticed this immediately. You had also decided, just as quickly, that they were now yours. You never asked— you just took them. Which made Olga’s blood boil.

“Where is my hoodie?” she demanded one day, hands on her hips.

You pulled the sleeves of said hoodie over your hands, looking at her blankly. “What hoodie?”

“That hoodie! The one you’re wearing!”

“Oh. This? Thought it was mine.”

“It’s not!”

Alexia just watched it all unfold with an amused smile. She had no intention of stepping in. In fact, it would only make it worse. The best thing for her to do was to let the two of you argue then drop you off at school.

You flex and extend your fingers as you stare down at your raw knuckles, the skin cracked, bruised, and stinging with every slight movement. Your hands tremble slightly, and not just from the pain. You sit on a bench outside the principal’s office, your legs bouncing restlessly, teeth clenched, chest tight. You’re trying to breathe, trying to calm down, but the fire inside you is still burning too hot. Why do you keep losing it like this?

You wrack your brain for answers, frustrated and ashamed. You didn’t come here to be the angry kid. You didn’t come to Spain to fight. But everything felt wrong. Your body was tense from the moment you stepped off the plane a few weeks ago. Everything’s been off.

You hate how different the Spanish sounds. Everyone speaks fast, sharp, clipped, nothing like the Spanish you grew up with back home. Your classmates either don’t understand you or mock your accent. Teachers correct you like you’re stupid. You’re constantly trying to translate everything in your head, to blend in, but all it does is make you feel more alone. You squeeze your hands into fists again. The pain grounds you, just for a second.

The door creaks open, and your head jerks up. Olga steps out of the office, her jaw clenched, eyes blazing. Alexia follows behind, calm as ever, but her gaze flicks to you quickly, assessing. She says nothing.

Olga doesn’t waste time. “In the car,” she snaps, voice low and furious. “Now.”

You don’t argue. You stand silently, walking past them both with your head down. It’s déjà vu, the second time in a month. You can feel her eyes on the back of your head, and you’re already bracing for it.

And sure enough, as soon as the car doors close, Olga turns on you.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she explodes. “Do you even care about staying here? Do you want to get kicked out of every school in the city?”

You stare out the window, jaw tight, refusing to say anything.

“I’m trying, okay?” she continues. “I’m trying to make this work. I’m trying to give you a good life here. But you’re making it impossible!”

“He was talking about you,” you mutter suddenly.

“What?”

You finally turn, meeting her eyes. “The guy I hit. He was saying disgusting stuff about you. I told him to stop. He didn’t. So I made him.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Nobody disrespects my sister,” you say simply.

Olga exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose as her anger starts to crumble.

“I… okay,” she says softly. “Okay. But Azul, this can’t keep happening.”

You don’t respond. The car ride home is quiet, tense.

Once you pull into the driveway, Olga tries again. “Can we talk more about—”

“I’m miserable here,” you cut in, still staring ahead. “I can’t keep up with the Spanish, people make fun of how I talk, I have no friends, and there’s no girls’ football team for me to play with. I feel stupid all the time. I feel… wrong.”

It hangs heavy between you. You blink back the sting in your eyes, suddenly too tired to fight.

Alexia, who’s been watching from the driver seat, finally speaks up. “I’m taking her to the pitch.”

Olga hesitates but nods. “Go. Just— be careful.”

The second Alexia nods toward the passenger seat, you perk up.

The Barcelona training grounds are quiet, bathed in the soft amber glow of the setting sun. You’re in your element the second you step onto the pitch, your body relaxing as you lace up your cleats. You and Alexia stretch in silence before falling into a one-on-one. The rhythm is familiar, the tension in your chest starts to melt away.

She’s good, obviously, but you manage to dust her with a ridiculous feint and spin move that has her stumbling, arms flailing as you laugh and tuck the ball into the net.

“Not bad,” she says, grinning as she shakes her head.

“You’re getting old,” you tease, jogging backward toward the penalty spot.

“Oh, please.”

Now she’s in goal, sleeves rolled up, expression focused as you line up your shots. One by one, you fire them in. She saves a few, but not all. The pop of the ball hitting the back of the net fills the air.

As you take a breather between kicks, you speak again. “I feel out of place at school. Like I don’t belong. It’s not just the language… it’s everything. I don’t talk like them. I don’t think like them. And there’s no football team. No girls to play with. I feel like I’m wasting my time.”

Alexia watches you carefully from the goal, nodding. “That’s not fair. School’s supposed to be a place that supports you.”

“It’s not,” you mutter. “I don’t even want to go anymore.”

Alexia stands up, brushing her hands on her thighs. “Don’t worry about that part.”

You blink. “What?”

“Just keep playing. We’ll figure the rest out.”

You take your last penalty kick, driving it hard into the top corner. The sound is clean, crisp, perfect. You grin.

Unbeknownst to you, two figures sit higher in the bleachers: Joan Laporta and Pere Romeu. They’ve been watching in silence, tracking your every move.

“She’s raw,” Pere murmurs. “Rough around the edges. But you can’t teach instinct like that.”

“She plays like she’s been fighting her whole life,” Laporta adds. “Because she has.”

“Alexia says she’s a winger, no?” Pere asks.

“Could be more than that, if someone gives her the right support.”

They keep watching as you and Alexia walk off the pitch together, sweaty and smiling, shoulders bumping. You don’t know it yet, but everything is about to change.

Back in the locker room, you clean up side by side, tying your hair back and trading casual banter. Your body aches, but your mind is calm for the first time in days.

The sound of your alarm blaring through your room was what, unfortunately, ripped you from sleep. You groaned, rolling over and slapping your hand against the snooze button with more force than necessary. Your eyes were crusty, your body stiff, and for a moment, you considered staying in bed and faking a stomachache. But you knew Olga would never fall for it.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you shuffled to the bathroom, splashed cold water on your face, and slowly made your way down the hallway toward the kitchen. Your hoodie was hanging half off your shoulder, socks mismatched, and your curls were a disaster. Typical school morning. You already dreaded the day.

What greeted you in the kitchen, though, made you pause. Alexia was standing by the counter, humming softly to herself as she tossed fruit into a blender. She was dressed, calm, and already looked like she had been awake for hours. There were slices of toast on a plate, eggs still steaming, and fresh juice already poured. You blinked slowly at the surreal domesticity of it all.

“Morning, ’Lexia,” you mumbled, rubbing at your eyes as you crossed the kitchen. “Have you seen my backpack? I swear I left it by the couch.”

Alexia didn’t even turn around at first. You heard the whir of the blender as she held the top down, blending with ease. When it finally stopped, she looked over her shoulder at you and that’s when you saw it. The smirk.

“You don’t need it today, nena,” she said coolly, pouring the smoothie into a cup. “You’re coming with me.”

You squinted at her. “Huh?”

She just handed you the smoothie. “Drink this. Get dressed.”

You stared at her like she had grown two heads. “Wait, what do you mean I don’t need it? I have school.”

“No, you don’t,” she said simply. “Not today.”

“Okay… am I in trouble again?”

She snorted and shook her head. “Just get dressed.”

The cryptic vibes were off the charts, but you went upstairs anyway, tugging on some joggers and a fresh hoodie, brushing your teeth quickly before grabbing your sneakers. When you came back down, Alexia was already at the door, keys in hand, sunglasses on like some undercover spy. The whole thing was sketchy—and a little exciting.

In the car, you peppered her with questions.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

“Why can’t you just tell me?”

“Because it’s a surprise.”

“Is it good or bad?”

“That depends.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically. “You sound like Olga.”

“She learned it from me.”

You pouted, leaning your head against the window as you watched the city blur past. The sun was barely up, streets still quiet. Your nerves were growing by the minute.

When the car finally pulled up to the FC Barcelona training facility, your brows furrowed.

“What are we doing here?” you asked, genuinely confused now. “Am I in trouble for playing here the other day?”

Alexia just gave you a tight-lipped smile and stepped out of the car. “Come on.”

You followed her slowly, legs stiff, anxiety kicking up. It was one thing to kick the ball around with Alexia when the place was empty— it was another thing entirely to walk through the main building in broad daylight. Your eyes darted around as you passed by trainers, staff members, and a couple of players you recognized. No one stopped you, though. Everyone just nodded at Alexia and let her through.

Finally, she led you to a quiet room off one of the main hallways. It looked like an office, kind of. You hesitated at the door, but Alexia gently nudged you forward.

Inside sat a man you recognized from TV—Pere Romeu. He stood when you entered, smiling warmly, gesturing to the seat in front of his desk.

“Buenos días,” he said kindly. “Alexia told me you go by Azulita”

You nodded slowly, heart pounding.

He motioned for you to sit. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

You looked from him to Alexia, then back again. “Um… okay?”

He chuckled. “Relax. You’re not in trouble. Quite the opposite, actually.”

You sat stiffly in the chair, hands fidgeting in your lap. Alexia took the seat beside you, legs crossed casually.

“So,” Pere said, folding his hands. “The other day, Joan Laporta and I were here late, handling some administrative business. On our way out, we noticed someone playing on the pitch. You. With Alexia.”

Your mouth went dry.

“We watched for a while,” he continued. “And what we saw was raw talent. Instinct, drive, creativity, all of it. You play like it’s the one place you feel safe. And when we see a player like that… we pay attention.”

You blinked. “Wait… you were watching?”

He nodded. “Yes. And we’d like to offer you a place here. Not just training— on the senior team.”

Your jaw dropped. “What?”

“We’ll handle all of your schooling through La Masia’s internal academic program. You won’t need to return to your current school unless you want to. You’ll train, you’ll play, and you’ll study here with people who understand what it means to be an athlete. You’ll be surrounded by others like you. And more importantly, you’ll belong.”

You couldn’t speak. Your brain had stopped processing words somewhere around senior team.

“I know it’s a lot,” Pere added. “But we believe in you. And we want to help you grow not just as a player, but as a person. So… what’s your decision?”

He leaned back in his chair, patient, while your heart thundered in your chest. Alexia turned to you with a soft smile.

And all you could do was sit there, wide-eyed, the weight of everything hanging in the air.

#woso x platonic!reader #woso fic #woso x teen!reader #woso x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #woso #alexia putellas x teen!reader #alexia putellas x reader #olga rios x teen!reader #olga rios x reader #barca femeni x teen!reader #barcelona femeni x teen!reader #barca femeni x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni #·˚ ༘ something blue

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invincidick · 2 months ago

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+18

Varient invinsible x F!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Dubious consent, Varient invinsible

Varient invincible follows you onto your train ride home.

an alternate universe where your earth's invincible is one the variants

this is my first ever fic... beware.

If you like this lmk i could totally continue it and if its ass PLS LMK

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

Sure, things had been a lot different since the Viltrimites took over earth, but after a few years things sort of went back to normal.

Slowly people rebuilt, got the courage to go back to work, tried to go outside and push back the fear of somehow running into a Viltrimite having a bad day.

You had just gotten off work and headed down to the subway, Your legs ached from standing all day, all you wanted to do was lie at home and relax, you boarded the packed train. As you squeezed in between other passengers, you found a spot against the wall to the left of the train cart. With your headphones in you pulled out your phone to distract yourself from the long, uncomfortable journey back home.

You had just began to get some semblance of relaxation when you heard a string of hushed gasps throughout the train, you glanced up, but didn't see anything out of the ordinary, so you went back to scrolling on your phone.

In the corner of your eye you saw someone pushing past people to your side of the train car. You didn't mind it and just kept scrolling. They continued heading your way until they stopped, directly in front of you.

You glanced in front of you, your heart skipped a beat. A broad muscular chest covered in a black and yellow suit. No you thought to yourself, you squeezed your eyes tight, this isn't happening, this can't be happening. After what felt like a century you finally got the courage to open your eyes again. It wasn't a dream.

For whatever reason you decided to look up, you caught his gaze, a giant smirk plastered on his face.

You never thought you would see him up close again, but it was different this time, this was not the same man who had saved you. After everything he had done there was no way he was the same. He was a killer. That realization made your heart race even faster.

"Miss me babe?" he said snapping you away from your thoughts, you glanced around for help and realized everyone was avoiding looking at the two of you. He placed a firm hand on your jaw and forced you to look at him "Hey, i asked you a question." You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out, your eyes darting back to the other passengers.

"what? they're not gonna save you, you, and everyone else here are completely at my mercy, so i suggest you keep me entertained." The hand around your jaw traced fingers across your pulse, your breath hitched, he really was nothing like the man who saved you years ag.

You needed to say something, anything, "sorry." was all you managed to get out. He laughed "god, you humans are pathetic, but that's what i like about you, it's fun." he said in a cocky tone, his smile never wavering.

Placing his forearm above your head, he leaned in and spoke "you still haven't answered my question." He felt your pulse quicken beneath his fingers.

You felt his breath against your ear and shivered, instinctively your head went to pull away he felt you struggle and tightened his grip. Your arm shot up to grasp his wrist, trying to pull it off of you. "Wow trying to run away already? but the fun was just getting started." Your eyes squeezed shut, he was strong, way too strong, even using every last ounce of strength you had, he didn't even have to try.

His other arm started to move and you thought he had finally got bored of you, when you felt it trace down your side and land on your hip. Your eyes shot open at the touch and your face immediately flushed.

"Huh. Didn't think you'd be that sensitive." He teased. This was getting way too weird, you just weren't used to being manhandled that's it, especially not on a crowded train, and especially not by an attractive, crazy superhero.

There's no way you found him attractive right now.

"No, please" was all you managed to squeak out.

"Really?" he asked sarcastically, his grin getting even wider.

"Even when your body is practically begging for it?" His thumb massaging circles into your hip, dangerously close to the hem of your pants.

Just as a finger started to dip below your waist band the train stopped, and so did he.

The doors next to you opened and you let out a sigh of relief, its finally over. "Welp guess this is our stop." He exclaimed with an innocent smile, grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you out.

Once you were off the train he immediately lifted you into his arms ignoring your protests and began to fly you both out of the subway and into the sky. You let out a small cry before hiding your face away in his shoulder and clinging to his neck for dear life, your body pressing hard against his firm chest.

"I Didn't know you liked to move this fast" He said gripping your ass. You squeezed him harder in response, just praying he would enjoy toying with you enough not to drop you.

Once you had finally landed you were completely exhausted from stress, you looked around and realized he had brought you to a giant mansion, his giant mansion. He took over earth for this shit.

"here we are sweetheart" he said as he walked past you towards the door, with nowhere else to go you followed him in. It was pretty trashed all around, empty bottles, takeout lying around, as if somehow had been throwing a nonstop party for the past 2 years.

Before you even realized where exactly you were being led you were in his bedroom with the door shutting behind you

"Seriously, you humans amaze me, one second your begging me to stop and the next you're following me to my room." He said, his voice getting deeper, as he strode towards you like a predator ready to eat its next meal.

"You don't want me to stop."

Grabbing your throat he licked a stripe up the side of your neck and pulled away relishing your bewildered and flushed expression.

"Oh, this is gonna be so much fun"

#invincible smut #mark grayson #mark grayson x reader #invincible x reader #mohawk mark #viltrumite mark #sinister mark #omni mark #mark grayson smut #invincible fanfic #mark grayson invincible

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hai7ani · 1 year ago

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familiar / haitani rindou

Haitani Rindou turns 32, gets married, and he silently wonders why people are so nice to him now.

the old retired ladies promoting milk powders and selling fresh fruits in the grocery store rushes up to him at any chance they get. one time when browsing for milk formulas one of them had tapped him on the shoulder, pointed at a brand she was not promoting for but thought was amazing when her own grandchild had tried it, and then placed a bunch of other stuff in his cart that she thinks his wife would need. an example would be containers of freshly cut mixed fruits that her colleague had just prepared. you remember him telling you that her tone was a lot more different than the average grocery store promoter trying to sell you a product ー it was almost as if she was talking to her own son.

when shopping for flowers just like he does every Sunday suddenly the part-timer who is usually silent, does her job and only responds to customers' needs had stepped up to him and pointed out a few selections that she believes are lovely for expecting parents. she was even smiling when doing so. and you remember he came home to you that day with two bouquets of fresh flowers ー chrysanthemum and baby's breath ー one in each hand.

today when taking you out for dinner in the local family-owned restaurant the daughter had served you a warm bowl of beef bone soup. neither of you had ordered it for yourselves, and you were about to tell her that, but her mother speaks before you can. "drink it, love. the soup is good for you." she yells a little from where she sits at the cashier with a grin. when Rindou stands to pay after finishing up her husband then refuses to take your bill for the night. "it's okay, son. dinner's on the house this time." he pats his shoulder and pushes you both out the door. "take care, you two. the next time you come i'll cook tofu for you, alright?" it was directed to you and you'd laughed, a little embarrassed but feeling warm and fuzzy nonetheless.

and now you are listening to your own husband ramble on and on about his new mysteries while he massages your feet on the couch.

"i seriously don't get it. i've been going to these places for years now and they were never this nice to us. i mean, they are nice, but never this nice, you know? it's the first time we've ever gotten a free meal from Kobayashi's."

we. us.

you brush his hair back, admiring the light wrinkles that have started to form on his skin. "that's exactly it, don't you think?" you bring it up and he hums in confusion.

"perhaps the reason why they've been so nice lately is exactly because you've been going to these places for years now. they know you."

"huh?"

"if you think about it, they've watched you go from an ordinary man to a husband, then a father. watched you bring a girl they've never seen before to these places more often and suddenly we go together all the time, you have a ring on your finger and i am pregnant. perhaps it is why. a sense of familiarity, maybe?"

Rindou looks at you as if you are love and warmth and everything pink and red and blue and purple and-

you are right, actually. you'd went from a girl he met at a bar to becoming the love of his life, the woman who is now carrying the love you both share. and the ladies at the grocery store, the Kobayashi's, the part timer who's been around even after graduating university years ago? they've all watched him grow.

when Rindou was 17 and had gotten ambushed by a rival gang alone, it was madam Kobayashi who'd ushered him into their store way past the last call and offered to cook him a nice meal, had her medical student son patch him up, her husband to chase away the remaining guys who were waiting for Rindou to come back out. her daughter had been about Rindou's age then, hiding behind the cashier and watching as he ate in silence with a cut to his lip, another on his eyebrow. (to this day still no one except for you, her, and him, knows that the reason he'd gotten ambushed that day was because he'd stood up for miss Kobayashi when she was getting bullied by one of the delinquents. she still thanks him for what he'd done whenever you both finish up your meal and get ready to leave.) Rindou was 17 when he'd first discovered what it was like to care for people; to be a human before anything else.

the two ladies from the grocery store wasn't yet retired and working this job back then. the promoter lady used to be the janitor who was working in the office building of his first job. she'd watched him gone through periods of unknowing, confusion, stress, to become a solid man of status today. the lady who is selling fruits used to work as a professional tutor and had been the one to tutor Rindou and his brother on Mathematics. although she is mute and can't respond in words when her students have confusing questions to ask, the brothers still thought of her as a good teacher because of the way she taught, which is why they'd stuck around and refused to switch teachers despite their parents' disapproval. because she is mute, she can only count on her colleague to dump containers of freshly cut fruits into his cart while motioning for her to tell him things that she actually wants to say to him whenever he visits the store.

the part timer at the florist is a lot younger than he is, but she have been working there for a very long time. watched him when he was still an inexperienced bachelor pacing around the store wondering which flower would be good on a first date to buying the same flowers every Sunday because you'd liked the lilies that she recommended.

it'd be heartwarming for anyone to see the boy you watch grow around love, into love, finding love, to marrying her and becoming a father.

"...yeah. maybe."

#writing #rindou x reader #rindou haitani x reader #haitani rindou x reader #rindou haitani #haitani rindou #tokyo revengers #tokrev #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x reader #tokrev x reader #tr x reader #tokyo revengers fluff

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anifever · 1 year ago

Text

Dating Darry Curtis HC’s ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Darrel “Darry” Curtis x Fem!Reader

୨୧ : What I think dating ‘Superman’ would include

A/N : I’ve been busy but school’s out now so hopefully I can work on requests 💔. Also ily Jake Gyllenhaal but they should’ve never remade Roadhouse..

˖⁺‧₊˚ 🕊️ ˚₊‧⁺˖

୨ I hate to say it (not really), but you’re like a married couple

୨ The gang calls you mom and dad as a joke

୨ You guys are so sitting on a porch with wind chimes and birds chirping in the bg and the warmth of the sun hitting your skin coded

୨ You’re so disgustingly in love and it makes everyone sick

୨ I feel like bcs of how he’s portrayed and the responsibilities/stress he takes on from the entire gang, it makes him seem way older than he is

୨ That’s also probably due to Patrick Swayze being 31 instead of 20 while filming and also being 15 years older than C Thomas Howell irl instead of the 6 year age gap their characters actually had…

୨ Anyways, you help him actually act more his age

୨ You convince him to go out more, etc

୨ Everyone’s happy to see him let loose once in a while

୨ Like you guys mess around when you bake/cook together by throwing flour at each other and giggling omg I’m vomiting

୨ You guys are sometimes (very rarely) even spotted at Buck’s together and Dallas has to do a double take

୨ You also bribe the boys to give you guys or just him in general some alone time LMAO

୨ You absolutely slow dance in the kitchen. Idc.

୨ He’s the type to call you “a real treat” when you dress up or do something nice for him

୨ Going shopping together and him walking around with his lil’ glasses reading the grocery list while you push the cart

୨ Sitting in his lap while he reads the newspaper ohahahwbrbrbnrne

୨ You guys definitely met early on; slow burn

୨ You were SO ‘So High School’ by Taylor Swift when you were a little bit younger

୨ Been in the works of writing a ff abt that..

୨ FINALLY officially asked you out senior year for prom and you’ve been together since, even though you guys were in love way before that

୨ You definitely have to get in between his and Pony’s fights a lot

୨ Soda comes to you for advice, no matter what it is- he thinks it’s refreshing to have someone new to talk to rather than constant arguing, yada yada

୨ Dallas either flirts with you to piss Darry off or he has a relationship with you like he did with Mrs. Curtis. No in between.

୨ The type of man to give you foot massages

୨ On the contrary, you also massage his shoulders

୨ Johnny probably had a tiny crush on you when you first met him years back, but it went away when you guys started dating

୨ Went away to an extent at least..

୨ Him standing between your legs while you’re sat on the sink shaving his face for him GODODODODID

୨ He says “honey, I’m home” unironically

୨ He’s able to pick you up pretty easily no matter your weight

୨ He does it a lot and it’s mainly to show off LMAO

୨ You guys play checkers together and genuinely enjoy it which doesn’t help your mom/dad allegations

୨ EXTREMELY good at calming you down whether it’s a panic attack, etc

୨ He might lose his temper a lot on his brothers, but he never does it with you

୨ If he ever does accidentally snap at you, he apologizes to no end

୨ He’s touching you whenever he can; a hand on your waist, around your shoulder, keeping you on his lap, a finger in your belt loop, etc

୨ Speaking of belt loops, you pulling him in by the loops or his belt buckle to kiss him⁉️⁉️⁉️ I’m losing it

୨ Whenever any sort of errand needs to be run, he either forces Pony/Soda to do it, or makes you come with him alone

୨ He buys you flowers whenever he has the extra money ☹️

୨ Has his moms wedding ring kept someplace safe to give to you one day

୨ On another note, she loved you so much before she passed

୨ She was also constantly teasing him about you two when you guys were younger

୨ If he’s exhausted from work and flops onto the couch with you, don’t expect to be getting up anytime soon

୨ Back to the ‘him going out more’ point- you guys go to rodeos together whenever he knows Pony is being watched by someone else

୨ Calming lil’ picnics together by a lake

୨ He unfortunately will have to cancel plans a good amount because of work-related stuff, but you completely understand

୨ He’s pretty stubborn about letting you help with money, but he gives in sometimes

୨ You leave him cute notes in the lunch that he takes to work <\\3

୨ He for sure keeps a hand on your thigh or knee while driving

୨ There’s no doubt in my mind you’d grow old together

୨ He’s thankful for you in so many ways and is glad you’re able to help his life feel normal again and like an actual 20 year-old

#darry curtis x reader #darrel curtis #darry curtis #darrel curtis x reader #darry curtis x you #darrel curtis x you #the outsiders #the outsiders fanfiction #the outsiders imagine #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders x you #the outsiders darry #darry curtis imagine #darrel curtis imagine #outsiders x reader #outsiders #curtis gang #patrick swayze #curtis gang x reader

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tojisteddy · 5 days ago

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getting simon a little plush snoopy that reminds him of you so he has something of yours to take on deployments with him

I Miss You | cw: fluff, fluff and even more fluff.

“You don’t like it?”

“No birdie, ‘s a cute lit’le thing just—” Simon pauses, rubbing his face while he chuckles, eyeing the object that sat in the nailed box.

“What’s the snoopy for?”

You’d read on some blog, while aimlessly adding things to your cart, about this girl posting pictures everywhere she went with this little snoopy. You loved snoopy. Adored the little dog, had plushies around the house, blankets in the closet, mugs that Simon made your tea in, stickers— the whole nine. Simon wouldn’t be surprised if he came home after a mission and you had Snoopy tattooed on your forehead (he wouldn’t love you any less).

You thought, it’d be good to have a little something for each other while he was deployed. Your snoopy, that you sent over to Simon, had your name on its dog black tag, a pair of overalls and a cute little orange bow horribly sewed into it. It was fucking adorable, a mini you in Simons eyes.

“It’s so- want you to think of me Simon. Thought it’d be cute.”

Simon could hear that heart melting pout on your lips. His heart swooned, almost flew out his chest and right back home to you. “I have one too! Made a little mask for it with your name ‘nd everythin. I’m gonna take pictures with it while I’m around, can you maybe- if you want to-“

“ ‘F course I want to baby.” It slipped off his tongue before he could realize what he said. Not that he actually wanted to take pictures, he was horrid at taking pictures. That was something he left in your hands. But if that’s what you wanted, Simon would never say no to you. He’d do the best he could.

“Good. I already made up my mind about it Si, so you have to do it properly. Okay? I wanna see what you see!”

Little minx, you knew exactly how to get what you wanted out of the large man. He wouldn’t have it any other way. He laugh leaves his pink lips, deciding to end the call so you could get your sleep, he glanced at his watch. 0300 hours, he’d need to be up in two, you were five hours behind.

“Hug little S.S for me yeah, hold ‘em while you sleep” he yawned.

“S.S?”

“Snoopy Simon, how are ya gonna tell us apart luvie?” You rolled you eyes, ends of your lips curving up.

“Love you Si.”

“Love you more doll.”

Simon couldnt lie, it was comforting having a little thing to remind him that you were at home. Patiently waiting for him. He couldn’t exactly send you pictures from his phone, but he found a disposable camera. The first picture with your mini Snoopy blurry as ever, he got the hang of it though, making sure to sure you the scenery of his locations. Gaz and Soap, the little devils, stole the precious plush and Simon went on barking at them about not roughing it up. They ended up in the photos too, along with Price while he was asleep.

You thought Simon forgot all about the idea, till you got a stack of printed photos in the mail. And there your mini Snoopy was— at the beach, in the grass, on Simons bed next to some pictures of you, at some bar— there were even some with Simon (mask on of course) his thumb up and having Snoopy put their little paw up. You squealed, rolling around in your shared bed and then your eyes found the ghost faced Snoopy that laid on your bed from the previous night. You smirked.

“We have to step our game up S.S.”

You sent your pictures with a disposable camera too, following the rising trend, some at the fair, the park, your pet bunny hopping into it and getting hair all over it, you at the beach, some with your friends and your mom. It was too cute for Simons heart, there was one he put in his wallet that he was too proud of.

You in nothing but his shirt that went to your thighs, little S.S laying in your hair— he grew to love you a little more, his heart beating a little fast just at the thought of you, your handwriting on the back of the photos.

Simon came back 3 months later, more excited than usual, your mini snoopy chained to his waist with pride. You were a giggling mess, running and jumping into his muscular arms. He squeezed you tight, kissing your cheeks then your lips.

“Welcome back S.S.”

He playfully squishes your nose, “Good to be home little snoop.”

a/n: Bun and I literally love snoopy and then I started listening to I Love You by Faith Evan’s— perfection. I had fun writing this🥺.

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maxpounds · 8 months ago

Text

OnlyFat

Nigel looked at himself in the mirror, as he did every morning, admiring his toned and sculpted body, the result of years of dieting and hard work at the gym. At 28 years old, he felt at the peak of his physical form. Firm muscles, broad shoulders, and a defined abdomen, along with his handsome face and sizable cock, had earned him a considerable number of followers on OnlyFans. While he wasn’t a millionaire, earning an average of about two thousand dollars a month allowed him certain luxuries and a pretty comfortable lifestyle. He enjoyed his routine. He filmed private videos, always eager to please, and responded to the strangest and most specific requests from his fans. No matter what they asked of him, he always found a way to enjoy it; perhaps due to his naturally submissive nature, something he had discovered long ago and now used to his advantage.

That Tuesday, as he checked the messages in his account, he came across a proposal that made him pause. It was from someone named Dom43, who had written to him several times before, though never with such a direct request. The message read:

“I’ll give you a thousand dollars if you gain ten pounds of fat in a month and send me a video of the results. No tricks. I want to see how you change. What do you say?”

Nigel raised an eyebrow and reread the offer over and over. It wasn’t the typical request he was used to. At first, it seemed strange, almost absurd. But the money—a thousand dollars!—was a considerable temptation. Plus, a part of him, the part that had always enjoyed obeying and submitting to others’ desires, felt a twinge of excitement at the idea. After a few minutes of thought, he shrugged and let himself go with his gut.

“I accept,” he wrote back.

He knew doing this would change something, though he wasn’t sure what. What he didn’t expect was just how much this would lead him down an unexpected path.

For Nigel, gaining ten pounds in a month didn’t seem like much of a challenge. And he knew that once he hit the goal and pocketed that thousand dollars, he could go back to his strict diet and regain his physique in a matter of weeks. It was just a simple detour, a small, temporary indulgence. Nothing serious. With that assurance, he decided to change his eating habits.

That same afternoon, he went to the grocery store, filling his cart with everything he normally avoided: frozen pizzas, pastries, salty snacks, and especially lots of tubs of ice cream, which he promised himself to devour every night. Salads were out of the picture for a few weeks. When he got home, the idea of indulging in unrestrained pleasure, of breaking the rules he had imposed on himself for years, turned him on. Even more so when he remembered he was doing it for Dom43, to fulfill his request.

That night, he sat on the couch in front of the TV, a pizza on one side and a tub of ice cream on the other, a smile on his face. At first, he ate because he was hungry, but soon that hunger turned into something darker, more intimate. He kept eating, even though he was no longer hungry. The mere thought of knowing he was stuffing himself, filling up to please someone, gave him a thrill he had never experienced before. When he finished, he lay back on the couch, gently stroking his slightly bloated stomach, feeling strangely satisfied.

***

Two weeks had passed, and Nigel had fully embraced his new routine of excess. He was eating as if it were a competition. The food filled him, but what really satisfied him was the idea of transforming his body at someone else’s request. He knew he was changing, that his body was reacting. And it was confirmed when he weighed himself: eight pounds gained. He was close to reaching his goal.

The next day, while working out, his personal trainer, Mark, noticed something different. Nigel was in the middle of doing crunches when Mark let out a mocking laugh.

“You’ve been slacking a bit, man,” he said, giving Nigel’s stomach a light tap. “You’ve put on some weight. And not just around the belly…” Mark added, motioning toward his backside.

Nigel laughed, trying to hide the heat rushing to his face. “Yeah, well, I’ve been indulging a little—nothing serious.”

Mark shook his head, but the comment stuck with Nigel. That teasing remark hit deep. It didn’t bother him, though. On the contrary, he liked it. For the rest of the workout, he couldn’t stop thinking about how his body was changing, about how much Dom43 would enjoy watching him soften up.

When he got home, he quickly stripped off his clothes and looked in the mirror. He touched his stomach, which was no longer as flat as it once was, and caressed the soft roundness beginning to form on his rear. Mark’s words echoed in his mind, and at that moment, Nigel couldn’t resist any longer. He collapsed onto his bed and jerked off, reaching the most intense climax of his life. What had started as a simple game to make some money had now completely consumed him.

The month had come to an end, and Nigel was ready. He carefully set up the camera, making sure the lighting was perfect, bright enough to highlight every change in his body, to show Dom43 the results of his effort. He stood in front of the mirror, took a deep breath, and began undressing slowly, recording the whole process. First, he removed his shirt, revealing his torso. His chest, once firm and defined, now had a slight sag to it. His belly, swollen and covered by a soft layer of fat, folded into rolls when he bent slightly. Then he pulled down his pants, leaving him in his tight white briefs, which now clung to him like never before. His thighs were noticeably thicker. But the real surprise came when he turned around. His ass, bigger and rounder, seemed to want to burst out of the tight fabric. The briefs could barely contain it. He gently touched his ass, feeling its fullness. Without missing a beat, he moved to the scale he had placed in front of the camera. He stepped on it carefully, watching the numbers climb rapidly. And there it was, the number that left him stunned: 191 pounds. He had gained fifteen pounds instead of the ten Dom43 had asked for. Five extra pounds, the result of his complete submission to food. Seeing the number, Nigel instantly got hard, unable to help himself.

“A hundred and ninety-one...” he muttered to himself.

Without thinking any further, he let the excitement take over. He jerked off in front of the camera, his breath ragged, and his moans filling the room. He did it for Dom43, but also for himself, for everything he had discovered about himself in the process.

Once finished, he sent the private video with a mix of anxiety and satisfaction, eagerly awaiting Dom43’s response. It didn’t take long to arrive: a payment confirmation accompanied by a comment that made Nigel shiver. “You’re a pathetic pig. You gained all this weight just because I told you to. I love it.” Nigel read aloud quietly. “I’ll give you ten thousand dollars more if you gain another twenty pounds in two months. Do you dare to become my fantasy?”

Nigel sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his still-naked, slightly sweaty body after the recording. His phone’s screen glowed with Dom43’s message: ten thousand dollars to gain another twenty pounds. The offer was tempting, too tempting. With that kind of money, he wouldn’t have to make more videos for months. He could take a break from his online life and focus on something else. Just the thought of that financial freedom made him feel relieved. But there was something more—a deep desire to please Dom43, to follow his orders, to submit to whatever he asked. It consumed him inside. He had discovered a new form of pleasure. Every pound he gained, every humiliating comment, ignited something within him that he had never felt before. Pleasing Dom43 had become almost an addiction. Yet, fear lingered in the background. He had already gained fifteen pounds, and although he initially thought he could lose it easily, he was starting to doubt whether the same would be true for thirty-five pounds. What if he couldn’t? What if continuing to gain weight destroyed the success of his OnlyFans account?

***

Nigel never imagined he would lose so much control. What started as a challenge, almost a game, had become a new reality. In just a month and a half of nonstop eating, he had gained the twenty-pounds Dom43 requested, pushing his body to limits he had never thought possible. Now weighing 211 pounds, the man he saw in the mirror was almost unrecognizable. His belly hung over the waistband, his thighs rubbed together with every step, and his once firm chest now bounced lightly with each movement. But the most shocking transformation of all was his ass, now enormous, two soft masses that jiggled with every step. And for some reason, that excited him more than it scared him.

When he arrived at the gym one afternoon, Mark greeted him with his usual mocking grin.

"Well, look who's here: my star client," Mark said sarcastically, his eyes scanning Nigel’s new body.

Throughout the workout, Mark made constant comments about his weight. Every time Nigel did a squat or lifted weights, he could feel Mark’s eyes on him, watching how his belly wobbled or how his ass strained against his shorts, which barely contained it anymore. But the most intense moment came after the workout when Nigel stepped out of the showers. As he was drying off, he noticed Mark watching him from across the locker room.

"Jesus, man..." Mark said, his eyes trailing over Nigel’s naked body. "You're huge. Like, seriously."

Before Nigel could respond, Mark stepped closer and gave him a smack on the ass. The sound echoed in the room, and Nigel’s butt cheeks rippled under Mark’s firm hand like jello. Nigel felt his face heat up, a mix of shame and arousal spreading over his skin.

"Damn," Mark laughed, "that moves like jello. What have you been eating, ice cream by the gallon? You’re getting obese, dude."

Nigel couldn’t answer, his throat dry, his mind stuck on the echo of Mark’s words. Obese. It was the first time anyone had called him that, and instead of being offended, the word hit him like a lightning bolt of pure desire. He tried to laugh, but the sound came out weak, almost choked.

He stood in front of the camera, taking deep breaths as he prepared for his second private session with Dom43. Like before, he undressed slowly, savoring each moment. He pulled off his shirt, revealing a torso that no longer had any trace of the firm muscles he once prided himself on. His chest was soft and round, visibly moving with each breath. His nipples had widened and felt unusually sensitive as he brushed his fingers over them. Then he slid off his pants, left in the same white briefs from the previous video. This time, they felt like a cruel joke. The edges dug into his hips and thighs, squeezing him in a way that was both uncomfortable and intensely arousing. His swollen belly hung slightly over the waistband, which seemed ready to give up the fight. Nigel turned to face the camera, letting it capture the most obvious change of all: his ass. It completely filled the briefs, making them look absurdly small. The fabric was stretched to its limit, with the tops of his cheeks spilling over, exposing the crack as if the briefs couldn’t possibly contain so much mass. He gave a slight shake, and his ass jiggled, continuing to bounce for a few seconds before settling. Seeing himself like that—so exposed, so impossibly large—sent a wave of arousal through him that nearly made him lose control right then and there. Nigel couldn’t help but smile. He knew Dom43 would love seeing what he had accomplished. The high point of the video came when he stepped onto the scale, carefully positioned in front of the camera. He showed the result: 211 pounds. Thirty-five pounds more than he weighed when this all began. He couldn’t help himself; the thrill of having transformed for someone else, of having fully surrendered to it, overwhelmed him. Once again, he masturbated in front of the camera, but this time, the orgasm was more intense, more liberating. His breath grew ragged, and every curve of his body shook with the force of his release.

When it was over, he sent the video to Dom43. The payment came through quickly, but what made Nigel’s heart race wasn’t the large sum of money. It was the words that followed.

“You’ve become my obedient pig. You’re good for nothing but getting fatter. You should be ashamed of how far you’ve fallen, but the worst part is, I know you love it.”

Nigel swallowed hard, feeling a knot tighten in his stomach. It was true. He loved every humiliating word, every cruel comment that made him feel smaller, more submissive, despite his growing size. But it was the last line of the message that left him frozen.

“I’ll give you twenty thousand dollars if you gain another thirty pounds.”

***

Nigel was nervous. It had been over two months since he last filmed a video for his regular OnlyFans subscribers, and now, with his body drastically transformed, he had no idea how they would react. He wanted to see if the weight gain had changed anything, if his fans were still interested in him despite the fact that he no longer had the muscular, chiseled physique that had attracted them in the first place. Deep down, he hoped it wouldn’t matter too much, that they would still desire him, and that he wouldn’t have to rely on Dom43 to stay financially stable. He set up the camera like always, but this time, he took a longer look at himself in the mirror. It was incredible how much his body had changed in just two months. His body felt heavy. Every movement made him more aware of his size.

"It's just a video," he whispered to himself, trying to calm his nerves. "I just want to see how they react."

He stood in front of the camera, shirtless, revealing his round, soft torso, wearing only a pair of black briefs that used to be loose on him. He did the usual gestures he used in his videos, showing his body from different angles, touching his chest and stomach, running his hands over the areas now covered in fat.

He uploaded the video.

The first responses came in quickly. As soon as he read the comments, his fears were confirmed. There was no acceptance, no admiration. Just criticism, mockery, and, above all, shock.

“What happened to you? You used to look incredible, but now you look like a different person,” wrote one of his longtime followers.

“You’re huge! And not in a good way. What kind of joke is this?” added another.

The comments kept coming, each one harsher than the last. They called him fat and disgusting. Some even felt betrayed by the change, as if Nigel had deliberately hidden what he’d been doing over the past few months. Others openly laughed at him, making fun of how his body had lost all definition. Nigel read every word, feeling a mix of humiliation and indescribable excitement. He had expected a negative reaction, but the brutal honesty of their attacks surpassed all his expectations. Far from feeling defeated, something dark and deep inside him awakened. Each insult, each criticism, made him feel more alive, more aware of his body and what he had achieved. The taunts about his physique didn’t discourage him; they aroused him in a way he couldn’t ignore. It was as if those words freed him. He didn’t want to go back. He wanted to push forward. He turned off his computer screen and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Dom43 had offered him twenty thousand dollars to gain another thirty pounds. Thirty pounds that would transform him even more, taking him to a new level of submission. He had thought about rejecting the offer, about going back to his former physique. But after reading his fans’ comments, after feeling the impact of their words on his body, there was no longer any doubt. With a smile on his face, Nigel decided he was going to accept the challenge. He was ready to fully give in, to see just how far he could go.

***

Nigel stopped going to the gym altogether. Every morning, he woke up to the same routine: eat, jerk off, and eat more. His appetite seemed endless, and his libido was out of control, higher than ever. The discipline he once had had crumbled, replaced by an obsession with giving in to food and the thrill of his own transformation. His clothes no longer fit. The jeans, tight shirts, and briefs that had once defined his muscular figure now wouldn't even make it past his thighs or tore when he tried putting them on. Soon, he realized the only piece of clothing that still fit him was an old tracksuit, and even that didn’t fit well—it was so tight that the fabric stretched ridiculously, and his belly stuck out. He only wore it when he went out to buy more food, but at home, he spent his days completely naked.

In three months, Nigel had gained another thirty-five pounds, surpassing even Dom43’s challenge. His body was unrecognizable, and the scale didn’t lie. He weighed 246 pounds, a number he’d never imagined reaching. His thighs were so thick they had changed the way he walked. His belly was soft, round, and hung over. His arms, once firm, were now wrapped in fat. And his chest, completely soft, jiggled with even the slightest movement. He knew it was time to film the video for Dom43. He prepared in the simplest and most provocative way possible: completely naked, with a box of donuts by his side and the scale ready to show the result. The camera started rolling, and Nigel let himself get caught up in the moment. He grabbed one of the donuts and bit into it slowly, letting the sugar slide down his lips as he chewed exaggeratedly. He knew Dom43 would love to see him like this, enjoying the food that had turned him into what he was now.

“I’ve surpassed your challenge,” Nigel said, his voice thick with pleasure as he bit into another donut. “Another thirty-five pounds. I hope you’re happy.”

He stood up with difficulty, his ass visibly bouncing as he walked toward the scale. He stepped onto it with some effort, and it stopped at 246 pounds. Nigel showed the number to the camera with a satisfied grin on his face.

“246 pounds,” he said with pride in his voice. “But that’s not all.”

He grabbed a measuring tape and started measuring his body. First, he wrapped it around his waist.

“Fifty inches,” he announced, staring at his belly.

Then he measured his ass, which had turned into a massive ball of fat, and the number was just as shocking.

“Fifty-three inches. I can’t even fit in my office chair.”

Nigel paused for a moment, looking at the camera with a euphoric expression.

“All of this... is for you, Dom43. I hope you’re enjoying this as much as I am.”

He ended the video with one last bite, chewing slowly as he jiggled his whole body while masturbating. When he finished, he turned off the camera and collapsed onto the couch, panting from exhaustion. He sent the video to Dom43 and waited, knowing the response wouldn’t take long. When it came, it was exactly what he expected.

“You’ve exceeded my expectations, pig. I never imagined you’d reach this point, that you’d become such a mountain of fat for me. Look at yourself, you’re pathetic, completely out of control. And you know what? I love it. You’ve done everything I asked and more. You’re the perfect submissive fat boy. You’re good for nothing but eating, getting fatter, and letting others laugh at you. But I must also say, I’m proud of you. You’ve proven you’re completely mine, willing to transform yourself this way just to please me. You’re incredible, in the worst way possible, of course, but that’s exactly where your greatness lies.”

Nigel stared at the screen, absorbed in the words. He had done everything Dom43 had wanted. And yet, he felt he could go further. The idea of gaining even more weight, of leaving behind any trace of his former self, called to him with unstoppable force. Without thinking too much, he typed the question that had been on his mind for days, a question that made him tremble with anticipation:

“How much will you pay me if I reach 300 pounds?”

The silence that followed for a few seconds was deafening, but Dom43’s response came quickly.

“I’m not paying you anything. This time, you won’t do it for the money. I want you to do it for me, because you can’t stop yourself now. I want you to gain until you reach 300 pounds just to please me, because now you know that’s the only thing that turns you on. You’ll do it because you belong to me.”

Nigel took a deep breath, feeling each word of that message wrap around him, filling him with a mix of submission and absolute pleasure. He knew Dom43 was right. It was no longer about the money. It was about something much bigger. What had started as a simple desire to fulfill a fantasy had become his reality. With trembling fingers, he typed the only thing he knew he could say at that moment, the only thing his mind and cock screamed for with overwhelming clarity:

“I’ll do it.”

#gainer stories #gaining fat #gaining kink #gaining weight on purpose #gay gainer #gainer fiction

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musedblues · 10 months ago

Text

AMORE ~ FATI (part 1)

a/n: wait until the movie? nah. haven't stopped thinking about this freaky fucker since the trailer dropped! eat up, babes. also the horny police called and there is a warrant out for my arrest.

description: after winding up in a crime related to the royals, geta strikes up a deal with you.

warnings: down right hoe shit, sexual descriptions, gruesome descriptions, minimal historical research/ distant memories from high school test, cliff hanger. MINORS DNI

Part 1 of 2 (at least)

///

The afternoon was like any other, the day your life changed. You awoke to an empty home, gathered your cart of crafts, and headed to the stalls. You sold your paintings there and begged the clouds to cover the swelter of the sun.

For your landscape art, you accepted coin. You accepted food. You accepted a jeweled ring that afternoon, just as well. An exchange like it wasn't out of the ordinary. You pawned the adornment for cash that evening, and made the trek back home. With plans to paint pictures into the night, to sell off the next day.

Your home was quaint, once big enough for two, now only you haunted the halls. The man you'd once been forced to marry had been dead for many months now, and a certain freedom was found in his absence. But a certain monotony about your routine seemed to predetermine the days ahead as far as you could see them. So, you painted.

As you fiddled with brushes and stained your grey dress with speckles of deep amber, a bursting knock came across your door. The guest gave you no time to greet them before turning into an intruder. Two royal guards burst into your home, shouting and grabbing you and dragging you away. All so quickly.

You went fighting. You cursed as they held you in a carriage. You demanded their silence broken. But they remained stone faced as you begged to know why you'd been abducted from your home.

Your captors rode into the city, past the colosseum, right through the gates that led to the home of the reigning family. Your heart hammered in fear, knowing what you knew about the rulers. Caracalla and Geta had only just taken over the reign of their father, their mother looming near, picking sides; as you understood. Since the change in leadership, Rome hadn't suffered en mass. But a growing dread hung heavy over the population, knowing the brothers were struggling to join together in power. Knowing their clash divided not only their power, but all of Rome.

You were grabbed at once more, forced out of the carriage and into the great hall of the estate. Gold and red statues lined the entrance. A plum rug stretched before your feet, a welcoming cushion as the rest of your senses were drowned by harshness. Before you, pacing near his throne, Geta waited.

You'd seen him and his brother before, trailing behind their father at rallies. Lingering near the stands at games. You'd always let your gaze settle on Geta, if ever you'd seen him. You'd always been drawn to gawk at the trimness of his figure. The enigmatic expressions he would pull. The presence he commanded. He was easy to admire, from afar. And the towns ladies often gossiped of how alluring he could be up close, if they were lucky enough to be invited to do so. No one spoke as much of Caracalla. In his name, fear and loathing often followed.

With a glare in your direction, Geta ceased pacing. He nodded toward his guards to relinquish their hold on you.

"What is all this?" You demanded, refusing to bow or humble yourself before this ruler in anyway. How could you dare offer up respect when little to none had been offered to you? Geta seemed taken aback, for a flash. His brows furrowed and his lips parted in shock, at your boldness. But then a grin flickered across his lips and his pacing started up once more.

"You're in possession of something of mine, no?" Geta alluded. Want as you might've to argue, to proclaim your innocence, you were too baffled. What could he possibly be on about?

"You were seen taking a ring as payment today, at your stall." Geta boomed, voice filling the room, echoing off the tall painted ceilings. He started into a story, then, that made things clearer. You learned that ring was a family heirloom, stolen by a servant only one night ago. That he'd sold it to a carriage driver for freedom. You learned that servant had been slain. But the ring was still gone. And you were the last person seen with the distinct bluish jewel in your palm. There were many a shopper along the street market this morning. Several were looking into your stall as you accepted the ring for payment. You couldn't deny the action. But you didn't have it any longer, anyhow.

"I exchanged it for money. With the sellers near the river." You decidedly conceded. "I've got nothing more to do with this now release me." Your voice shook, out of fear for your fate, and anger for your circumstance.

"Names." Geta stalled his meander, a few steps away from you. His dark eyes had cast across your figure before boring right into yours. You couldn't look right at him without feeling a shiver up your spine. And you were not about to let on that Geta had this effect on you. So, you cast your gaze to the hands at his sides, and scoffed at what you saw.

"Why? Are the rings already on your fingers not good enough? You cannot be allowed to want for what you don't have, if you're in possession of more than enough already."

"What's mine is mine! No one else's." Geta yelled, keeping his eye's boring into yours. His voice shook through the halls, and fueled your rage further. Your rage for your circumstance, and for that of this nation.

"Your greed shall poison this empire." You spat at the man.

"An empire I was born to rule cannot be soured, destiny has been at work since my conception and my father's before me." Geta grinned, an all-knowing sort of smile that was meant to belittle you, you were certain. But you couldn't be made to feel so worthless.

"We are all born to die, your highness."

"Your opposition will result in bleakness if you do not answer my call for this information. Give me their names." Geta shouted, still inches from you. Geta was giving you a chance to answer. And that shocked you. You voiced your opposition only because you thought you were surely moments away from being killed, and refused to die without standing your ground. But here you still stood. Geta was letting you.

As taken aback by his patience as you were, his arrogance and demanding shouts were only deepening your desire to withhold. To stand resolute. Who were you to ruin some poor people's lives over a bit of jewelry? Your silence was deafening, each passing moment tensing at Geta's shoulders. You watched his jaw clench, you watched his eye's dance between your own. You smiled.

"Get her out of my sight." Geta hissed, waving his men to capture you once more. You rolled your eyes as they grabbed at you. "Keep her in the cellar until she starts talking. Do not, however... take drastic measures."

You shot a perplexed frown the rulers way as he shook his head in your direction. A scowl turned Geta's lips down. But as he watched you begin to growl in unwillingness to go, his smile curled to life.

"And what of you? What punishments are you allotted?" You yelled as the guards dragged you away. Geta kept his furrowed smirk pointed at you, a puzzled sparkle in his eye.

///

The cellar smelled damp as it felt, your feet squelching along the dirt paths. You'd been taken past a row of prisoners, all in various stages of wither. You closed your eyes too them, offering silent prayers for their fates in passing.

"In you go," A guard shoved you toward the back of a small cell, chuckling as he locked the barred off door. "When you're ready to talk, we just might be around to listen. Let's hope we don't forget about you all the way over in this corner."

How had you ended up here? Hours ago, you'd been at peace in your quiet cottage, paint brush in hand. Now you sat on a wooden bench, senses filled with cold. How were the gods so cruel? Why did you have to accept that stupid ring? Why didn't you admire it longer? Maybe you would've found evidence of its owner, somehow, in the royal gleam of the thing. Maybe you could have returned it with honor, the promise of your home awaiting you. But none of that was happening. Now, you were unsure of everything. But you weren't going to go down without a fight. You weren't going to rat out the innocent fellow you pawned with, for simply surviving another day of this confounding life. You weren't eager to play into the rulers demands for more, as if he didn't have enough. As if he deserved to be granted assurance when himself and his brother offered Rome none.

Hours must've passed. Guards floated by time and again, jeering at you through the bars of your cell. As they passed you by, the voices grew louder yet, giving other prisoners hell. You heard shouts and screams. You heard begging for torture to cease. You heard the stabbing of flesh and the gurgle of blood. You heard the quiet from your own cell. Why were you being spared of such treatment? Why was your confinement different from the others?

As you began to question your own sanity, and the fate the gods had in store for you, a guard was passing by your cell once more. He stopped there, jamming a key into the lock. This was it. Your turn had come. You braced to be berated as the man reached in and yanked you to stand. The guard demanded you to follow as he dragged you through the cellar the same way you'd come in.

Suddenly you were in the great hall again. The purple carpet like clouds under your step. There were servants arranging decor as if an event were to be taking place soon. Your observation of the hall was short lived as the single guard dragged you up a marble staircase. The home was vast, and full of well painted statues and portraits and windows. The sun was long gone from the sky. It had to be later than midnight. As you soaked up your surroundings and let your imagination run wild, you tried not to worry how you'd be executed. You tried to remind yourself that death waited for no one. You tried to remember the last picture you'd been painting, a field of sheep under a setting sun.

Your captor stalled before a great carved door, twisting the handle. Your captor dragged you inside.

Candles lit a room with a bed in the middle, the biggest you'd ever seen. The amber glow of the space was welcoming, despite the terror that resided about your situation. Beyond the bed was a table full of wine, bottles of all sort decorated the clothed stand. Before the table, was Geta. His slump on a stool shifted when he saw you. Moving to stand, the man dressed more scarcely than before was slow to approach you. His expression unreadable.

"Leave us." He demanded, pointing the guard to exit the room. The man's parting left chills in his wake. What was to become of you now? What was this all about?

Geta did not stay still at your front. He instead let his head roll from one side to the other as his pace turned back toward the cloth covered table. Among the bottles of wine were a scattered few chalices. He filled one with a drink. And then another.

"We caught the carriage driver who initially accepted the ring." Geta announced, back toward you all the while. You admired the tone of his shoulders, as one was left uncovered by his robe. The cloth stayed tied among his waist. "We also captured the man you pawned the ring off to. We have the ring." Geta continued, bringing both cups of wine over to where you stood. Ah, so poison was to be your execution?

Accepting the chalice in a fist, you stayed silent all the while. Geta locked his tired gaze on yours and kept talking.

"The ring was my fathers. Something he left just to me. Caracalla was given finery as well, just for himself. We do not do well with equity, my brother and I." Geta raised his wine for a sip and kept his dark gaze locked on your own. His eye's were red from lack of sleep, it seemed. His eyes were bright, all the while, as they peered into yours. This leader had a way of drawing you in. This leader had a way of making you forget you were probably on the verge of slaughter or worse.

"And while this mission to hunt down the ring has been my mission alone, Caracalla's wrath has still been promoted since he learned something of our fathers had gone missing." Geta explained.

"What's become of the carriage driver and the man I sold your ring to?" You dared to wonder.

"The servant was killed as you know, by Caracalla's own sword. The driver has been exiled at my command." Geta said. "But the man you sold it too was killed as well, by my brother's guards. Before I could get to him. You see my wrath is often equal to Caracalla's. But my bloodlust isn't as insatiable. And I can see his way of violence has stirred fear among our people. Would you agree?"

You had to nod.

"I do not wish death upon you. Blood should only be shed in battles and in honor. You were a simple moving part. You should not deserve to be killed in the crossfire. But you should pay for stumbling where you dared not have stepped. Otherwise, Caracalla will catch wind that I let you slip away without a punishment. And he will do worse."

"So, what is my fate?" You wondered, clutching the wine in your fist, unmoving. Mind whirring. Had you really been shown a backhanded kindness by the ruler you'd always believed to be more unyielding? His already alluring nature becoming more attractive as you understood this to be true.

"Exile seems drastic, yes. But it's an option." Geta raised his glass to gesture, moving to pace before a cushioned chaise. This room, his room, wanted for nothing. There was space and comfort and treasure promised throughout its expanses.

"Then there could be a fine. You'd be meant to pay every fortnight." Geta reasoned drinking once more. Still not entirely trusting of your own wine, you rested the chalice on a nearby chest, crossing your arms with a scowl. As if this Empire needed more money.

"I'm too poor to keep that up." You spat, expressing displeasure in your tone. Geta raised a brow and frowned when he realized your implication, how much work needed to be done for the betterment of the population. With a sigh, Geta cast his gaze about the room. When his pace turned naturally closer to you, his eye's locked on your face as a realization dawned across his. Geta let a smirk hint at his lips as his dark eyes glanced into yours.

"There is... another way..." Geta implied something you didn't see coming. As the man continued his languid back and forth, his gaze stayed ever fixed on your figure. And you hadn't really been ashamed of the glances you'd stolen of his, this day. He was drawing closer, as if to entice you. He didn't need to know that it wouldn't have taken much seduction. He didn't need to know that you'd already been wondering what it would be like to untie the robe at his waist.

Geta didn't need to know that you were becoming less wrought with terror by the second. You'd hoped he'd never known you were afraid, before. But now, in the flickering candlelight of his lavish room, you saw him. The persona Geta had put on all these years, all this time, was just that. You could see plain as day. Geta was full of anger, yes. But he seemed full of so much more, to you, now, too. The man seemed to hold a brewing mixture of depth about him that felt so obvious all of a sudden. Now, more endeared to the ruler, and just as attracted, you made up your mind.

"Seeing as I have no funds... let's just get this over with." You sighed, feigning impatience for the wrong reasons.

Geta circled you, eyeing you up. You wanted to melt under how hot his gaze was. But right now this was all happening far too slowly. Your interest had skyrocketed. But your time had also been heavily wasted here. You had plans, after all. He'd held you captive long enough.

"Sit down. I'm tired of waiting." You barked at him, shoving his shoulder so he collapsed into the chaise. Geta fell seated at your order but looked up to you with an irate sneer. An anger passed over his expression but morphed into curiosity in a blink.

"Seeing as to how I'm getting what I want out of you, I don't mind giving into your demands." Geta announced, as if to remind you he was the one calling the shots. You couldn't help but grin, struggling not to roll your eyes at the man's obsession with power. Humming so he knew you heard him, you settled either knee at Geta's sides.

As the ruler's fingers reached to grab at your hips, your day flashed before your imagination. Funny how life worked. How days could be spent so monotonously for so long only to become upturned and scattered about the next. You never imagined you'd find yourself straddling one of Rome's emperors over a payment for your latest painting.

Geta's kiss surprised you. Not the fact that it was bruising, and harsh. But the fact that it was. You assumed this would go quickly, without much effort put into anything besides a quick and vulgar shagging. Granted, his lips didn't press into yours longer than a couple minutes, before his teeth were digging into your neck. But the way his hands wandered to grab at your limbs and claw at your skin was a welcomed affection you had not expected.

When you finally got to untie the robe around his waist, you couldn't help but admire the build of his core, the shape of his figure. You'd heard girl's oggle over the emperor before, he was no stranger to trysts of most kind. You'd heard girl's trade deadly details of their nights spent with Geta, his lust unbridled. But the sight of his body bare before yours was better than any rumor you'd caught wind of.

As you lowered yourself into Geta's lap, he was quick to rock his hips against yours with force you had been bracing for. His grip on your hips threatened to turn you over, but you'd be damned if you let him gain complete control. You rose a hand to the man's head, raking a set of fingers through his hair. Your fingers curled to grip with perhaps too much gusto, and your hips rolled to force Geta back, more fully seated.

You heard the man let out a hoarse curse as his grip lightened, as he accepted your dominance. Did this really count as payment if you were getting more out of it?

Geta pushed you away when it was all said and done, a steady hand stayed holding your side as he nudged you off of his lap. You maneuvered to stand, adjusting the skirt of your dress with a sigh.

"I suppose I should thank you for sparing my life. Surely thought you'd take it. Shame our exchange has come to an end. Didn't quite feel like a payment at all." A daring smirk painted your face as you turned to head for the door. You heard Geta lumber to stand, perhaps drunk off wine and pleasure. His feet padded as your hand reached for the handle of your escape.

"What was the painting?" Geta asked, stalling your leave and perplexing you to turn to face him. He was shrugging his robe back into place with a raised brow. "The painting bought with my ring, what was it?"

"Oh," You realized, pursing a frown. "I- I don't exactly recall. I do a lot of landscapes. Seascapes. Could've been anything like it." You noted. Geta watched you speak, mouth opened, stalled to say more. His tongue glided over the ends of his teeth as the man nodded and sauntered back toward his table full of wine.

"My guards will see to your return home." Geta called, back facing you. You took that as your leave, anxious for some rest after exhausting your mind with wonder all day, and your body with pleasure this night. As you shut the emperor's door with a soft click, a gratitude filled your chest. That could've gone a lot worse.

///

The next day seemed surreal. You recalled the night like a fevered dream, like a plot from a book. But there were scratches along your thighs that reminded you what had happened was very truly real. You recalled the feelings Geta stirred in you with warmth.

You milled from room to room, mind in constant awe of the way your life had been spared. Since the brothers had come into power, so many senseless killings had been threatened and followed through. So much violence had afflicted common criminals and the odd person out of place alike. Was it more to do with Caracalla? Was he truly the more cruel? Did Geta have a softness about him? Or had you just gotten damn lucky?

You went about your daily chores and sat down to paint. Your art displayed sheep dotting across greyish green land. Your setting sun was in progress. A breeze flowed through the window, and you imagined it in your painting as well. A knocking rattled your door. It's persistence grating your nerves. Only now, at least, no one was intruding.

Maybe that's why you were shocked more so now than before, to see two royal guards at your front door.

"Geta is demanding your audience." One of them chuckled lowly before reaching to grab at you. He was too strong to fight off, though kick and yell you did.

Oh God, he'd realized he'd let you off easy, hadn't he? You should've pretended to hate rocking against his lap in that chair. You should've begged for freedom. Or maybe it was Caracalla after all. Maybe he'd heard of your involvement with his father's stolen ring and wished you dead. And these guards were luring you in with a false promise that Geta was the one wishing for a meeting.

While your mind raced, and the carriage took off into the city and passed the colosseum, you cursed the guards for dragging you away again. For being such fowl scum of the earth to manhandle women like they did.

It wasn't long before you were being yanked from the ride and marched into the great hall with that luscious purple carpet underfoot. Geta was there, assessing a scroll with a couple of servants nearby. His shock surprised you, when his glance looked up from the papers.

As you squirmed against the holds the guards kept on you, Geta shoved the scroll he held onto, into the grasp of a servant. He drew his sword from his side, the instrument of war and horror blinding you in its brightness. The emperors stomp in your direction was quick, his footfall shaking the building and you to your core. This was it. This was your fate.

"Release her now!" Geta yelled, directing his fury to one of the guards at your side. Before the words fully formed from the man's mouth, either of the guard's grips had unlatched from your arms. You did not see that coming. You almost couldn't comprehend that his blade had missed piercing straight through you.

"You were gone for all of a few seconds before you bring her back here?" Geta quizzed, face red with anger. He held the end of his sword to the man's chin, forcing his footsteps back.

"You- you told us to go fetch the girl from last afternoon, is that not what we did your highness?" The guard was bold in asking, though his voice trembled.

"I told you to ask her to come. I told you to remain at her door in patience. And you dare drag the woman back in the matter of mere moments? With force? That's a direct disregard of my orders!" With speed that rallied a gasp from your throat, Geta whipped his sword to slash at the knees of the guard that defied him. The man let out a cry as his legs gave way, sending the fellow to collapse. Geta ordered the other guard to take the injured one to a medic and stay there until he was ready to deal with them further. His blood pooled and stained the purple carpet.

"Why am I here again?" You couldn't linger in uncertainty any longer, once again failing to greet the leader without any respect of his authority. Geta plunged his red stained sword into its sheath as he demanded his servants get out. The workers scattered at the sound of his command, scurrying toward exits. The room was filled with quiet as Geta turned to face you fully.

"I'm sorry they dragged you here. You were only meant to show up if you so wished." Geta's voice was lower, his rage subdued. He confounded you, the way he held so much darkness and contempt about him. The way he eased into constraint. These were not the stories you had heard. This was not the man described to you by retired servants and wives of soldiers. He was more withheld, before you. And it caught you by surprise time and again.

"But since you are here now, and you have not yet raised a hand to lash across my cheek, I shall tell you," Geta went on, letting his eyes do what they had done before. Letting his gaze sweep across your figure. "I asked you here to present to you a proposition. An invitation to spend more evenings like the one we shared just before."

"You cannot be serious." You let a breath of a laugh fan from your throat.

"I'm hardly ever anything but." Geta reasoned with a curled lip and a shrug of his shoulder in a way you knew was meant to get you to chuckle for real. This man continued to confound you. This man contained multitudes. How had no one else, in all their gossip, mentioned this?

"Is this more to do with payment? Did our exchange not suffice?" You reasoned, still uncertain of the terms in which Geta was asking.

"I think you know exactly how well our exchange sufficed. Well enough for me to not have stopped dreaming of doing exactly that time and time again. I'm merely asking because I wish too." Geta was so close, his breath ghosting across your cheek, his eyes searching yours. "And now you get to decide what you wish. Who am I to deny you a choice?"

"What happens should I turn to leave?" You wondered.

"A guard would take you home. And with fair treatment, I'd make certain."

"What happens should I stay?"

"A servant would take you upstairs. And your imagination could fill in the rest."

Well, this certainly wasn't how you expected your day to turn out. That painting of all the sheep and the sunset would have to wait another long day. You suddenly couldn't dream of plans outside of those featuring Rome's half reigning emperor.

With a nod toward the door you'd seen Geta's servants go through, he grinned.

With footsteps more certain of the direction of his room, you found yourself locked in there, waiting.

///

The next weeks were filled with plans you couldn't tell anyone without fear they'd think you'd gone mad. You spent days milling about the stalls to sell your landscape paintings, careful of the payments you accepted. You'd harvest the fruits from your garden for meals and wait until night fall, when your promised escort arrived.

Nights were spent in Geta's room, on his floor, against his wall, in that blessed chaise. Nights were spent shoving the emperors head into the pillows as your hips rocked together. Nights were spent demanding he speed up and slow down at your desire. Nights were spent with Geta sharing wine in between drawn-out romps. You'd drink and laugh and carry on, a couple times until the sun peaked dimly into a new day. You'd stay drinking, sharing stories about where you had come from and your hardships. Things you'd hardly spoken of before. Things you couldn't believe Geta would listen so intently to.

It started off as only a few times throughout any given week. But at the end of those nights Geta would always ask about the next. You'd offer up a day or a time and he'd promise you that he'd see to it happening. He would pour you more wine and tell you the dirtiest jokes, and ask what pleased you most before those nights ended.

But after a while, he stopped asking. And your escort showed up outside your door more nights than most. And it became a rather expected part of the schedule of either of your days.

This night as you padded across the purple carpet, following behind a servant you'd come to trust; a ruckus was sounding from the stairwell you headed toward.

There you found Geta and his brother spitting fowl words in one another's direction. The men were swarmed by guards, ready to take on any outcome of the boys spat. And while they argued about political things you weren't privy to the full details of, you understood they spoke their father's name. You heard Caracalla remind Geta that their father had decidedly upped Rome's soldiers pay to ensure their loyalties to the empire. You heard Geta shout something about how his father was dead, how the brothers needed to learn to ensure loyalties in their own manner. And then he noticed you had arrived.

"Thank God." Geta seethed, waving his brother off, taking the stairs two at a time to lower himself to greet you.

"For you, Geta, trust is easily earned, isn't it?" Caracalla shouted, still domineering about the stairs. "A bat of your lashed eyes toward any common whore and they come flooding through our halls." Caracalla cast a snarl in your direction that turned Geta's blood so hot you swore you could feel the smoke coming off him. With a decidedly quick hand, you rested your fingers to grip Geta's arm, stopping him from running up the staircase to rip his brother in two. You didn't care so much what Caracalla thought of you, so long as Geta's opinion remained unchanged.

"But my powers of persuasion are not so charming. And I must demand trust more harshly. And I must remain harsh to keep control. And I do control the half of this empire entrusted in my name!" Caracalla was seething, fists balled at his sides, eyes bulging with rage. You'd never known anyone to be fueled by such negativity. Geta had slowly started toward his brother, letting your grip remain on his arm.

"We'll reach an agreement. But not till morning. Go back to your side of the estate, now." Geta demanded, taking the staircase slowly, keeping his eyes on his brother. The younger one stood shaking with fury as the elder led you to his room. Guards and servants followed, wordlessly seeing the pair of you behind closed doors. A couple of soldiers usually waited on either end of this hall, but tonight a few more lingered near in addition. These boys really hated each other.

Once locked in his room, safe from rage and question, Geta had you pinned against the wall. He'd usually greet you. He'd usually ask about what paintings you'd sold that day, or if you'd had any great stories of your family before they sold you to a husband. Or of your husband before he died. But tonight, Geta was ravenous. Tonight, he moved more accordingly to the rumors you'd once heard about him.

The emperor didn't fuss with your clothes. He didn't give you time to unravel his either. No sooner than his hand had crept up the skirt of your dress, was he rocking his hips into yours, pounding your back against the wall.

Your nails clawed at the back of his neck and your legs curled to flex around his waist. Geta was relentless as his body hammered into yours. He huffed harder with each new pulse and let out some cursed sighs when your teeth pierced into his shoulder, to keep from screeching all the same. You knew the guards could hear from the hall. But they didn't need to hear more than they had too.

His efforts had ended, his face stayed buried in your neck. But you weren't ready for it to cease.

"You think you're finished? You're only just getting started." You barked, pawing at Geta's head and forearm, shoving him downward. He didn't hesitate, his knees cracked to the floor with force you knew had to hurt. But he didn't seem phased. Geta seemed entirely entranced on bending your knee over his shoulder. Scratching his fingers along your skin. Burying his head between your legs. And he did so consciously, like a duty being fulfilled. He was relentless tonight, and you felt lucky to be relented against.

When your pleasure had ended, and you were left to slide from the wall to find footing, you found the wine too.

"Well, I can't help solve Rome's problems," You began, pouring you each a drink. "But I hope I've just helped solve some of your own, your highness." You half mocked, but half spoke in well-meaning regard. Geta hummed somewhere behind you. His voice sounded nearby. But his hands fell to close the space between you, gripping at the hilt of your hips.

"Dunno, might need to try a couple more times." You could hear the smile in his tone, and you felt his sultry chuckle against your neck, where he nearly dared to place a kiss, but didn't. Geta only reached ahead for his chalice, and asked about your day.

///

You didn't need to sell paintings. You could've lived a basic enough life, fed from the food you grew in your garden, rested from the comfort of your own bed. Secure enough in your late spouses left over finances.

You had known married life for all of five years. Wed before you'd even turned old enough to know better. All because your parents thought it best. They said you'd been sold to a husband to take care of you, in the long run. He did care for you, in his own twisted way. He kept you fed and housed until he died. And he left all his meager earnings to you in his passing. It wasn't much, but it was enough for you, for now, for a while.

You started painting when you moved in with him, to fill the days that dragged on so endlessly. You dreamed of freedom from the man for so long. And kept painting when he died, to fill those same days that were just as endless and a lot quieter to boot. He'd left you all alone in the expanses of the great wide world, yet freedom seemed even more unobtainable to you then, somehow. So, you painted. And decidedly started selling those paintings when the house filled up without room for any more of them. You kept selling them when you realized how eagerly peers bought from you.

You'd made friends down at the stalls. You found a quaint routine there, waiting in the sun to trade paintings for coins, and chattering with townspeople while the mornings stayed young. Bakers and seamstresses and writers alike shared your routine, all becoming familiar faces you were pleased to see each day.

"Goodmorning, you!" A trio of girls your age came giggling your way. Girls you'd invited over a few times. Girls you were happy to see now.

"Listen, are you going to the games in three day's time? I'd like us all to twirl about the colosseum buzzed on vino, carefree!" The small brunette leaned across the table your art was displayed on.

"She just wants to go to wait on Geta, afterward. He always invites girls in after the games." The blonde rolled her eyes, leaning against the post of your stall as you chuckled in understanding, and out of sudden apprehension. You and Geta agreed to your trysts because he trusted how discreet you could be. When you refused to bend your will to give the names of the people you pawned his ring to, he admired that. You couldn't give yourself away, now.

"But haven't you heard?" The redhead leaned in, waving you all to listen closer. "Geta hasn't invited any of the girls that wait at the empire gates in, in weeks."

You'd often trailed in past that very line of girls in question, much to their growing displeasure. Luckily, none of them were from the side of the country you had resided. None of them could spread your name around in whispers, as they did not know it.

"I'm still eager to take my chances." The brunette joked, going on to beg you to come to the games at the colosseum.

"I don't know." Was the best answer you could give without disappointing your friends, or thinking up a messy lie on the spot.

///

Another night in Geta's room was unusually spent in his bed. You'd been used to being forced against a chest of drawers, his voice growling in your ear. Or yours demanding the emperor sit on the stool before the table of wine, and wait in agony like a good, obedient, merciful ruler.

But tonight, Geta had you moving slower in his sheets. He'd closed his eyes as your hips rocked atop his, nice and easy. And when he reached to flip you over, his core pierced languidly into yours. His hand brushed across your cheek and his eyes stayed steadily locked on yours.

"Are you feeling quite alright?" You couldn't help but worry, too overcome with the silence that fell about the room. Geta had been resting at your side, his finger tracing the same pattern against your stomach forever.

"What if you stayed, tonight?" The ruler asked, after a while.

"You didn't answer my question. You realized, still confused as to what mood you'd found Geta in tonight. You'd been often surprised by his wit and his resolution. But this wasn't a way you'd known the emperor before.

"You didn't answer mine either." He pointed, finger still dancing across the skin of your abdomen. You turned your head to find Geta's gaze. His head rested on a pillow at your side, his eyes rolling up to lock with yours. His dark brown stare was illuminating. His curls graced his head so delicately. His silence was so reticent this night. Maybe it was the fact neither of you had had any wine.

"I'll stay if you tell me what's going on in that head of yours." You shot a pointed look to the man at your side who let a lifeless smile flash across his lips as his eyes turned away from yours. Silence filled the room once more, but you got the sense that Geta was choosing his words a while.

"Nothing... none of this is how I thought it would be." Geta spoke. You kept your eyes cast across his amber lit room, fixating on the pattern of the wallpaper. What did he mean?

"What's this?" You quizzed. "Ruling an empire? Sleeping with me? Sobriety from wine for a night?" You tried to joke, desperate for some kind of clarity.

"None of it." Geta responded, his inflection implying everything you listed was weighing on his mind then. And that surprised you. He was always surprising you. Silence settled yet again, and stayed for a while. It was Geta who broke it, after so long. He sat up to meet your eye, searching your gaze before offering a nod. You nodded back, knowing that meant your promise to stay here had been sealed. He rose from the bed to dim the candles, and crashed back into it with a sigh.

When Geta rested his head of golden curls on your chest, in the dark and quiet of his room, you finally understood what he meant. This was all very different now, than it started. None of it had turned out in an expected way. But you felt at ease with it all. You hadn't shared a bed with anyone since your late husband, and those times simply did not count in your mind. You did not care for that man as you had come to care for the one laying against you now. And that dawned on you in fear. But then, a realization that it didn't matter. Not now. Now, you got to rest under the weight of the emperor, for one peaceful night.

///

The next morning was bright and felt early in your bones. And it wasn't long before it hit you, the games were meant to happen today. Geta's stirring at your side was a relished wonder, as his smile widened to see you upon waking. But it all came crashing down as servants and soldiers demanded quick work of getting up and ready for the day of events.

"It will be too hard to send you away now, with all the crowds starting to gather." Geta realized, peering from the window of his room to the public below. "I'll have some appropriate attire sent for you. You shall join us today." The emperor's smile was bitten back, but you saw it reached his eyes as his looked into yours.

Things were shifting with Geta. Night's were turning into days with him. Festivities were offered to be shared. You knew better than to ask. You knew better than to wonder why. You simply thanked him for his offer and waited for clothes to change into as the leader headed out of his room, yelling for a guard to hurry along and follow. You milled about Geta's room, admiring the wallpaper in the daylight. Admiring the stained glass of his window. You traced your finger along carved chests and bed posts. You dared to open a drawer, finding a collection of jewelry there, a familiar blue stoned ring at the front of the collection.

You snapped the drawer shut in a hurry when a knock came across the door.

"Hello." A familiar face entered. Julia, the Emperors mother, twirled in the room with a stack of garments. "These are mine from seasons past. I brought a few, just in case." The woman was dear, with soft curls that matched her sons, gold earrings that brightened her blue eyes. She smiled and introduced herself as if she needed too. For her, you bowed.

"Such a pretty thing, you are." Julia cooed, resting her clothes at the foot of the emperor's bed before turning to consider you. "I've seen you come and go. Quite the feat to boast over. Geta never struggled to make friends, not like Caracalla. But he has failed to keep so many of them."

Julia kept a studying gaze on you as you thanked her for her kindness and watched her saunter out the door. The woman told you to meet the family downstairs once you readied yourself. That's when a certain anxiety settled in the pit of your stomach. What was this? What had you gotten yourself into? Worry plagued your mind as you squeezed into a bright blue and plum skirt. The fabric hugged at your figure but fell so elegantly to the floor. You never dreamed of such finery adorning you. You'd never dreamed of a life so different from the one you'd been used to living.

Downstairs, everyone had gathered, gearing up to head out. Guards of every kind kept the ruling brothers on either side of the room while Julia flitted about, laughing with a man you didn't know. Senators and councilors seemed to mingle with the family just as well, their wives and children patiently lingering on the outskirts of the gathering.

When Julia found you descending the stairs her first greeting after a smile was to tell you how perfectly the dress fit, how powerful you seemed entering the room. She said you held a certain presence about you, keeping a watchful eye on your expression as you gushed to thank her for such continued kindness.

And then you were off, trailing with the wives and the children of the party as the royal family presented themselves before the public. They were loved and hated so that the cheers and boo's from the crowd muddled together in an indistinguishable roar. Your heart pounded to realize how close you were to the action of the day, to realize how viscerally the opinion of the public mattered to the fate of the royals.

You watched Caracalla pull some face, pointing a finger at a citizen who cursed his name on the families walk toward the colosseum. You watched women line themselves along the path Geta walked, his politics be damned. You watched as he turned to look back, smile stretching wider as his eyes found yours. You watched then, as Julia stalled to join your side, and failed to calm the quickening of your heart as she held your arm to walk with you. None of this was how it used to be.

The woman leaned in, explaining exactly how today's games were meant to go. She yammered about the history of it all and pulled a few giggles from your throat as she threw in some personal deadly details about old games she'd bore witness too.

Once you'd all reached the colosseum, the brothers were ushered off to find their royal box, while Julia strategically placed you just outside of there. She frowned when she reminded you could not be allowed to join them further than here, but smiled when she hoped you'd enjoy the day's events. You watched her saunter off, stopping a guard and pointing in your direction before she disappeared in the box all the while. The guard locked his gaze with yours, offering a respectful nod as you considered your surroundings.

All kinds of vendors and stalls were open around every entrance of the arena. All kinds of people wandered about, sampling food and drink, playing cards at tables until the event's kicked off. You decidedly began to wander about, accepting free samples and smiling to people you'd seen in passing. You shielded your eyes from the sun and noticed that guard trailing nearby, keeping a steady eye on your every move.

When the crowds began to clamor toward the inside of the arena, you realized the games were about to begin. You downed a free sample of wine and found your way to watch from afar. Caracalla and Geta were announced in, and greeted with that same muddled roar of praise and disregard. You watched as Geta ate up the attention. You watched as Caracalla fought against it, spitting and arguing with some poor guard in the box. There was something so volatile in the air, as if one wrong move from either of the emperors would unleash havoc. The public was only one excitable realization away from realizing their joined forces could rip the royals from limb to limb. Geta was quick to shift focus to the games, demanding the publics energy be reserved for the battles that were begun, turning the spotlight away from himself. It was a tactical move, but you worried if he and his brother did not change the course of their political actions soon, no amount of pantomime could save them.

Another few swallows of wine helped ease your nerves, all the while. You'd forgotten how on edge the public had only just seemed. You'd been entranced by Geta's presence even from so many miles away. His distraction's had worked wonders on the crowd, his excitable reactions to the winners and losers kept the arena entertained for the better, for now. He kept you entertained all the while. When he would tear his gaze from the games every once and a while, you liked to imagine he was looking for wherever you might've been.

When you wandered off to find more wine, the guard that had been following you stayed back, glued to the battle that was happening. You returned with two cups, to share. The guard tried to deny your kindness but caved with a smile at your insistence to have at least one drink. It was a day of festivities after all.

"We thought you weren't going to make it!" A voice familiar echoed over your ear. Turning from the view of the battle, you found your friends. You chuckled as you greeted the small brunette, buzzed enough off wine to shrug your nerves away. You couldn't exactly explain how you ended up here, to them. Or how you'd come to dress so finely. But they didn't pester you too much about it, drunk all the same. The girls swarmed you with giggles and hello's and how are you's.

"Change your mind, have you?" The blonde teased, raising her brow at you. But your mind was too slow to understand why.

"This is the gate the royals always leave from. Isn't it obvious?" The small brunette pointed, waving her hand to gesture around. When you glanced up, you noticed a particularly increasing population of young women that had begun to collect around the area. Geta always famously exited from this path, and always famously collected a girl or two to follow him back to the royal hall.

"Oh, no, I just sort of-" You stumbled over words, "ended up on this side." How were you to explain this all away? "I actually... should be going now that it's nearing an end. Get home before sun set." This reason sounded good enough in your head to speak aloud, as you began to walk backward, waving to your friends all the while. You spun on your heels, anxious to get away, making up your mind to head home should that be your only sound escape. But you'd barely walked a dozen paces before that guard was gliding close and halting your leave.

"You're not to go. I'm to see you united with her highness when she passes through that exit."

"Is- is that what she ordered?" You asked meekly, looking up to the roman soldier who loomed over you with his bulky build, yet kind eyes. The man did not speak, but lifted a hand to spin you around by the shoulder, placing a gentle palm there to guide you back where you came from. You saw your friends notice, perplexed gaze's settled on your march as you stepped closer to where they'd stayed waiting.

Caracalla was the first one to storm through the arched entrance, scowling at you on his storm toward his chariot. But then, a spectator, too drunk for his own good, began to slur insults to the emperor. The fellow had barely began cursing Caracalla's name, before the ruler stepped close to grab the man by his throat, strong enough to lift him to the tips of his dirty toes. The citizen struggled to breathe, squirming for relief. Caracalla shouted in the man's face, something about knowing better. The ruler let go, the citizen dropped to the floor in a rattled gasp. When Caracalla demanded the guards that followed him, to slaughter the citizen still choking for breath on the ground, you'd had enough.

"Do not do that. Have you such little mercy?" It wasn't to be helped, the way your body and mind worked together to force out a shout. You should have been more afraid of the way Caracalla turned to fix his fiery gaze on you. But rage at the senseless violence was all you could feel. Yet, the guards were already slashing their swords at the belly of the the citizen, so he might suffer still before passing.

Caracalla stood considering you, longer than you expected. The crowds fell silent, the only noises were the hoarse cries from the dying man. And your heart hammering in place.

Caracalla moved his look from you, to the guard steady at your side, and back to you. His head shook, and a scoff left his throat. He turned to leave, kicking the man he'd murdered on his exit. Your body shook with panic. Your stomach churned at the realization that you'd escaped yet another royal execution.

The crowds parted to let Caracalla pass, steering clear of the angry little man. Your friends seemed to think of walking closer to where the guard had stalled you to wait. But their confounded and horrified expressions morphed into something more wonder filled, as their collective eye unfocused from your position.

You were too busy assessing your friend's questioning gazes to see he'd appeared. But instead, you heard Geta's voice in your ear.

"I'd say you're lucky he spared you. But I think there are more powerful forces than luck working on your side." You heard him say. Your friend's gazes had no doubt been locked on the emperor, but soon fell more perplexed onto you, yet again. And then you realized everyone's eyes had shifted to you. The entire crowd that had watched you speak against the vindictive leader just ahead. The same crow that had pushed closer to wait for a scrap of attention from the man that spoke to only you, now, was casting a collective stupefied glare right at you.

"I'd like to take you away now, but I'll have you wait on my mother. She hasn't stopped bringing up your name since this day has begun." Geta stayed speaking lowly, and you nodded to assure you understood, keeping your nervous gaze cast on the crowd that had fixated their attentions on you. "Do not worry though, tonight we can debrief in more ways than one."

You had to turn and grin at him then, pleased to see he'd waited to share a smirk with you. He was off no sooner though, parting through the crowd with little acknowledgement their way. Your friends kept their slack jawed gazes set on you as you wondered for a beat about saying something to them. But then Julia was sweeping you away, resting her clutch at the bend of your arm like she'd done before.

They watched you leave, just as everyone had. You shot your friends a quick shrug and an expression you hoped they'd understand meant you'd catch them all up later, if ever you could dream up a good enough fib.

Unlike your journey here, Julia asked all about you on your trek back. You gave thoughtful answers, not daring to spare the truth of your meager life to the woman, but hoping the way you spoke of it would endear you to her somehow. It wasn't like you needed to be adored by Julia. But you did long to be respected in some basic human way, by the royal woman.

///

That evening went on strangely. Caracalla locked himself away in the furthest parts of the halls. No one dared speak about him in his absence. No one had dared to allude to his fury or righteousness at all. Instead, the tone of the evening was rather merry. You shared a meal with a mile long table of strangers, glad all the while to have been welcomed in the celebrations of the day. You gabbed with socialites and senators alike, until one by one they headed for home and bed. Try as you might to take your leave, Julia would not let you. She only kept dragging you from guest to guest to introduce. Until you were the last one standing. Until even Julia had made her exit from the room, Geta too. Leaving you to wait in the parlor until further command.

A pair of guards stood unmoving near the doors, as you sat at the head of the dirty table. There were plates and glasses and saucers left awry, covered in crumbs for the kitchen maids to come and handle. There was a steady crackling fire on the opposite end of the room. There was wallpaper that didn't put your senses at ease the way the kind in Geta's room often had.

When the sound of the door opening stirred you from blank thoughts, you shifted to stand. Julia was easing into the room, smile and curls soft as ever. Eye's full of a certain kind of knowing. Behind her, Geta followed. His mother spoke your name, as if to grab your attention, as if she didn't already have it.

"You're not to return home." The woman began, gliding to stall before you. Geta shouldered past her, moving to stand at your side and watching as his mother spoke. "I've noticed you come and go, as I mentioned." Julia went on. "And I've noticed how my son has been less fraught, during the time you've been around. I've heard you speak, and I've seen you command a presence in any room you enter."

"What are you on about? What is this?" Geta demanded, that brooding gaze of his beginning to darken as understanding evaded him.

"As good as she has been for you, son, I'm certain she'll benefit our empire just as well." Julia glanced to Geta before her gaze settled unmovably on yours. Your chest filled with the weight of a realization. Your mind buzzed with wonders of her implications. "You will marry in two days time. Enough to spread the news across the public, and plan something grand."

"Marry?" You breathed, feeling your heart hammer in your stomach.

"You actually don't-" Geta began.

"I actually am watching this empire teeter on the edge of collapse." Julia interrupted Geta, causing his jaw to clench and his brow to darken further than before. "If we do not start moving more intentionally in the direction of change, you and your brother will ruin everything. If you marry this girl, you will marry someone from the very public you've been so often accused of dismissing. This girl is clearly capable of not only earning our family greater public favor. But she would be your bride, and you two together would have a better chance of making sense of this empire than your brother. Caracalla cannot be allowed to overpower your rule, Geta. Do you realize how close that idea is to becoming our reality?" Julia was insistent. "You do not have a choice. This has to happen. For all our fates." She was looking right at you again.

You were shaken, stunned, totally unprepared. Just days ago you were living such a carefree reality, all you knew were paints and pleasure by way of the emperor's hands. But now all of a sudden, all of Rome's fate depended on if you stayed standing here or made a break to sprint for the door.

"Get out." Geta pointed, coldly dismissing his mother. She began to argue back, pleading his name to listen. "Get out! I command it!" Geta was fuming, rage becoming his entire essence. You couldn't help but screw your eyes shut at the boom of his voice. You heard a guard approach to see the royal mother out of the door. She went without a fight, but insisted Geta had no choice, insisting she was already making plans to assure this fate for the both of you. As one guard saw her out of the room, the other followed, leaving you and Geta alone in the room with the ugly wallpaper.

The fire stayed crackling in the corner. The table stayed dirty. Geta began to pace, like he did, hands on his hips, head shaking in an effort to make sense of things.

"You are quiet." He spoke up, softer than he had spoken all night.

"I am choiceless." You warbled. Hadn't this already happened to you? Hadn't you already been forced to wed a man for the betterment of some kind of future? You thought you'd already paid your dues. You thought freedom was supposed to be promised at some point. You thought you'd had it, just days ago. But even still you were captured by the powers that be. It wasn't like you were opposed to being Geta's bride. But you were rocked to realize it didn't matter what you wanted, in this life. It was just going to keep happening to you, against you, despite you.

You watched as Geta sped up his pace, thinking. His eyes danced as if to keep up with an invisible coming together idea. And then his moving stalled. He rolled his shoulders and let his eyes rake up your figure, like they so often did. Geta's brown stare bore into yours, as if to search for an answer to a question not yet asked.

"You claim to have been born to die." Geta gestured, sauntering closer. "I claim to have been born to rule. But we have failed to consider what there could be to live for. I have reason to believe my answer to living lies within you." His speech was imploring. He meant it. He only ever spoke with authority, by that you weren't surprised. But by his meaning, by the tenderness in it, you were. "As ruler, I shall make the final decision regarding my mother's demands. But... I shall also wait here in silence as you choose your fate. I will command no guard after you should you flee. This time, this wedding, you'll be allowed to choose."

"Should I flee, will there be fines? Will I forever be in your debt somehow?"

"I shall see to it that you owe nothing to this empire if you leave it. But you must leave it entirely, you must go far from here. It's the only way I could make these guarantees."

"Should I stay..."

Geta loomed closer, until his breath fanned across your face. So close you could see the golds speckled across the brown of his eyes. Close enough to kiss.

"I would see to your value." Geta breathed, stalling an inch before you. "Your profile on coins. Your voice heard above others. Your throne... My bed... I'd see to it."

Your heart hadn't stopped pounding since this conversation spun to life. But it beat harder yet, at Geta's tone and implication now.

"Take my hand." Geta held an open face palm before you. "Or turn away." You glanced to the door.

You considered all that lie beyond it, the quiet, the vastness. The race to the finish line of life would be slow and steady outside these doors. Your freedom would be quiet and lonely. Then you turned to Geta and saw a different kind of future to consider. And then a thought dawned on you. What if the freedom you'd always been in search of, was not just yours alone? What if an entire empires fate had always been pressed into the back of your heart, clear in the front of your mind only now that you understood everything Julia had said. You thought of your latest painting. The one with the sheep and the sunset. You wondered if maybe it was a sunrise all along.

Your hand flexed, knuckles deciding between clenching and raising up. Until suddenly your palm was in Getas. Until suddenly your fate, and all of Rome's, had been sealed.

///

Part 2 Coming Soon...

#joseph quinn #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #emperor geta #emperor geta fanfic #geta x reader #gladiator 2 #joseph quinn x reader #fem!reader #joe quinn smut #minors dni

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yaut-jaknowit · 8 months ago

Note

Omg ♡

Human accidentally saving a Yautja? The human is oblivious to the fact that they saved him?

Could be spicy. it could be sweet, just a thought bouncing around in the head.

A Total Smash

Pairings: Dai'stbaen (Male Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 6410 (thirteen pages... THIRTEEN PAGES)

Summary: The mountains are your home. Deep in winter, you head into town to get your necessary supplies to survive for two weeks. A rumor roams throughout the small town. You are put on edge. Upon the trip back up to your home, far from civilization, you had no time to react.

Author Note: Okay, okay, bear with me. It's been a hot moment since I last posted. I've got four in total in the vault to post. I wanted to catch up a little since my new job has been time consuming. I did warn you guys my writing may slow down unfortunately, but I'm fighting through it! Also, I'm so sorry but I wasn't able to get to the smut part. If you shot me a dm or another ask, I'm more than happy to continue. I'll even shoot it to the top of my list for you!

Masterlist

Ao3

Part 2

Deep in the mountains, where cell service was spotty at best, nestled your warm, comfortable home. It housed you and two dogs. There was nothing more than needed for this relaxing life you live. With internet at the house, you can work remotely for your job. Never required to come in and barely show your face.

Both dogs, Kodiak and Vivian, were curled up happily on the couches. Each dog getting their own seat to themselves. You huffed with a soft smile at the sight before grabbing your keys. “Okay, babies, I’ll be back. Be good for me!” you called out to them. Only Vivian raised her head. Besides that, neither made an effort to say goodbye to you.

With that, you went out the front door. A bitter cold instantly rained down on you. It tried to bite through your jacket to steal away your warm. The jacket held strong while you hustled towards your auto-started truck. A necessity if living this far from town and in the dead of winter. A little Nissan wasn’t going to get you even down your driveway in this kind of weather.

Inside the vehicle, it was wonderfully warm and toasty. The heat blasted while the butt warmers worked their magic. I put the key into the ignition then carefully crawled down the driveway.

The trip to the store was uneventful. Just the same people you see every two weeks when you make the adventure down to town. Everyone knows everyone. They know who you are and know this is the day you come in. Usually, you get the same thing every time. Once in a blue moon, you’ll find something of interest and place that into your cart as well.

Today was no different than any other. You grabbed the necessary items and piled your cart up. Items that would last the two weeks away from civilization. That included fresh fruits and vegetables. Those would be stretching it to last that long. Yet, they were part of your diet. You made due.

Susan, a young woman, brightened up at the sight of you. The gloomy teenager was the daughter of the owner. Her mother made her work here. Something she complained about often. You could agree with her. She may seem rude on the outside but once you break past that shell, she was a dear to chat with.

The two of you caught up on intel about what’s been happening around the town. Mainly, Susan chatted your ear off. Apparently, Rick, a well known hunter, had gone missing. It was like he up and vanished from thin air. You may not know the man well but you’ve allowed him to stay at your home while he went up further into the mountains to hunt.

Then, Susan began to rave about a new guy that just moved into town. She instantly called dibs on him and pointed an accusing finger at you. “Dibs! He’s mine. Don’t even think about it,” she playfully scolded and continued to scan more of the items you were buying.

A laugh bubbled in your chest. Both of your hands were raised at the sides of your head, in surrender. “Okay, okay. I got the message. He’s all yours.” Not that you think this man was old enough for you to dabble with. You weren’t interested anyhow. No one in town… really riled you up. Which explains your dry spell.

She narrowed her eyes at you for a moment before relaxing. “Good. I’ve been trying to get his number the moment I’ve heard he moved in,” she told you, shoulders sagging.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” The words may seem apologetic, but Susan knew better. There was sarcasm hidden between them.

Instead of her finger, she threatened you with a log of ground beef you were going to use for burgers or tacos. “Oh hush, miss ‘lonely on top of my mountain’. I don’t know how you do it. Only having those two dogs as company. Seems so lonely and cruel to yourself.” Susan shook her head, letting her blonde hair sway side to side.

You chuckled with a grin and leaned on the counter. “I’m a loner. It’s not a bad life. Bills paid. The forest as my backyard. The birds and squirrels greeting me in the morning. With a small river to dip my feet in every day. It’s peaceful and relaxing. You should try it,” you offered with a teasing glint in your eyes.

“With Rick missing, I wouldn’t step foot out there. Who knows what took him. What if it’s like a Green River killer situation happening? You could be next. You would be a perfect opportunity.” The last of the items were scanned. You put your card into the reader. “All alone. You only come down into town every two weeks. No cell service. If you were killed, we wouldn’t know until the next time you were suppose to come in.”

With all of that laid down in front of you, the realization of the situation with Rick hit you. Yes, you could next. But, for someone to find your property that far into the mountains, they would need to specifically hunt you down.

“Susan, I’m fine. I got a gun, my dogs, and a lot of courage. Why else would I like so far from civilization? I knew the risks. I’m willing to take it.” You pulled the card out of the reader and slipped it back into your wallet. “Plus, Kodiak and Vivian would alert me if someone was near. They’re good guard dogs.” Well, not Vivi. Kodiak, was though.

The teenager reached across the counter to grasp your hand. “I still worry. You’re… one of my few friends that I feel close to. Please, don’t let you go missing too,” she pleaded with a hurt look etched into her features. You placed your other hand on top of hers and patted it.

“I won’t. You know me. I fight like hell,” you reassured her. Susan looked at you for a few more moments before taking back her hand. The two of you said your goodbyes before you left the store with a full cart.

On the drive back home, your thoughts were slightly scrambled from the fact there was Rick was missing. He knew the forest like the back of his hand. Any of the kids in town who wanted to learn to hunt went to him. He was an excellent hunter. One of the bests out there. But now… he was MIA. That thought churned your stomach.

Whilst in the deep end of your thoughts, your truck came around a corner. The snow on the road wasn’t terrible. A current flurry fell to cover the ground. It only made the sight difficult to see in front of you. Yet, you knew this roads like the back of your hand.

The added weight in the back of your reliable truck aided you well. You happily kept trucking your way along and popping to the sounds of your music.

Before it registered in your mind, something smashed into the grill guard on the front of your truck. Whatever it was went flying and disappeared through the flakes that filled the air. You gasped and stupidly stomped on the brakes. What little road there was present caught your tires and thankfully stopped you rapidly.

You were out of the vehicle before you knew it and rushing towards whatever you had hit. The snow was slick under your feet and took you into the embankment. Your feet were no longer underneath you. A short yell escaped you. You found yourself sunk into two feet of snow. When you get home, it seems like you’ll be stripping. The last thing you wanted was to get sick.

As you slowly rose to your feet, one of your hands landed on something that didn’t feel like it should be. Warmth greeted your palm. In this weather? It’s below freezing.

A confused expression pinched at your features. With a caution that guided your moves, you began to brush away the snow you must have pushed onto whatever this is.

One brush revealed something dark under the snow. The light of the day showed the surface to be… scaly? That’s the best word you could come up with. You peered down to see a fishnet like material that covered the scales. All you could think of was a stripper. Did you hit a… stripper? What the hell was a stripper doing this far from town? Why?

Despite it being imposable, the figure was warm. Pleasantly warm to the touch. You uncovered more and more until you come to release this was a human? Sort of. It had a humanoid form but wore a mask of metal. It covered the lower portion of its face to show off two deep eyes which were closed.

Whoever this was, wasn’t normal. The head shape was what screamed at you. Then, the strange rubbery like dreads that sprouted from underneath its dome shape head. Whiskers that looked to be made of the same material as its hair created eyebrows that crawled up the edges of its head.

Was this the thing you hit?! Your hand wrapped around its wrist, only to find that your fingers couldn’t even encircle it. There was at least two inches of space. But, you turned its wrist so the underside pointed skyward. Two fingers were placed on where a pulse point would be on human.

The warmth the form produced was amazing. The snow was melting when it fell on its exposed body. You almost wished to snuggle against it and savor its heat. Instead, you felt like behind your fingertips with relief. Now, what were you going to do with it?

For a moment, you glanced at your truck and knew the tonneau cover on the bed of your truck would be protective. There was not a chance in a million years that you could lift its hulking form and seat in it. The bed of your truck would be the easiest to get it into your truck. You didn’t know what it was. That was the scary part. But, you felt awful for smashing into it. The poor thing unconscious and lying in a ditch.

Your bottom lip was gnawed on.

With whatever strength you had, the humanoid figure found its way partial draped over your shoulders and back. Both of its muscular arms were thrown over your shoulder to help keep it up. You carefully dragged the unknown creature up the embankment and over to your truck.

Its head was next to your ear. Soft snores escaped its hidden mouth. The corner of your mouth curls up in a softly smirk. The sound was adorable for something so big. You didn’t except it make such a noise.

Your legs quivered with the strain of holding the creature up and reaching for your tailgate. The door eased down and offered you the needed space. A grunt surged past your lips. You tossed his upper portion onto the tailgate. The back end of your truck lowered with the added weight. Then, you bent down to grab its lower legs.

The strength it took to get the rest of it inside nearly made a vein pop in your forehead. You panted and leaned against your truck, head tilted back. The biting cold and falling snowflakes made your nose cold. You pushed the rest of it far enough before closing the gate with a slam. One more glance around provided no results. Just the empty forest that surrounded you.

You got back into your truck with a shuttering breath. Heat blasted in your face and unfroze the skin. It felt wonderful compared to the cold that clawed desperately to suck away your warmth. But, the metal of the vehicle protected you. You put it into drive and continued the drive back home to your dogs.

On the way back, all you could think of was the creature. What was it? And why was it out here of all places? This was the middle nowhere. There was no cell service. Nothing out here. Just the way you like it. Yet, here was this monstrous, towering beast that didn’t look human. Here you are, taking it home… to do what? Take care of it? To nurture it back to health? Well, you did hit him with your truck. That, you felt bad about.

White blanketed the entire front area of your driveway. The snow still coming down heavily at this point. You stepped out. The bitter cold returning to steal your heat. You trudged to the front door and unlocked before returning to the tailgate of your truck. It took little effort to pull it open and reveal the still unconscious body. You didn’t know what you would’ve done if it was awake. That was the last thing you wanted to deal with right now.

From the front door to your current position, it was about fifteen feet. The front porch was protected by the overhang. You gathered your strength and nerves before dragging the form closer to you. The truck continued shake at the weight of the creature. This was going to be difficult. You lugged the chest of it onto your back while slinging it’s arms over your shoulders. Not even the full weight was upon you and you felt like it was about to crush you. The adrenaline from before had worn off during the drive.

The muscles of your thighs trembled as you strained to get it out. You guess this was your sign to work out from more. It took a lot of finesse to lug the form out so it could be draped haphazardly over the top of you. One step after another, you worked your way to the front door and kicked it open. Both dogs charged out the front door to greet you. They raced up to the two of you and heavily sniffed at the legs of the creature.

“Guys! Stop! It’s difficult enough to carry this thing without either of you trying to drag it down,” you scold the two with a stern voice. Both of them eased up on their excitement but continued to take in its scent. You sighed and finally entered your home after such a long day.

The creature flopped down onto your couch the best you could with it’s size. It was massive, not even fitting on your full length couch. You wiped your forehead with the back of your hand in a humorous manner before marching out the front door again. From there, you hauled in the days work you had gone out to retrieve.

Once everything was inside the house, the door was closed and animates corralled back inside. All the food and supplies you got were swiftly put away before you got out the first aid. You didn’t know what you could do for it without any medical knowledge. It was let bleeding by the looks of it. You knelt besides it on the couch and noticed what looked to be bruising and swelling all along its right side. The grill guard. Your fingers gingerly ran along the blazing scales.

This was all your fault.

With the limited knowledge to care for serious injuries, you grabbed an ice pack from deep within your freezer. Kodiak and Vivian came over to investigate why you weren’t giving them attention. Kodiak, the bigger of the two, had his hackles raised and stood rigid a few feet away from the two of you. On the other hand, Vivian nudged her short, boxer nose into the creatures very human-like hand. The main difference was the scales and long black claws that tipped each finger. You shuttered and placed the cloth wrapped ice packs on the swelling.

Wheezing sounded with each inhale and exhale. The noise worried you. It wasn’t like you could take it doctor though. One look at this thing would have the FBI and CIA on your ass the second afterwards.

Despite it looking dangerous, the last thing you wanted was to put it through more harm. You already hit it with your truck and sent it flying like a reindeer through the air. The evidence was blooming on its two-tones scales. A mix of burgundy and tan. The red turning dark in some areas.

Upon closer inspection, skin was spilt on its forehead. Red blood did not flood from the cut. But a neon green that glowed despite the light in your living room. You did the best you could to tend to the mediocre cut. It wasn’t like it needed to be worried over. You fulfilled your duties then stepped away to prepare for dinner. There wasn’t much else you could do for it.

Now, it was up to fate if it is to wake up.

Amidst the preparation of dinner, your dogs whined and begged for their own. A glance at the clock told you it was past their dinner time. You were swift to make up a healthy concoction of raw meat, eggs, and a couple of vitamins to sprinkle on top. Their bowls were set in their respected spots. Each dog was given their command to eat.

Satisfied with that, you happily returned to making yourself food for the night. Every once in a while, you would glance over at the limp body still blanketing your couch. You still couldn’t believe how massive it was. If it were to stand, it would easily tower over you. You were thankful it hadn’t woken up though. You didn’t know what you would do when it would possibly wake up.

Water boiled in an otherwise empty pot. You side stepped to reach for the box of pasta. At the same time, you peered over your shoulder for a fleeting moment. The couch was empty. The box became your focus. You opened it up before pausing.

The couch was empty.

Heat flooded your backside.

A scream left your lips. Your body reacted before your mind fully comprehend the situation. You spun around and chucked the box of open pasta at the wall of muscles that stood directly behind you. It bounced off and scattered loose noodles all over the ground.

The wall didn’t move. Another scream left your lips. You scrambled to get towards the bat next to your door. Kodiak was the first to react and come bounding into the kitchen at full speed. A deep rumbling growl filled the air. Angry barks echoed off of the walls.

The cold metal of the bat met your palm. You whipped around and wielded your new weapon in the face of your intruder. Only to pause at the sight of the towering figure in your kitchen. Despite the lower portion of its face covered, its eyes clearly showed the confusion inside of them. It glanced down at the spilled pasta then at you. You gulped and kept the bat in front of you. God, it looked like it could take this thing away from you and bend it into a pretzel.

When it made no move towards as the tense seconds passed by, you timidly lowered the bat. Your tongue darted out to wet your dry lips. “You’re… awake,” you stated the obvious. But, you didn’t know what to say. Could it even understand you?

Intelligence shone in its bright, yellow eyes.

Nothing human-like.

It took a moment to take in its surroundings and ignored the snarling, slobbering dog in front of him. Its form was lax. You didn’t know if that should scare you or not.

“Kodiak!” you recalled the protective, black mut to you. His growls died down. His eyes didn’t leave the towering form the creature. He expertly walked over to you and stood in front of you. His body acting like a wall.

Vivian roamed into the kitchen, nose towards the ground. The boxer mutt sniffed at the fallen pasta until she came upon the creature. Her tongue lolled out while she tilted her head up. Her tail began to wag.

The two of them are polar opposites.

Fear gripped your heart. It knelt down and started to stroke her head. You didn’t miss the way it winced at the move. Guilt flooded you. It was your fault it was in this situation. Injured. The least you could do was offer a roof over its head and a full belly. Hopefully, that would save you from any transgressions. The last thing you wanted to do was piss it off. Those arms could tear your head straight from your body.

Bright yellow eyes returned to your timid form. In the eyes of a predator. Your heartrate began to pick up. You swallowed hard. “How, how are you feeling?” Thoughts were racing in your mind. Maybe, you could offer it some painkillers to ease off the agony of what looked to be broken ribs. They were at least bruised and could even be cracked. If they were broken, you wouldn’t forgive yourself. It was hard enough with the knowledge you had hit it.

A shuttering breath escaped your quivering lungs. It stared at you. All while petting Vivian. She just sat there, happy as a clam. Her tail wagging away in delight. Kodiak didn’t leave you despite his adoptive sister getting attention.

Then, it stood up. You felt yourself shrink. It was evident that this thing could move without you noticing. It shouldn’t be possible with its size and mass. None of the floorboards had creaked when it originally snuck up behind you.

While it looked at you, it felt wrong to return its gaze. As if you were poking the bear. You were making the situation worse than it already is. How could it get worse than this?!

Your front door shattering. Wood went flying at each of your feet’s. You yelled out and covered your head. The bat still gripped tightly in a death grip. A white blur zipped in front of you.

The form ignored you to wrap a hand around the creature and lifted him off of the ground. Kodiak went wild and charged without a care of his own safety. You screamed at him but he was in his own mind. To protect you.

Vivian yelped and scampered the best she could on the hard wood away from the scene. She was the smarter of the two.

Before stood a nearly ghost white humanoid form. Similar to the creature you had saved from the snow. Yet, its dreads were pure white. Devoid of any melatonin. You gasped. It had a death grip around the red creature’s throat and lifted it off of the ground. A pained grunt left its throat while it scrambled to get out of the hold.

Like son, like parent. You charged forward with the bat and smashed the metal end against the back of its white head. Ghost dropped Red with a pained grunt. Not a second was wasted. You continued to beat down on its nogging like your life depended on it. A guttural cry left your lips as you relentlessly bashed the metal bat.

A white slightly lime green hand whipped out and snatched the bat straight from your hands. Now, you were defenseless in the face of this monster.

Teeth latched onto its calf and dug in. Neon green blood sprayed out and soaked into Kodiak’s maw. You took the chance to back away.

A hulking body launched through the air and drug Ghost down. Fist flew. The harsh sounds of skin meeting skin in a vicious beat down filled the air. You stood there, arms slightly raised, as if you froze in the process of fleeing. All you do was watch as Red continued to introduce his knuckles to the metal of Ghost’s face.

The strength behind each punch caused the metal cave before giving. Neon green blood coated his red fists and coated them to the point it was flung everywhere. Its warmth dotted your clothing and face. But, you didn’t even flinch at the feeling.

Once Ghost had stopped moving, the punches halted. A scary calm entered the air. Red’s chest heaved with breaths but the mouth mask quieted the noise. You swallowed and pushed down the ringing in your ears. Its head whipped towards you with a rumbling snarl that nearly sent Kodiak off again. But, the lanky mutt came up to you to stand guard once in front of you.

Red realized it was you and silenced the sound immediately. Your hand carded through Kodiak’s fur to help quell the racing in your chest. The creature let his head tilt back a deep groan. Its dark dreads swayed at the move. The metal décor clinking against one another.

Your hand touched at your chest. The adrenaline in your system fading with each beat of your heart. The heat of the moment finally over. But, the fact you had nearly been slaughtered was a neon sign right in front of you. Your eyes finally focused on Red who was still straddling the dead body; of whatever they were.

In what felt like less than a minute, the situation had returned to normal. As the powerful drug left your veins, the biting cold that slithered into your expose home caused a chill down your back. You shivered and hugged at yourself.

The front door. It was nearly gone. Only bits and pieces hung on to the hinges. All the heat that was once inside the cozy home was gone. In came a cold you didn’t know how to battle.

A whimper left your lips.

A wall of muscle stood in front of you. Red’s hulking frame stood like a redwood tree over you. The first instinct was to shrink away. To flee. Pretty much. Your feet were rooted to the ground, unable to gather the strength and courage to run. To be a coward in the face of danger.

Kodiak no longer growled but his hackles were raised high. His dark brown eyes watched the unknown figure closely.

Heat rolled down in comforting waves off its body. It almost made you want to press yourself against it. You refrained from that embarrassing idea and glanced back over towards the destroyed door. “My door,” you pouted, sorrowfully and hugged yourself tighter. You had to think of something quick to keep the house a decent temperature.

Before you had a chance to get a plan in place, Red was already on the move. His body gracefully into the living room. You watched as blankets were gathered in those thick arms of his. He carried them over to the door.

As the best he could, he draped the blankets in layers. With the metal gauntlet on its arm, it punctured something into the wall multiple times. Each blanket was secured into place. It helped keep the majority of the cold out of your home.

His form stilled after he had blocked off your door. You took a breath of relief. The house was still drastically colder from the exposed elements. What he did though will help with preventing a quick exchange of temperature. You opened your mouth to speak your relief to him when the creature turned around to finally face you.

There was an air around him that made you slightly nervous. It made you off putted. With the dead body of someone like him on your floor, you had all rights to be. A life he took with his very own fists, and showed no mercy.

Yet, Ghost had come in here. A monster on a mission for the creature standing in front of you.

That left you with one major question: “What the hell happened?” you asked in a firm voice. Your heart thumped powerfully behind your breastbone. The adrenaline leaving your system and making you tired. The last thing you wanted was to pass out or grow dazed in front of him. Not when he showed what he could do without a weapon.

Red’s bright, blazing eyes were set on you. He strode across the living room to enter your space. The heat his body radiated rolled off onto you again. It made you strive to curl up against him. But, you stayed rooted in your spot and looked up at his towering frame. You were scared. At the same time, you held your own in the face of danger. A watchful, careful eye was set on him.

Your body was wracked with a shutter.

“You are cold,” he spot in a voice that barely uttered the words. It was almost like it wasn’t natural to him. His tongue and mouth wasn’t meant to form such words. Your eyes flickered wider before narrowing on him.

Both of your hands rested on your hips. “Well, no shit sherlock. It’s freezing outside and your friend here busted down my door,” you snarked at him. The cold making you a bitter human being.

All you could read on his face was his eyes. One of his brows simply raised at your words. “He was no friend.” Welp, he didn’t understand the sarcasm in your voice.

A sigh left your lips while you shook your head. The temperature was still far below a comfortable range. You recrossed your arms firmly to contain your own body heat. “Still doesn’t excuse the behavior for the fact my front door is gone.” It would take you some time before you could go back into town and get yourself a new door. You had work tomorrow. It was dangerous to be out after dark. There was no time between now and tomorrow.

You rubbed at the exposed skin on your arms with another shutter. The creature’s eyes flickered down to watch the move. He moved in. You opened your mouth to demand what he was doing then his arms wrapped around you. The warmth you’ve been craved soaked into your skin. A deep hum escaped you while you sunk against him.

“Why are you so warm?” you mumbled against the scales he had you pressed to. Your arms twitched, desperate to reach out and wrap them around him. Yet, you held back to keep some sort of composure in front of a beast you didn’t know.

Against your cheek, you could feel the bumps from his injured ribs. That brought you back to the present. You pulled away from him to put some distance between the two of you. “How are your ribs?” you asked in a timid voice. Now, you became hesitant to look him in the eye. That was embarrassing to be nearly drooling at the heat he produced. He should be your concern. You had been the one to hit him with your truck. He’s wounded too.

His hand drifted up to said area. Rough pads grazed along the swollen spot on his left side. You winced. It looked worse than before. The fighting must have agitated them more.

A shrug came from him. “They are… fine,” he struggled to find the last word at first.

In all honesty, you weren’t convinced but had to take his word for it. You glanced down at the body then back at him. The front door was unusable. There was the back door.

God, you didn’t want to deal with this now. Worse of all, you lost your appetite. You jolted then rushed over into the kitchen.

Water boiled over the edge of the pot and created a dangerous mess. You instantly turned off the heat and leaned on the counter. You weren’t going to say it but this day had turned worse. Sometimes, it was best to keep your trap shut. That, you learned the hard way.

Pained grunts sounded behind you. You peered over your shoulder at the sight of Red picking up Ghost’s body. He tossed it onto his shoulders, fireman style, with little issues. Your jaw dropped at the sight. Red glanced at you for a fleeting moment before walking towards the only other door in your home. You watched as he stepped out into the snow and darkness.

Despite no light, the snow reflect any and all light. Red walked and walked upon he was barely visible. The body slid off of his shoulders and was quickly swallowed up by the feet of snow that blanketed the area.

No one would find the body. Not this far out. Who would be looking for it in the first place? Clearly, they weren’t from here. They were… from somewhere else.

Red came trudging back into the house and closed the door behind him.

Before a silence could engulf the two of you, you took a breath in. “I don’t know if you know… but I had hit you with my truck. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t even know someone would be out there. No one should be. But here we are. Um, and in return, you are more than welcome to stay here as long as you want. My apologies for hitting you and such,” you stated to him and pushed off of the counter to stand up to your full height.

“There’s not much here. The other two bedrooms are taken. One for the dogs. The other for storage. Not like they had a bed in either of them. Y-you can stay in my room though. It’s big. It’s better than the couch.” God, you kept rambling on and on.

He chuffed. “It will grow cold out here. A ooman such as yourself wouldn’t battle the weather and win.” Your timid status nearly turned at his words. You wanted to smack him for the comment but refrained from doing so. Your head tilted at the use of ‘ooman’. It almost sounded like… human. Could he no say the word?

“What are you suggesting then?” you asked, unsure what he was trying to say.

“We sleep together.” The color drained from your face. Heat blazed to a burning fire all over your face. “We use each other’s body heat. Mostly, keeping you from freezing and dying on me.” He stepped close enough you saw the dimensions of his eyes. “You don’t realize it, but you not only saved me once but twice.”

Confusion took over your features.

“In the forest, on the road. I was fighting against the bad blood. You had came along in your vehicle and hit him. Then, just now.” Wait… you had hit both of them?! Your face morphed into horror. “As much as it pains me to admit to such a thing, you had saved my life twice. As per my honor code that I am bound to, I am in debt. I shall not let harm come to you.”

“Hold up! Hold up. Let me get this straight. I hit both of you.” You began to count off on your fingers with each point. “I somehow saved your life then. I drag you here. I save you again from… a bad blood? My god. What in the hell are you?!” You had both of your hands pointed at him. Your body very animate with your words.

“A Yautja. My name is Dai’stbaen. I am an enforcer,” he explains and forfeits information to you. You clutched at your forehead. “I hunt down bad bloods. Rouges of my kind and kill them.” You had to lean back against the counter again to keep yourself upright. All of this information was flying far too fast at you.

Then… it struck you. “You’re an alien.” It was more of a statement than a question. He wasn’t from earth. Aliens were real. Oh god. You felt lightheaded, on the verge of passing out from all of this hitting you straight in the face. A keen left your throat.

Dai…st’baen dipped his massive dome head. Your gaze was pinned to the floor but you weren’t looking at anything. You were trapped inside of the flying thoughts that turned into a hurricane.

Clearly, there was no sanity left inside of you. Not at this rate.

“Okay then.” After what felt like hours, you finally came to a conclusion. In the moment, you had to just roll with it. Adapt. Survive. A life you knew far too much about while living in the middle of nowhere. You met his eyes. “Well… um, this has been an eventful day. But, I think it’s time to turn it if you don’t mind. I need… to sleep on all of this.” Maybe some sleep could help you think clearer tomorrow.

The burgundy figure looked at you, eyes studying your figure for long moment. You took the moment to step around him and head towards your bedroom. “Come along, I’ll show you.”

Despite not hearing any pitter patter of feet, you felt his huge presence behind you. Like a shadow. You showed him into your room. It wasn’t much. But it was your space that you enjoyed. Yet, here you were, about to share it with someone else. Someone not even your own species.

One of your hands motioned towards the bed. “There’s the bed. I’ll go and grab some more blankets for you. It’ll… be really cold.” The sun was gone far below the horizon. There was no heat to share from the outdoors. It was all on the two of you to survive.

His bright eyes watched as you scurry into the hallway. Though, you wanted to be away from the scrutiny of his powerful gaze, you were swift to get armfuls of blankets. The night won’t be forgiving. Heat was essential to staying alive in a place like this. You didn’t know if he understood that or not. It wasn’t like he needed to be wrapped up in twenty blankets. He was a furnace himself.

All the blankets were tossed onto the bed into a pile. Then, you turned towards him. “I… uh, hope this is fine. It’ll be too cold out in the living room for me.” You really hoped he didn’t kick you out of your room. Not when the temperature could slowly drain you of your warmth.

Dai’stbaen merely shrugged before climbing onto the bed gingerly. You followed suit and wrapped yourself up in the blankets. Though this was your bed, you laid there straight as a rod and stared up at the ceiling.

This was going to be a long night.

#yautja #predator #yautja x reader #alien vs predator #yautja x you #yautja x human #predator x reader #predator x you #predator x human #x reader #Dai'stbaen

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dcxdpdabbles · 1 month ago

Note

I don't know if you were planning on making any more but One Hell of a Good Bellhop is such a good fic and I would love to see more of it

(also I've been reading through your masterlist of posts so sorry for sending you so many notifs from liking them all) ❤️❤️

Charles smiles at the couple, eagerly looking through the clothes Danny had in the old employee lounge. Since they didn't have any more employees, the boy made the suggestion of setting up a gift shop, creating miniature nicknacks from the different eras he transformed the hotel into.

He sold costumes similar to whatever era he wanted the theme to be—this month, it was the Golden Age of Piracy, complete with a treasure hidden somewhere in the hotel for anyone to find—and the pirate costume could make a Hollywood costume designer weep with joy.

Charles didn't understand Danny's meta powers—not that he needed to. He figured he didn't need to. He just accepted that the boy could influence the hotel as if it were one of those video game home designs kids played.

He went to bed one night with the hotel Sally had adored so much falling apart, only to wake to it being in perfect condition, just like his memories. To find rooms set up with furniture and decoration that screamed wealthy—well, it just made his heart warm.

Especially when young people started wandering in, lured by Jazz and Danny walking the streets with flyers. It's been a long time since he saw the look of wonder in his guests' eyes as they took in his beloved hotel.

Danny seemed to really enjoy taking over the hotel. He somehow got the housing, the cooking, and the maintenance taken care of. He was always out of sight, but it let Charles sit at the front desk, resting his feet and watching life be breathed back into the hotel.

If Sally were alive, she would be sitting right next to him and cooing at the young couple holding up clothes against each other, faces flushed with love, as they try to select an outfit.

Despite being males, their excitement reminded him of his younger days when Sally and he would go on trips together whenever they stumbled across a bookshop.

His girl loved reading, while Charles had always fancied custom-made journals. Watching young people fall in love filled his heart with nostalgia; he was lonely.

Eventually, the couple finds what they like to wear for the pirate treasure hunt event and approaches the cash register, where Danny mysteriously appears. His young tenant was dressed in a black trench coat and skulled hat, looking like an authentic Black Beard pirate.

Charles has been watching the whole time, and despite it looking like he merely rounded the door behind the wall leading into the gift shop storage, Danny has literally blinked into existence.

Not that the two young men knew that. They merely paid for their outfits and what looked like a ship in a bottle. As soon as the payment was complete, Danny rounded the same wall and vanished. Charles turned his head to find Danny by the main entrance, holding the door open for a woman with a beaming smile.

He was now dressed to appear like a Cabin boy as he carefully led the new group to Charles for check-in. He didn't wait to hear the room number the group would be staying in before placing their luggage on a cart and vanishing down the hallway.

The woman and man with the three children looked alarmed, but Charles calmed them down by assuring them that their luggage would be waiting for them as soon as they were in their rooms. As he was finished adding them to the system, Danny reappeared to offer the startled couple a warm meal and hot chocolate for the kids.

Jazz, the sweetheart, taught Charles how to use the latest technology. She even modified the code to make the systems more user-friendly.

Charles was touched that she didn't fight his assistance to keep using a guest log book, even with their booking system, and went out of her way to find journals that fit Danny's chosen theme for the month. The kids seemed especially excited to write on parchment with quills afterward, as the adults were charmed by Danny's excellent cooking skills.

He was also in another outfit, this one looking more like a regular pirate member, though with a more green theme than the black of before.

"Are they triplets?" Mrs. Oblie asks as Danny fades from sight, only to appear at the gift shop, helping someone buy a signed treasure chest. He's back in a Black Beard outfit. "The three seem like hard workers."

Charles smiles. "It's the same person. Danny is a very hard worker."

"What?" Mr. Oblie gasps, twisting to stare at Danny and the direction in which Danny had taken their luggage. "How did he change clothes so quickly?"

"He was in the circus," Charles replies with a laugh. "He is used to quick changes. Plus, there are a lot of hidden passages way here."

He says the last bit like it's a big secret, winking at the children- one seems to be ten, the other seven- watching excitement bloom on their faces as they start looking around, attempting to spot the non-existent secret passages. The explanation isn't enough for Mrs. Oblie, but she doesn't argue further as she ushers her family into their room.

They will be down in a few hours so their kids can run around the hotel searching for a treasure. Mr. Oblie admitted over the phone that they hadn't had enough money for a vacation like he originally promised his eldest for her birthday, so this kid-friendly event was a lifesaver. Danny had claimed that it wasn't a lie- apparently, he can hear lies within the hotel, including the landline?- and had chosen to let the Oblie find some treasure even if they didn't win the main pot.

Charles wonders what face Mr.Oblie will make when his daughter finds the real diamond tiara that Danny set aside for her. Where on earth did the boy find something like that?

Charles didn't know and figured it was another part of Danny's meta abilities.

He turns towards the door, smiling as Jazz struts in. Her pantsuit is perfectly tailored, and her red hair falls gracefully behind her back. A few of the mingling guests are star-studded as she strides, her heels clicking on the ground like a bell.

If Danny was the ultimate bellhop who popped in and out of sight, Jazz was the hotel manager who commanded respect and awe. She was here for lunch, always arriving around one o'clock on the dot and the regulars who picked up on that fact always came down to get a glimpse of her.

Jazz and Danny were attractive siblings, but it wasn't mere looks that grabbed people's attention. They felt overwhelmingly alluring, like visiting Fae or a fallen star, as if somehow human but only just about.

Charles often wondered why someone like her was working as an assistant/secretary for an insurance company. She was far more capable than an entire management team.

She set up all their administration details. Charles had no idea how she could organize all their bills, supplies, advertisements, investments, and anything else he could think of for a business while booking appointments and filing claims for an entirely different company. To Charles, it was never about the money, but they were making a large amount now that the Fenotn children took over, and he offered her a position with better pay multiple times.

Jazz waved it away, saying she needed another job for her brother. He does suspect that she only stayed at Gotham Todd Insurance because of the young owner, whom her eyes tracked whenever Mr. Jason Todd walked through the building.

But Charles kept that theory to himself.

A soft clatter sounds from his elbow. Charles looks down to find a steaming plate of food, obviously done by Danny. He smiled at it, holding it up to Jazz as she neared. "Hi, sweetie; how's work going?"

"Hi, Grandpop," She beams, leaning over to hug him and gently kiss his cheek in greeting. "It's been a boring day. I finished this week's work in a few hours and just spent three hours preparing everything for Danny's next theme. Get this; he wants to do couples Cupid house for Valentine's Day."

She shakes her head fondly, in a way that reminds him so surreally of Sally that his heart squeezes. "Honestly, what goes through that guy's head?"

Charles beams back at her, hand curling around a glass of juice that zaps into existence in front of him like second nature. He hands it over to Jazz while she carefully cuts through her meatloaf.

"I think it's a wonderful idea," Charles tells her, leaning back in his chair. Jazz joins him as another plush chair appears at his side, and it takes him a moment to realize that Danny has restored the same club chairs from when the Gotham Fog Lodge originally opened.

These chairs were the ones that Charles and Sally used the first night they met by the fireplace of the hotel's main sitting room. They spoke for hours, and by the end of that night, he knew she was the one. Seeing the young lady he considered his granddaughter sitting in the same chair, Sally had adored so much, made her feel closer then ever before.

He wonders if he could die from how warm his heart glows.

"I think love is the greatest thing Gotham Fog Lodge can offer," Charles says, wiping some tears away. In return, jazz gives him a warmer smile, and Danny appears on his other side, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Gotham Fog Lodge is great because you're here, Grandpop," Danny says, seemingly unaware of how the hotel brightens when he speaks. "You were the only one who was kind to us when we got to Gotham."

Charles hugs the two rascals to hide the few tears that fall from happiness. He has no proof, but he's sure Sally sent these wonderful children his way. How else could a smuck like him be this lucky?

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #One Hell of a good Bellhop #Part 2 #Charles' pov #The Fenton kids are odd in normal peoples eyes #Danny is at home in his new Haunt #There are some rules #Danny can't keep any of the wealth he creates like the dimonds terira but others can since his Obession is protection #Jazz be the CEO of life #Pre-anger managment #The Hotel is magic #And Charles loves his grandbabbies

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florencemtrash · 1 month ago

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The Graveyard Shift: Chapter I

Simon Riley x f!Reader

Author's Note: Credit goes to @gloomwitchwrites and this specific post for inspiring this fic! This idea has lived in my mind rent free for weeks now, so I'm finally just going to do something about it.

Summary: Simon Riley is a lonely grave keeper in Victorian England who puts a marriage proposal ad in the London newspaper. He's ready to make his house a home, but can he convince his new wife that he can be her safe space, or will the secret she carries threaten their newfound happiness?

Warnings: abusive marriages (not Simon), allusions to SA in later chapters (not explicit)

The Graveyard Shift Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Next chapter ->

Y/n mourned her husband until the end of the funeral for propriety’s sake. Then, she had to start making plans.

There were few opportunities for widows, and even fewer for those of illegitimate birth and in possession of inhospitable family members. But though her husband had been of the London variety with soft hands and grotesque manners, she knew the cost of labor. Hard work was a familiar, necessary friend. Perhaps she was lucky her husband had never divorced her from her harsh upbringing — never made her a stranger to toil.

Her husband was a week in the grave when an opportunity finally came her way. She was perched on her stoop, loaf of bread clutched beneath her arm, and scarf flying into her mouth as she fought to keep the newspaper flat enough to read.

Simon Riley.

It was a simple, sensible name, printed in plain text and crammed in the bottom right corner of the second page. It was a cheap ad, and because space was so expensive, all the lines were written one after another. Sentences forced to lay side by side like coffins in a pauper’s grave.

Simon Riley. 33 years old. Grave keeper by trade. In need of a wife. Never married. 18 shillings/week. Contact Father Hughes. Chilham, Kent.

There was an additional line asking for a photo or description of appearance, age, and a handful of other pertinent information, but she skipped over it hastily. It mattered not what she could offer this man, only what he could offer her. Safety. Food. A roof over her head. A chance to escape her pitiful existence in London. She could give him whatever else he wanted. She had no other choice.

She’d investigated every page of the paper for five days now for a position or a household that might take her. She was bastard-born and though she could read and write well enough, no self-respecting family would hire her as a governess. She could cook and clean and sew and mend and do whatever the factories required of her, but those were skills easily found in women. Desperation — that too was easily found in women. But unlike many other women, she had no husband who might make the task of finding work easier. Her deceased husband had stolen what little else might make her appealing to an established man.

But… a grave keeper? He might just be lonely enough to take her. And a second marriage could save her.

It could be better. She realized with a shock of hope, holding the paper flat against her heart. It has to be better.

That evening she carefully cut away the advert with a pair of kitchen scissors, keeping it pressed between two scraps of fabric in the seam of her waist to keep the ink from smudging, and threw the rest of the paper in the fire. She watched as the edges of the print caught, words quickly swallowed up by fire as the paper curled in itself and flickered into dust.

Micklethwaite’s Photography was a bustle of activity on the Saturday afternoon she went. Wheeled out to the south corner of Bunson St, its pitch black curtains stared out at the penny shop across the street like a pair of pupils. Faint camera flashes from within gave the impression that the cart was winking at passerby as they bustled between shoppes carrying groceries and freshly pressed shirts from the tailor’s.

Y/n stood fourth in line and anxiously stared at her reflection in the dusty glass display where a small mirror had been set up beside rows of sample tintypes. The eyes that stared back at her were bright and glassy, and it took many moments for her to truly recognize herself. Her husband, being the kind of religious man that he was, had covered the mirrors in the house, declaring that only God should look upon her and see her soul. Now that he was dead and she was free to stare as she pleased, she realized how solemn she looked. How frightened.

She smoothed her hair for the fifteenth time and adjusted the frilly collar of her most handsome dress. There were two men in front of her, both dressed in their Sunday best as they combed through their neat beards with their fingers. They discussed business, pointing with some interest at the paper ads covering the brick wall of the butchers a few storefronts over, paper peeling away from the wall.

They only regarded her once, tipping their heads in slight, empathetic bows as they noticed her black dressing gown. These were gentlemen, and they would give a widow her due course… in public of course. Private matters were private matters. Little did they know she was already planning her second marriage. Or maybe they did know. She imagined their phantom judgement so fiercely it became real, until she was wringing her fingers beneath her shawl. But they moved quickly inside the photographer’s studio, and left shortly after with tintypes in hand.

Then it was her turn.

She slipped behind the curtain, stifling a cough as dust shimmered in the artificial light. Developing chemicals leant a sharp, acrid smell to the air, burning her sensitive nose. A plain grey curtain lined the back wall, held up by nails hastily hammered into the wood. Cramped along the sides were bins of discarded tintypes and strange liquids swishing in glass bottles as the photographer hurried over from where he’d been bent over a tray of solution.

Brown, flash blown eyes and a tobacco-stained smile greeted her, nestled beneath a rather impressive mustache. “What brings you in?” He asked, ignoring her obvious mourning clothes as she carefully folded her shawl and removed her hat.

The question jarred her, but a lie spilled out her lips with surprising ease. “My husband recently passed, and it was his wish that a picture of mine be laid with him.”

Richard Hall had made no such request. He was already buried. And if he knew his widow was engaging in as indulgent an activity as having her picture taken he would have asked the good Lord to send him back to earth. That or he would have asked the devil to climb out of hell for an evening.

The photographer only nodded in understanding. Widows and widowers were a dime a dozen as far as he was concerned.

He had her sit before the wall, slipped behind the camera, and snapped a photo before Y/n was truly ready.

“Wait!” She called out as he busied himself with dunking the photo in one of the many chemical baths laid out beside him. She twitched her nose at the sharp smell. “Can we… Can we do that again?” She stammered, “I wasn’t ready. And my husband—”

“I charge by the tintype. I’m afraid it will cost you extra.”

“I can pay.” She responded a touch too quickly.

He nodded once more and she took the few precious moments she was afforded to try lifting her eyes and her cheeks a little more. She stretched her neck, overcoming an innate urge to curl up into nothing. She wanted to look gracious. Kind. Lovely. The kind of woman a certain grave keeper might be enamored with.

In the end she left the photographer disappointed with the two tintypes hidden in the folds of her skirts. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting. Had she thought the camera would capture some feature she wasn’t aware of? Create a beauty out of thin air where there were only sad eyes and a shrunken face? She’d entered the booth knowing the years had not been kind to her, but she’d hoped…

She took the remainder of the pin money her son-in-law had given her for the day’s outing and paid the postage on her letter to Mr. Simon Riley. She tried to keep things brief and straightforward, for the cost of every sheaf of paper ate away at her meager allowance, but she couldn’t help the small personal details that ended up in the final letter.

Y/n Hall of London, though originally born of Henley-on-Thames, Oxfordshire, where the weather is no better or worse than anywhere else. 25 years of age. Can sew, knit, cook, clean, read, and sing (passably). Would enjoy gardening if given the chance. Of small upbringing. Quiet and of respectable countenance.

She’d struggled with the last line for hours. Tossing and turning in bed all night as she wondered at the lie that might become trapped on paper. But in the early hours of the morning, before she took leave of her house with pin money and letter in hand, she’d padded over to her vanity and written the last line of her letter to Simon Riley.

Never married.

Next chapter ->

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley ghost x reader #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #arranged marriage #historial au #simon riley cod #cod #the graveyard shift

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 26 days ago

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Cain (p3)

Tw: Violence, Cain is a mean asshole, he is also mentally unstable, lost his shit in this chapter; smashing furniture and shit. This is just abusive relationships man, yandere themes. Reader is gender neutral. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

This is part 3

Click here for part 4

Click here for part 1

Days turned into weeks, into months. You've let this stranger live in your apartment rent-free. But you don't think he's a freeloader, because you noticed that whenever something runs out at home, be it eggs, toothpaste, or your favourite snack, it magically replenishes itself. But you knew Cain was behind this; you barely go to the grocery store anymore because it just keeps getting replaced with new versions of it.

You know that he's not paying any of it. The first time you went grocery shopping with him and saw him with the duffle bag, it had a purpose. His stopping by your shopping cart every so often had a purpose; his being a jerk about people looking at him also had a purpose.

You deduced all that when you came back that day and found that there were duplicates of every item you bought in your pantry and fridge. You weren't hallucinating, you weren't going crazy, you didn't pay extra. Cain stole a copy of what you lawfully bought that day.

Asking him about it (no matter how gently) will make him yell at you for being "ungrateful", "picky" and a "Stuck-up asshole", and make him storm off to "cool down" somewhere else on earth. He would come back either injured or with a whole bunch of random valuables, which would disappear the next day. Being the kindhearted person you are, you wanted to think that Cain returned the items to their rightful owners.

Regardless, Cain still replaces your favourite cereal whenever it's running low.

He still maintains his quirk until now: refusing to eat anything unless you take a bite or sip out of it first. You don't have to worry about cooking too much and wasting the leftovers, or eventually finding out that you don't like the dish. Because Cain is like your compost bin, he would just eat it for you.

He doesn't cook. You found that if you left nothing behind, he didn't get to eat that day... or so you assumed. But either way, you made it a habit to cook a larger portion so he could be fed too.

Conversations are few and far between. You know virtually nothing about the man aside from a few fun facts: he likes keeping his hair red because you caught him one day dyeing his hair with a box dye in your bathroom. You thought that you're going to get kicked out or yelled at because it might be an embarrassing situation to be seen in, but instead, upon noticing that you're there, he said:

"Go piss or shit. I don't care." while applying dollops of dye to his hair in front of the sink mirror.

You said that you do mind it very much, you want your privacy.

"Then hold it in. I'll get out when I'm done." He said so nonchalantly.

Other than that, he's surprisingly respectful in his own way. You thought you would need to do everything yourself on top of taking care of a grown man. But Cain learns. He observes you and, most importantly, does what you do to keep this household afloat.

He noticed that you would clean the dishes a few hours after the meal. Cain would do the same thing, just an hour before you're expected to get up and do it.

He noticed you would take out the trash whenever it filled up, which used to be weekly before he came along. Cain would take care of that before you do.

He noticed that you would stress over the bills and how much it has risen since he came into the picture. And there was the question of your mortgage, too. You're too scared to start charging him rent, fearing that he might not take it well, as he seems to be the type who does not like explicit directives.

However, it seems like he would pick up on it. You would find extra cash that is sometimes speckled with some red liquid. And these aren't chump change either; they can go up to hundreds of dollars, usually enough to cover all your bills and give you a bit of fun money.

He would put them in places where you would absolutely find them, but it's an objectively strange choice. You found a rolled-up stack of hundred-dollar bills in your shoes once, five dollars in the shower caddy, twenty dollars taped to the inside of your uniform (scratching you as you put it on), eighty dollars under your pillow... Asking him about his choice to do this leads to the same angry rant about how you're looking down at him and not appreciating his efforts.

Out of all the places, you don't think that he has ever put cash in your wallet. But with the help of Cain, you managed to get yourself a brand new phone and made the mistake of getting him one too. To which, he took great offence until you framed it as your thankfulness for his efforts around the house. And it was a token of his appreciation. Only then did he accept it without speaking any further.

He's unfortunately not too much of a tech wizard, often leaving them at home when going out for long periods. The way he acts made you wonder if he's someone from the 90s being brought forward into the present.

Cain also had an effect on your work life.

You don't think you have missed a bus anymore, as Cain had the balls to block the doors and force the bus driver to wait for you.

Whenever you're doing the closing shift, he would be there to escort you home. And it was the safest you've ever felt, despite feeling embarrassed when you think Cain is being unnecessarily hostile to innocent people who just "appear" unnerving.

You had an idea to try and get Cain to work alongside you. In hindsight, that was a terrible idea. Surprisingly, Cain agreed to it. Since this is a small town, your boss favours you; he had no problem getting in without an interview or even a background check.

He got fired and banned from the establishment on his first day.

A woman in her mid-ages complained to Cain that her coffee wasn't done well when he had followed all the instructions to a T. She has complained that it wasn't hot enough for her, despite it being at a temperature that can burn. You don't know what set him off that day; maybe it was the ridiculous nature of her complaint, or maybe she reminded him of his many foster mothers who neglected him.

To your horror, Cain decided to splash the cup of coffee against her face. She screamed in pain and fell to the ground. Raising his voice, "Fucking hot enough now, isn't it?"

Cain walked out of the cafe with eyes all on him; it was a miracle that no one was recording. And it was an even bigger miracle that you kept your job, the woman didn't press charges, and neither did your boss. You, of course, apologized profusely to them.

The woman screamed about suing them all, putting Cain behind bars, and closing the cafe down. But you never heard from her again, not even a subpoena. You thought she had a change of heart, and such a nice woman for forgiving everyone.

You expressed your thoughts about it, and Cain kept his lips sealed. He also didn't want to look you in the eye. Perhaps he's feeling remorseful?

You had no idea what happened to your bicycle; it disappeared the day you got your new phone. Asking Cain about it will just earn you a huff and silence. Pressing him about it will get you yelled at for being a dumbass and potentially being part of the statistics of idiotic bicycle deaths.

You think he sold your bicycle.

But it's alright, because he made it up to you by getting a Roomba. You don't know how that is the equivalent of your bicycle, but in his mind, he thinks it is. It was one of the things he's actually proud to present to you, and you didn't have the heart to express anything less than gratitude.

You have to admit that it's quite interesting and fun to watch the small robot just scutter around the room. You would catch him doing that, too, and he doesn't seem to care that you're there, unless you stare at him for too long and not at the Roomba.

Laundry is a strange ordeal with him. There is a Laundromat nearby, and he would always be the one to do it. Whenever you tried doing your own, he would hiss and snarl like a wild animal before snatching it away from you.

As it turns out, he just likes watching the clothes spin and spin through the windows of the front-loading washing machines and dryers. You deduced that it's almost meditative to him, because he would be at his calmest in the laundromat... as long as no one keeps his eyes on him too long.

You even joined him one day, sitting next to him and watching the hypnotizing spin. He paid you no mind, but you knew that he was aware of your presence, as there was one time someone tried striking up a conversation with you. Only for the stranger to be met with Cain's snappy attitude, no one dared to approach you after that.

All seems well. Even though it felt like you were walking on eggshells around him at first, you quickly learned his unspoken, sacred rules and easily maneuvered this strange friendship you have with him. You think Cain is perfectly integrated into your life, and he seems content either sleeping on the couch or on the floor.

He never asked for more, but you're sure that his back is probably killing him from sleeping like a shrimp. So you made the change from a regular couch to a sofa bed, and you made sure to clarify that you're doing this for yourself. Cain didn't object to it, which you can safely interpret as approval.

And approved he did, he was the first one to try out and explore the new piece of furniture. Cain hogged it entirely, using it as a bed and also a shelf, having items randomly placed as if they're soft plushies- you noticed that he's a bit of a hoarder with the random jewelry and items he brings home. He wouldn't encroach on your cabinets and drawers, save for that one portable closet you bought online for him. It was empty for a few weeks until he got the hint that it was for him to put his own stuff. And boy, did he really utilize it.

He doesn't verbally express his gratitude, but you know that he's not taking whatever you gave him for granted. You can see it in his actions, you can feel it.

You don't really have a lot of contacts in this town. But sometimes you do have friends and family flying in and asking if they could spend the night at your place. And you're always put in an extremely difficult position, because what the hell should you tell them? You tried asking Cain if they could stay over, and he flew into a fit of rage. Now, you only saw him cry once, and that was when he first asked you if he could stay at your place. But there were hot, angry tears whenever you mentioned friends and family.

And you could tell that he felt really hurt for some reason. You couldn't tell what the hell he was ranting about, but he goes ballistic over the thought of you having a life outside of him.

Unfortunately, you end up turning them away, because at one point, his outburst got so bad that he took your phone and smashed it against the ground while screaming about how life is unfair to him, about how he wishes death upon your friends and family that he hasn't even met, about how it was only supposed to be you and him. And no one else.

You told him that you didn't understand why he was so upset over your friends and family. You said that you wouldn't have them over if he doesn't want them encroaching on his space. Though you felt bitter when you realized you didn't have full control over your own home.

"Of course you don't! You don't- Don't know what it's like to be me! I fucking hate it, I fucking hate myself! I-I-" He was pacing around, tugging on his hair and grinding his teeth. His teary face scrunched up, as if he were in unbearable pain.

He curled up into a ball on your living room floor and just sobbed. He was expressing a lot of pain, the type that would kill any normal person. But not him, because he's strong and fueled with determination to live in spite of it. But there is only so much stress a man like him can handle.

You looked around. And saw the broken furniture, electronics, and decor that Cain destroyed during his massive meltdown. Most importantly, the phone that's in pieces on the floor. You should have left, you should have called the police, and changed your locks.

Yet, you made the conscious decision to stay and hold a respectful silence for him. You didn't touch him, you didn't give him words of comfort, you just stayed.

And to Cain, that was his first taste of warmth that didn't scorch him. The type of warmth that soothes him, the warmth that he was supposed to receive from the one who loves him.

He mumbled something. You let out a "huh?" as you didn't catch what he said.

"I'm sorry..." He muttered in between sniffles.

That shook you to the core; it was the first time you had heard him apologize. It must have taken tremendous strength for him to have said that. And so, you verbally and clearly forgave him.

He broke down further, crying harder and coughing more.

You didn't know why or what you were doing, but you scooted over and coaxed him to place his head on your lap. You then started to play with his hair. And this seemed to lull him into a deep sense of safety, as you saw him struggling to keep his eyelids open.

He felt warm.

Over the following days, Cain tried his best to clean everything up and to replace whatever he broke. Which is nice of him, but you knew he shoplifted a lot just to do that, and you wished he didn't.

Neither of you spoke about the incident. You end up using his phone as your own now. Cain offered that as a solution. He didn't mention getting another phone for you or himself, though.

Disappointed, but accepting, your friends and family ended up deciding to get a hotel instead. But the visitation date would be pushed back further. You don't think it was a good time to talk to Cain about them visiting, regardless.

Life went on as usual. Except Cain would be at home a lot more, seemingly wanting to get close to you. His temper became much milder, and he became a lot less snappy, instead opting to stay silent when he gets irritated.

You didn't think much of it, until one day he dropped this bomb on you:

"I'm in love with you."

He said this with such conviction, no room for doubt, all certainty. It wasn't phrased as a question, but a solid statement.

You were sitting on opposite sides of the dining table, doing the crossword puzzle book Cain got you as a silent apology for destroying your phone. You looked up and examined his face.

His eyes were soft. Weary, even. There was no hint of wrath, trickery, or shame. There was an air of desperation and even... vulnerability around him. It's a new look on him, and it felt uncanny to you.

You have no idea how to respond. So you opened and closed your mouth like a fish out of water, but said nothing.

Eventually, you expressed that you're speechless and you don't know what to do with his confession.

He looked crestfallen. Cain then averted his eyes to somewhere else. You saw that he's blinking a lot more and taking deeper breaths.

You thought that was the end of that conversation because he didn't continue it for a while.

But you were wrong.

"...What would it fucking take to make you love me, huh?"

You felt the chills down your spine once you heard the harshness return to his once tender tone. He's back, and he's pissed.

His expression became mean. He became the Cain that you always knew. You sighed inwardly, realizing that you had made him put his walls back up.

"Was everything not enough?! Am I not enough for you, huh?! You think you're better than me?!" He shot up from his seat and slammed his hands onto the table. You winced at the sheer volume of his voice. But you could feel the excruciating torment of being rejected once again, and he felt cold. He felt unwanted once more.

You made yourself much smaller in your chair, putting your hands up as a shield.

"You're a fucking asshole, a fucking piece of shit, I hate-" He choked on his own tears, knuckles turning white over how tight he balled his fists. "I..." He gulped and then coughed, then gasped for air. Then sobbed.

It was a pitiful cycle, and it was scary to watch. But you do so anyway, because you believe that everyone deserves to be heard, no matter how insane.

Cain collapsed back into his chair and sobbed into his hands. He kept wiping his eyes and nose harshly, until they turned red.

"I-I can never hate you, I can't. I..."

Cain sounded so broken. But there isn't anything you could do aside from waiting it out.

"I don't know..." He rasped. "I'm in love with you, and it hurts. It really fucking hurts."

You gave him a minute to calm down before speaking up.

You asked him how you could help. To that, you were met with a long pause from the distressed man in front of you.

He reluctantly put his hands down, not before giving himself one last wipe.

Cain then brought his gaze to yours, and you never realized how beautiful his deep brown eyes were. Tortured, but they held an almost ethereal quality to them.

"Will you... Love me back?" He asked, with caution and hope.

You hesitantly replied that you could... try.

Save for the birds outside and the humming of the refrigerator, it was a pin-drop silence. It seems like Cain was processing all of this on his own.

You don't know if you should have said that. Immediately, you started wondering what you had gotten yourself into. But before your thoughts could get too deep,

"Thank you."

It was said in earnest, filled with gratitude and reverence.

Both of you spent the rest of the afternoon in each other's quiet and comforting company.

#yandere #tw yandere #yandere concept #yandere male #yandere oc #reader insert #x reader #yandere x reader #oc Cain #male yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #male yandere oc #male yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x reader #tw violence #tw unhealthy relationship

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