#idk how to turn this into a more complex thought
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do u think when Marc meets little kids (all decked out in gear to support him đĽş) he thinks of his little kid self and how much love and devotion HE had. Turns the whole thing into something just as lovely and pure as he possibly can because he recognises how important stuff like that is. waaah.
#ok Iâm putting this in the tags bc itâs decidedly NOT a rosquez post. On purpose#but do u think he thinks abt himself w his model vale bikes and ofc that whole thing changed bc of how their relationship changed#but do u think for a second itâs not even about that anymore itâs just like#that recognition of how dedicated u have to be to be a kid like that#and the whole thing takes on an even more pure/lovely vibe because of his own experiences#like to recognise someone who is the same as u#and to not turn it into something ugly but rather to make it even more beautiful BECAUSE u know the reality of the other side of it#this post does not detail the complexities of my thoughts on <- that whole thing btw.#but anyway I made myself emotional thinking abt it#ALSO disclaimer I donât even mean mean that Marc thinks abt vale all the time etc etc#I just think. being a fan of the sport in that specific intense way was a very big part of certainly the public perception of MM so like.#in the sense of that feeling moreso than anything else idk#ANYWAY this is just silly yapping <3#for more annoying adjacent yapping u will have to see my twitter since I refuse to do this often#marc marquez#motogp
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Actually, more to the point, I donât understand people who can go to their job stoned and not have a psychotic break. I canât even handle a yoga class, Target, or running into a neighbour and her big dog that jumps on me, while Iâm in that state of mind
#âellen do you have a target in your shitty english hometown??â no girl iâm talking about when i lived in washington#my friend brought me to target and i felt like an ant under a microscope and i spent $40 on cookies#really the last straw for me was when i went to yoga absolutely blasted and i had to use the bathroom before class#and it felt like navigating the minotaurâs labyrinth. i think i left a chunk of my sanity in the womenâs locker room#THEN! my friends left halfway through the class (which i knew they were going to do. i canât express to you how much i knew beforehand that#they were going to leave. they had told me and i had said âokayâ)#and there was nobody else on that side of the room so i opened my eyes during relaxation and got spooked because i suddenly thought i was#the only person left in the room and my goofy yoga teacher had been doing tibetan throat singing at me and me alone#literally turned my head and everyone else in the class was still there. obviously. i felt very dumb#the neighbourâŚ. i straight up called her dog cujo by accident#thank god i no longer live there#that dog was NOT trained though. she was lying about it being an assistance dog. idk how no one in the complex caught on#iâm not trying to judge anyoneâs choices. i just think anyone who shows up to work stoned is either a lot more psychologically sound than me#or maybe they just donât give a fuck? iâm not sure#i mean i pour coffee during the day and copywrite when it occurs to me and i do it sober. like#personal
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*takes my last adderall so i can finish all my work in one day*
*finishes one (1) assignment*
*gets distracted and spends the rest of the day hyperfocusing on delicious in dungeon again*
#i rewatched half the anime last night cause i was too tired to do anything else#i even almost got sucked into reading the manga again the other day but forced myself to stop after 1 chapter#def gotta buy hard copies#this is one of if not the only thing i can enjoy multiple times IN SUCCESSION!#actually i was like this with turning red and spiderverse too but#dunmeshi is different.... dunmeshi is special..... my enjoyment of it is more than just the animation or the art.....#ive never felt this particular way about anything but i've always wanted to#in the past my fanart often felt a little forced even tho i liked those things it was hard to get excited about anything#i think dunmeshi is partially responsible for my depression being in remission#literally#the only depression i feel since spring is about financial problems or being lonely#tangible stuff#but it's not the deep internal depression ive felt for most of my life#idk how to explain but like there's layers to depression#the easier kind to heal from is based in identifiable current issues like loneliness or financial troubles or grief or burnout#then theres the kind that comes from complex trauma or i think sometimes its genetic too#i thought that part would only go away once i solved the surface level stuff and could heal thorugh positive experiences to contradict#the pathways my brains formed overtime via trauma#but although ive had a few moments that have helped#i think dunmeshi. moving out of my old apt where i lived with 3 cishet men into an apt with 1 chill roomie. having time over summer to#get used to a self made routine (despite having MANY financial issues and still not being able to spend it how i planned)#all that is mainly what helped!#like for the first time i was getting excited abt stuff!#i still kinda struggle tho with maintaining that excietment#except with dunmeshi!#it's like no matter what my excitement hasn't diminished#thats very comforting#i gotta force myself to engage in more media so i can find more things to love#i have a habit of putting off things i know ill love bc i wanna be ready for it#so that if i do love it ill have the time and energy to get inspired and make fanart
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i'm taking the jlpt this sunday and had a stress dream last night abt it bc it sort of snuck up on me and now it's kind of a question of how much my actual japanese abilities will carry me (versus if i should've been cramming on flashcards this past month) but the listening portion is far simpler conversation than my coworkers and i have so. i think that maybe instead of "damn i should've been studying japanese" my perspective should just be "i speak japanese"
#a key part of the dream though was that i failed because i went on a motorcycle joyride during the 40 minute break and didn't make it back#in time for the listening section. the prompt for the listening section btw was to write an essay in english about kirishima eijirou#so i was like damn i would've totally passed#anyway hashtag classic maya but idk#i think i have a bit of a complex abt it bc i was studying for n1 (highest level) in college#but w the switch to online learning we stopped studying the stuff i really needed to work on (vocab and kanji)#and whatever kanji i knew how to write went out the window bc i never had to turn in written homework again#so i really let myself go there for a good two years but since moving last summer i've not only been having japanese conversations every da#i've also actually been studying kanji in my downtime at work#so i have picked up most of the study guide-type information just really slowly over time#i read a ton of manga in japanese lately and most shows on netflix here don't have eng subtitles but i'm fine without them 95% of the time#with the genre of shows i watch at least#so i've been thinking a lot lately abt what my end goal is w japanese studies because 'be able to consume all the art i want' feels like#a good place to be#i do think in the end the only thing between me and n1 is a lot of genuine hard work studying vocab and kanji and reading serious articles#so i feel like all 'sekkaku da shi' i've made it this far why would i just stop working at this point#those are just my thoughts though aaaa i know reading/vocab/grammar section is way more hit or miss#personal
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did i ever mention taylor was apart of a cult growing up?? i feel like i did at some point. hopefully. anyway,,, taylorâs cult era everyoneđ
#oc#oc art#my oc art#oc stuff#taylor!!#taylor owned a cult#or more accurately a cult owned taylor#but taylor was the one who was regarded as a leader??#who owns who in this situation????#tfw ur groomed and raised by a cult to be seen as a god and are regarded as a leader#but despite being worshiped yr every actions are controlled#so when the cult is finally discovered and dismantled you donât know what to do with yourself#bc your entire world was built around the cult and in turn around yourself#so you r basically raised into having a god complex that was actively encouraged by everyone around you growing up#so when you get out you donât know how to interact with the people around you#anyway#i have Thoughts#anyway i adore taylor and i love the cult era sm bc of how in-depth it shows the way that how you grow up#especially in an environment like this#can affect your adult life#idk i like thinking abt shit like this sometimes#itâs interesting to think abt for me lmao#he was worshiped and praised#but like in the worst way possible#he was damned from the start all bc of the adults around him#they raised a god and broke a child in the process#cult taylor!!
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hey girlyyyyy could you maybe write for Tim Bradford from the rookie and like the reader is his rookie and while theyâre on patrol they run into someone who knows the readerâs abusive ex bf and he makes threats against reader and after their shift reader is super scared so he escorts them home and stays with them idk just an idea đ
Nightlight || Tim Bradford x reader

â Ë・âŕ¨ŕ§Ë masterlist ⢠john nolan fic  âË・âŕ¨ŕ§â
summary: when you encounter a man while on patrol who has a threatening message from your ex, your TO, Tim, offers to spend the night with you
word count:Â 10.4k
warnings: abusive past relationship, reader kind of has a panic attack, mild language, blood, guns, inaccurate police stuff
a/n: ahhh i had so much fun writing this, love!! i took your idea and also added some stuff so i hope you like what i did. i also apologize for the length, i kinda went wild. i imagine this to take place in s1. fem!reader. enjoy!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~âŚ~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
   â7-Adam-19, armed shoplifter, Radcliffe Complex, 718 Oscar Road. Respond.â
   The dispatcherâs voice filled the silence of the car.
   â7-Adam-19 responding.â Officer Bradford set down the radio and replaced his hand on the steering wheel.
   âWhatâs the most important thing to remember when dealing with an armed shoplifter, Boot?â Tim asked you after a moment.Â
   âWhy did I think that when I was in short-sleeves I would get a break from your Tim Tests?â you muttered. Â
   Youâd been Bradfordâs rookie for seven months now and some days he still treated you like it was your first day on the force. You appreciated him trying to teach you so thoroughly, but did he have to be so Tim all the time?
   âIs that your answer, Boot?âÂ
   âNo, um, I guess it would be that heâs armed. But no, thatâs too obvious for you. Ok, what about what theyâre stealing? Their physical state? Keeping their hands in sight at all times?â
   Tim sighed, looking bored. âWrong. Itâsââ
   âSuspect on the move, heading east on Apple Boulevard,â came the dispatcherâs update, interrupting your TOâs answer.
   âLooks like weâre headed east,â Tim said, turning sharply in the direction youâd just come from.Â
   âSaved by the suspect,â you joked.Â
   âDonât think this is over,â Tim narrowed his eyes at the road. âLessons donât stop for crime.â
   âOk, batman.â
   Tim glared at you.
   âI mean, Sir.â
   After youâd first been assigned to Officer Bradford, youâd been told stories of his ruthless training style. Your first thought was that you needed to impress him from day one.
   Well, technically your first thought was damn, because youâd have to be insane not to notice how objectively attractive he was. But youâd quickly quelled that thoughtâcrushing on your TO was not how you wanted to start your career as an officer.Â
   So, impressing him was your second thought. And you had been more than a little terrified of not impressing him.Â
   You would be lying if you said that wasnât how things still were between you two, to a degreeâyou trying to prove yourself and him making it as difficult as possible.Â
   But, at least after several months, you felt like your TO trusted you more.Â
   âThere!â You pointed to a man running down the street, duffel bag in hand.
   Tim hit the gas, surpassing the suspect, and skidding to a stop in front of him, effectively cutting him off.Â
   You both hurried out of the car, weapons drawn on the man who was currently aiming his gun back and forth, between you and Bradford.Â
   âPolice! Drop your weapon!â Tim shouted at the man.Â
   The man hesitated, seeming to be weighing his optionsâhow easily he could take out two cops.Â
   âSet the weapon down, nice and easy,â Tim ordered, his own gun still pointed at the suspect.â
   The man, seeming to sense the inevitability of his capture, sighed and set his gun on the ground.Â
   âThe answer was dialogue, by the way,â Tim addressed you, his eyes still on the suspect. âDialogue is the most important thing when dealing with an armed suspect.â
   âGood to know,â you acknowledged, before ordering the man in front of you. âHands behind your head, interlace your fingers.â
   The manâs gaze shot to you as he obeyed your commands.Â
   âHey, lady cop, you look familiar,â the criminal squinted at you.��
   âYou must have me mistaken for someone else,â you said. Youâd never seen this man in your life.Â
   âI swearââ
   âHands on the car!â You orderedÂ
   The man reluctantly did what he was told, placing his palms on the side of the shop.Â
   âWait a minute,â the man sized you up before smirking slowly. âYour Paul Cranstonâs girl, ainât ya?â
   You felt your blood instantly run cold at the name.Â
   âYou must have me mistaken for someone else,â you said again, robotically, grabbing one of his arms.Â
   âNo, no Iâd recognize that pretty face anywhere,â the criminal whispered. âHe told me all about you. Hey, why donât you let me go and Iâll give you a friendly tip?â
   You responded by twisting his arm behind his back even harder.
   He winced. âSo you didnât hear then? Paulâs out.â
   No. That couldnât be true. Paul wasnât supposed to be out forâ
   âBoot, you going to cuff him or not?â Tim called impatiently.
   âRight.â You shook off the stupor and began handcuffing the suspect. Your mind was still on that name, however, and your reflexes were slowed.
   Which is how the suspect was able to rip his arm from your grip and shove you to the ground as he tried to make a break for it.Â
   Tim tackled him almost immediately, wrestling him into the cuffs that were dangling on one of his wrists where you had started to restrain him, and pushing him towards the shop.
   âWait, Paulâs got a message for you!â the man hurried out, looking only at you as Tim waked over and shoved him into the backseat. âHe said you best watch yourself, because he has connections, and he still hasnât gotten his revenge. Heâs outâand heâs coming for you.â
   âThatâs enough, get in the car.â Tim slammed the door shut, and the echo of it rang in your ears as the manâs words played over and over again.
   Heâs out, and heâs coming for you.Â
   âWhat the hell was that?âÂ
   You looked up to Bradfordâs questioningâand furiousâface. He offered you a hand and you took it, standing up to face him.Â
   âSorry, Iââ
   ââSorryâ doesnât stop criminals from escaping,â Tim shouted. âGet your head in the game. You do want to be a cop, donât you, Boot?â
   âYes, sir.â
   So much for Tim trusting you. You couldnât believe youâd almost just let a suspect get away. That had never happened to you before. But, that nameâ
   Your TO shook his head, walking to the drivers side and opening the door. âYou know, I should write you up for that.â
   You noticed his wording. âBut youâre not going to?â
   He waited for you to get into the passenger seat before saying,Â
   âI didnât say that. First youâre going to tell me what just happened between you two.â
   You flinched. âItânothing. It was nothing.â
   âUh-huh. It didnât sound like nothing. Whoâs Paul Cranston?âÂ
   You swallowed hard. âHeâs just someone I used to know.â
   A million images flashed through your head. Paulâs face looming over you. The flashing lights and sirens. Waking up in the hospital.Â
   You shook yourself out of it. You didnât want to talk about this now. You swore youâd never talk about it again. âShouldnâtâshouldnât we get back to the station. Donât we have to book this guy?â
   Tim sighed, started the car, and re-entered traffic. You breathed a sigh of relief.Â
   âControl, this is 7-Adam-19. I need an ID on a Paul Cranston,â Tim spoke into his radio.Â
   And so much for not talking about this now.
   âCan you do that without suspicion of a crime?â You asked him.
   âYou can when dispatch loves you.â He winked at you.Â
   You rolled your eyes at him as the radio began speaking.Â
   âPaul Cranston: caucasian male, date of birth 8/4/92, recently released on parole, history of theft and domestic violence.âÂ
   Tim turned his gaze to you. âHow do you know this man, Boot?â
   âItâsâa long story,â you told him.Â
   âWell then you better start talking if you want to finish before we reach the station,â Tim commanded, making a left turn.
   âCanât you just let it go?â You asked him. âItâs really not that big of a deal.â
   Heâs out, and heâs coming for you.Â
   You couldnât fight the shiver that racked your body.Â
   Timâs eyes flicked to you, before returning back to the road. Suddenly, he slammed on the brakes, shifting the car into park before turning to you.Â
   âIf this is another one of your âIâm dying, where are weâ testsââ
   âBoot, focus,â Tim barked.Â
   âWith all due respect, sir, I donât think itâs really any of your concern ifââ
   âOf course itâs my concern!â Tim shouted. His expression was so intense, you squirmed under his gaze and you felt your face heat.Â
   He looked torn for a moment, before sighing and saying, âItâs my job as your TO to train you to the best of my abilities, and I canât do that if youâre withholding information that may affect your performance as an officer.â
   âFine,â you breathed. âIt was a long time ago. I was 18, Paul and I met freshman year of college. We started dating and things were fine, good even, for a while.â
   âUntil?â Tim prompted.
   âUntil he got pissed one night because I caught him coming home really late with a ski mask and a bag full of stolen cash. Cliche, right?â
   You looked to Tim, but his expression was as stony as ever and you continued.
   âApparently, heâd been stealing since high school and turns out heâd lied to me about working in retail and a whole bunch of other stuff. I threatened to call the police if he didnât stop andââ
   You took a deep breath, steeling yourself.
You watched the houses and trees and cars pass by as you drove towards the station.Â
   ââand he hit me. It didn't stop after thatâonce he knew he could get away with it. He said if I ever told anyoneâabout the robberies, the beatingsâthat heâd kill me. And I let him go on like that for months. I was so scared that if I called anyone, heâd make good on his promise.â
   Timâs grip on the steering wheel tightened, his fingers turning white, but he didnât speak.
   âBut then, one night, it got so bad that I thought he might actually kill me anyway. So I waited until he left the room for a minute and I called 911. He was arrested andâand thatâs all I remember before I blacked out. I woke up in the hospital the next morning.â
   You kept your voice even, trying not to let the emotion show through your story. You were just recounting facts. This was almost 10 years ago, and youâd moved on with your life.Â
   But reliving it all was hard, even after so much time had passed.Â
   âItâs actually why I joined the academy,â you finished. âI wanted to save people, the way the officers that night did for me.â
   You were both silent for a moment.Â
   A muscle in Timâs jaw ticked. âDoes the department know?â
   âYeah,â you sighed. âItâs all part of my file.â
   âAnd the guy back there?âÂ
   You shrugged, glancing back at the suspect and lowering your voice. âHe must be one of Paulâs partners or goons orâI donât know. I guess heâs been in contact with him since he was released, if he knows what I look like.â
   The thought made your skin crawl.Â
   âI donât know what came over me,â you kept going. âItâs been years, I justâI didnât expect to hear about him out of the blue from a criminal on the street, you know? But, I promise it wonât happen again.â
   Tim ignored that. âDo you think it was an empty threat?â
   âI donât know,â you admitted. âBut I sure as hell hope so.â
   Bradford was silent for a long moment, his expression tense.
   The radio crackled to life. â7-Adam-19, we have a 215 in progress near your area, 239 West Armston Street. Respond.âÂ
   âNegative,â Bradford answered the dispatch call.Â
   You stared at him, shocked. âWhy arenât we taking that? We can drop this guy off afterwards.â
   âYeah, I agree,â the suspect chimed in from the backseat. âI think you should take that first.â
   Tim payed him no attention. âTheyâll have someone else over there in minutes. We have more important things to do.â
   âYouâre not even going to ask me if I know what a 215 is?â You joked. Tim never passed up an opportunity to quiz you.Â
   âWhatâs a 215, Boot?âÂ
   âCarjacking.â
   âCorrect.â Tim nodded. âAnd weâre going to have a talk with Sergeant Grey.â
âË â§ âżď¸ľâżŕ¨ŕ§âżď¸ľâż â§ âË
  âPaul Cranston, released on parole from a thirteen year sentence three days ago, currently believed to be residing in the Woodland Hills area.â
   You sat in the briefing room, surrounded by other officers, as Sergeant Grey read out your ex-boyfriendâs file. You stared into Paulâs face on the screen, his mugshot visible from all angles.Â
   Bradford stood near the front of the room, leaning against the wall.Â
   âThe department is aware of Officer (Y/l/n)âs history with Mr. Cranston,â Grey continued. âAnd will take necessary action should the situation progress.â
   âSo, whatâs the course of action here?â Tim crossed his arms.Â
   âIâm afraid, as of now, there isnât one,â Grey said. âSince there is no direct proof against Paul Cranston, weâd essentially be taking the word of a petty thief and wasting resources on what most likely was a desperate attempt to escape arrest. The department doesnât exactly consider it a threat.â
  âDoesnât consider it a threat?â Timâs voice was low and dangerous. âHow about a charge for threatening an officer?â
  âBut Paul didnât threaten an officer,â you sighed, thinking. âThe armed robbery suspect did.â
   âExactly, Officer (Y/l/n),â Grey agreed. âBasically, our hands are tied.â
   âThen untie them,â Bradford snapped, beginning to pace. âThereâs gotta be some technicality we can get him on. Violation of parole, conspiring with a felon, failure toââ
   âThatâs enough, Officer Bradford,â The sergeant fixed your TO with a firm look. âI appreciate your concern for (Y/l/n)âs safety, but weâve done all we can do. And, for now, thatâs nothing.â
   Timâs concern for your safety. That thought had been in the back of your mind since the ride to the station. You couldnât figure out why Tim was so determined about this. You supposed you were his rookie and was his job to look out for you. It was just, up until now, he hadnât exactly done anything to make you believe heâd care so much.
   âFailure to take action could be endangering one of our officers,â Tim said, his jaw clenched. âWhoâs to say this guy wonât make good on his threat? At least increase security at (Y/l/n)âs residence.â
   âTim, its fine,â you said, your voice firm. âLet it go.âÂ
   They were making a big enough deal about this already. It probably was just a case of a criminal trying anything to get free. You doubted Paul even cared about what happened to you anymore. He probably never wanted to see you againâand that was a good thing.Â
   But, then, you couldnât get those words out of your head.
   Heâs out and heâs coming for you.
   Bradford turned to you, his chest rising and falling. He looked soâŚresolved. Like he did when chasing down a suspect or that time when youâd walked in on him in the training rooms.
   Images of Tim shirtless, the muscles in his back tight as he pushed himself harder filled your head and you quickly shook them away. Definitely not the time.Â
  âWeâll send a surveillance team to Paulâs location in the morning,â Grey said, turning to address you. âBut for now the best thing you can do is to go home, get some sleep, and not let this rattle you. Understood?â
   âYes, Sergeant.â
   âGood. Because the last thing the L.A.P.D needs is a cop who lets their personal life get in the way of their ability to do their job in any way thatâs less than exemplary. I trust thatâs not the case?âÂ
   You glanced to Bradford, certain he was going to mention your mistake with the suspect earlier.Â
   âNo, Sir,â Tim said instead. âMy rookies donât do âless than exemplaryâ. Donât worry about (Y/l/n)âsheâs proved to me she has what it takes to be an officer.â
   âGlad to hear it. Shift over. Everybody else, back to work,â Sergeant Grey waved everyone away.Â
   You walked towards the front of the room, hearing grumbled complaints about midnight shift from the unlucky officers who still had to do patrol as you did so.Â
   You stopped in front of your TO. His eyes were on you, his brow drawn in something that looked like concern.
   âThanks,â you said. You couldnât believe heâd told Grey all thatâit was the most complimentary thing heâd said about you in your whole time riding with him.Â
   âI didnât say anything that wasnât true,â Tim stated, shrugging. âI expect you to live up to any praise Iâve given you.â
   âYes, sir,â you nodded, almost smiling.
   âBesides, youâre being trained by me. Youâd have to be royally screwed up not to become one of the best on the force.â
   âAnd heâs humble too,â you teased. âBut Iâm going to take that as a compliment.â
   âWhatever, Boot.â Tim smiled, shaking his head.Â
   âBe nonchalant all you want,â you said, feeling brave. âI know you like me.â
   For a brief moment, Tim looked like youâd slapped him. But then, the flash ofâwhatever that wasâwas gone and his expression was replaced by one of cold indifference.Â
   âIn your TO not your friend, (Y/l/n),â he stated. âItâs not about liking you. Itâs about training you.â
   You sighed inwardly. Just when you thought you were making ground with Tim, he treated you like youâd just met. âOf course, how could I forget.â
   Tim stayed silent.Â
  âWell, I should head out,â you told him, âIâve got a busy night ahead me. You know, trying not to get killed by my ex and all.â
   Youâd meant it as a joke, to make light of the situation that left you feeling more uneasy than youâd care to admit. Tim, however, just shook his head and brushed past you, out of the briefing room.Â
   You stood there for a moment, trying to work through what had just happened, before turning around and taking a step in the other direction. Only to find Officers Lopez and Bishop standing in front of you, staring between you and Timâs retreating figure.Â
   âSo howâd you do it?â Bishop looked you up and down.
   âDo what?â You asked, confused.Â
   âGet Tim wrapped around your finger,â Lopez answered for her, smirking.Â
   You felt your eyes widen. âTimâs notââÂ
   âPlease,â Lopez put her hands on her hips. âIâve watched him train dozens of rookies and heâs never stood up for any of them like that. So naturally I figured youâre either blackmailing him or sleeping with him.â
   You blanched, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks as you let what Angela said sink in. You knew she was just teasing you, but the statement caught you off guard. You imagined you and Timâtogether. It wasnât necessarily an unpleasant thought. And then you realized what you were thinking and you chided yourself, hurriedly un-imagining it.Â
   âNo, thatâs notâneither one of those things,â you answered quickly. âTrust me, Tim doesnât give me any special treatment, if thatâs what youâre implying. I actually canât tell if he hates me half of the time.â
   âWeâre not implying anything,â Bishop replied. âOnly observing. And he doesnât hate you.â
   âHow can you possibly know that?â You were suddenly insecure. You still held on to a secret dread that you were going to wildly disappoint Timâthat you already had. Sure, there was all the stuff he had just said. But there was also months of him being hard on you and saying that you werenât friends.Â
   âBecause Iâve seen him hate plenty of people,â Bishop spoke. âAnd he definitely didnât look at them the way he looks at you.â
   The way Tim looked at you? You werenât aware he looked at you in a way that was different from the way he looked at anyone else at the station.
   âWhat are you guys trying to say?â You asked them.Â
   âIâm saying watch out,â Bishop raised an eyebrow. âBecause Tim might like you more than heâs willing to let youâor himselfâin on.â
   Could there be any truth to what the two officers were saying? Was it wrong for a small part of you to hope there was?
   âUm, ok,â you said, blinking. âIâll keep that in mind, thanks.â
   âDonât believe us if you want, itâs your call,â Bishop shrugged, backing up. âBut Iâm telling you, you mean something to Tim that the rest of us can only guess at.â
   And with that she walked out of the room.
  âBishop can be intense,â Angela said when the woman was out of earshot. âSheâs got that whole âanti-cops-datingâ thing going onâbut I do think sheâs right about this. Timâs tough, and Iâm sure he gives you hellâbut itâs not because he doesnât like you. I actually think itâs quite the opposite. â
   Was there really something that everyone saw between you and Tim except for you? You still couldnât even entertain the thought that Tim had feelings for you that were more than TO and rookie.Â
   âWell youâve certainly left me with a lot to think about,â you said finally.
   âThen Iâll let you start thinkingâyouâre welcome for the peace of mind.âÂ
   You wouldnât have used the phrase peace of mind, yourself. Sure, it was nice to know that the officers who had known your TO for years were confident that he didnât look down on you. But, this conversation also had left your head swimming with conflicting thoughts about Tim that you didnât feel like dealing with right now.
   âAnd take care,â Lopez said knowingly. âWe have your back if anything happens.â
   With that, your thoughts slammed back to the current situation.
  âRight, that. Youâyou think somethingâs going to happen?â You asked, trying to sound casual.
   âI think in this job we have to be prepared for the worst,â she corrected. âBut I also think that bastard would have to be pretty stupid to mess with you.â
   She smiled at you and you smiled back. After watching her leave, you followed her path, heading towards the locker rooms.
   You thought about what she had said about you and Tim, about Paul.
   You hoped she was rightâyou just couldnât say which you hoped she was more right about.
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   Your thoughts bounced between your conversation with Talia and Angela and the message from your ex as you walked to your car minutes later.Â
   When you woke up this morning, you thought the most stressful part of your day wouldâve been a police chase or a shootout. You never wouldâve expected it to be my ex-boyfriend is out of jail and could be hunting me down and my training officer might have feelings for me.
   Funny how things could change so fast.
   Suddenly, you heard a bang. You spun around quickly, your heart in your throat. But it was only a car door being slammed shut from across the parking lot.Â
   Get a grip, you told yourself.Â
   You rounded the corner, running a hand through your hair.
   You stopped. Tim was leaning against the side of your car, arms crossed in front of his chest. He looked you up and down.
   âWhat are you doing?â You asked.Â
   âDriving you home, Boot,â Tim said. âGet in the car.â
   âTim, you donât have toââ
   âThat wasnât a question, give me the keys.â
   There was no point in fighting him. Besides, there was a small part of you that didnât really want to fight him.Â
   You tossed him the keys to your car and got in the passenger seat with a sigh. Â
   Tim started the engine.Â
   âIf this is about Paul, this really isnât necessary,â you said after youâd been driving for several minutes and the silence became too much. âI can handle myself. I am an officer, in case you forgot.â
   âYouâre a rookie,â Tim corrected, eyes never leaving the road. âAnd if the department wonât do anything, then I will.â
   âWhatâweâre not going to go looking for him, are we?â You asked.
   âOf course not,â Tim scoffed. âIâm not a vigilante, Boot. Where do you live?â
   âTake a left at the light,â you guided.Â
   Neither of you talked for the remainder of the drive, save your occasional directions. When you pointed out your apartment building, Tim parked the car and handed you the keys.Â
   âThanks,â you mumbled to him as you got out of the car, grabbing your bag and heading towards the building.
   You heard a door shut behind you and turned to find your TO standing on the sidewalk, an eyebrow raised.
   âYou didnât think I was just going to let you spend the night alone with a target on your head, did you, Boot?âÂ
   âTimââ
   âNo more protests,â he said firmly. âAs your TO, Iââ
   âNo, I was just going to say that if you were planning on staying here, why couldnât I have just driven my own car?â
   âI donât let my rookies drive,â Tim walked past you and to the front door. âEven off-duty.â
   You followed him quickly, getting out your key and letting you both in.
   When you reached your apartment you did a quick scan of the spaceâit wasnât exactly like youâd been expecting company, much less your training officer. You cringed at the messiness.
   âHow many entrances and exits are there?â Bradford asked.Â
   âUm, just the front door. And thereâs windows in the kitchen and the bedroom,â you said.Â
   You skimmed past everything in the place, looking towards the window in your bedroom. Your eye caught on one of your bras hanging from your bedpost. You quickly ran over and shut the door, blushing and hoping Tim hadnât noticed.
   âPlease, Boot,â Tim made a face. âItâs nothing I havenât already seen before.â
   âOk no offense, but I usually donât let guys see my bra the first time I bring them to my place,â you joked.
   âIf thatâs an offer, Iâm going to have to politely decline.â
   âWhatâno,â you hurried out, worried your voice sounded wrong. âI just meantââ
  Tim interrupted. âIâm going to do a sweep of the place, make sure everythingâs as it should be.â
   âIs that really needed?â
   âIâm not taking any chances.â He left the room and you sunk down onto the couch, letting your bag fall to the floor.Â
   Your TO returned a few minutes later. âAll clear.â
   âSee, everythingâs fine,â you said, speaking just as much to yourself as you were to Tim.Â
   âWell,â Bradford started, amusement in his eyes. âI wouldnât say everything is fine. Your storage closetâs a fire hazard.â
   Had Tim Bradford just made a joke?
   âIâll be sure not to exit through the closet in the events of a fire,â you said sarcastically. âAnd if you keep insulting my living space, Iâm going to be forced to kick you out.â
   âBold for someone whose career I could end.â
   âYou canât end my career for that,â you shot back. Paused. âCan you?â
   Tim raised his eyebrows.
   âOnly one way to find out,â you said enthusiastically, teasing him now. âIâll see you tomorrow. Donât let the closet trap you on the way out.
   âNice try, Boot. But youâre still stuck with me for,â Tim checked his watch. âeight hours.â
   âNine hours,â you corrected. You had to leave for work in nine hours.
   âYouâre right, I should get us drinks,â Tim joked.
   You rolled you eyes and he shot you a look. âHelp yourself to anything in the fridge.â
   Tim got up, disappearing into the kitchen. Â
   âIs all you own ginger ale, Boot?â He called.Â
   âThereâs six year old tequila in the cupboard,â you suggested.
   âGinger ale it is.â
   Tim joined you in the living room again, carrying two bottles. He handed one to you, sitting down on the opposite side of the couch.Â
   You noted the careful distance he put between you.Â
   âWhatâs this thing made of, Boot? Plywood?â Tim asked, inspecting the couch.
   You smothered a laugh.
   âGet comfortable. Itâs where youâre sleeping,â you answered.Â
   âWonât be necessary. If youâre not awake youâre not aware.â
   âSo, what, weâre taking shifts on guard like this is a stakeout?â You asked.
   âDonât be ridiculous. I didnât come here to sleep.â
   âTim I canât let you stay up all night while Iâm unconscious.â you sighed.
   âYou can if itâs an order. Besides, no offense, but rookies are historically less vigilant and have a slower response timeâŚâÂ
   You tried not to take offense at that. âRight, Eagle Eye.â
   Tim glared at you.Â
   âAngela told me.â
   âOf course she did. And at least I didnât leave valuable evidence on the street to chase after a dog wearing a top hat.â
   âSparky couldâve been involved in the crime,â you said, indignant. âAnd that was one time!â
   âOne time too many,â Tim mumbled, lifting the bottle to his lips, his eyes sparkling.Â
   âOk, so when you were a rookie you were, what, perfect?â You shot back.
   âDamn straight.â Tim nodded.Â
   âYou made no mistakes, at all?â You prompted.
   âWell,â Tim took a sip of his drink. âThere was one thing.â
   âAside from the graffiti incident?â
   âThat wasnât a mistake because it wasnât my fault. I was following direct orders andâyou know what, never mind. If you donât want to hear itââ
   âNo, no, I do!â you scooted towards the edge of your seat in anticipation. âAnd none of that âI worked too hard and too efficientlyâ crap.â
   âWouldnât dream of it,â he said sarcastically. âMy first week on the job I was put on paperwork duty, which wasââ
   âBoring and tedious? I can imagine,â you deadpanned, having been put in charge of paperwork by Tim many times.
   âI was going to say necessary and a valuable skill to have,â Bradford corrected. âBut anyways, we had just got done booking a couple suspects and I was working on the reports. A triple homicide and a prostitution case. It was a long day and I was tired and I guess I got sloppyââ
   âYou? Sloppy?â You interrupted.
   âDo you want me to tell you this story or not?â
   âRight, sorry. Continue.â
   Tim did. âIâd just finished tagging the evidence for both cases and when I was filling everything out I somehow got the numbers mixed up. Long story short, according to my report, the homicide gun ended up being linked to the prostitution case and the weapon allegedly used in the triple homicide wasâŚa pair of pink, fluffy handcuffs.â
   You couldnât stop the laugh that escaped you now.
   âForensics caught it before it was sent to the judge, thank god,â Bradford sighed. âBut the next day when I was getting ready for my shift, I was greeted by dozens of similar handcuffs in my lockerâapparently Smitty has a guy.â
   âTell me you kept them,â you begged, pulling your knees up to your chest.
   âOf course not!â
   Tim blinked.
   âWell, not all of themâIsabel made me take a pair home. I found out later that she was the one who orchestrated the whole prank. She used to do stuff like that all the time before she, uh,ââ
   âTimââ
   Youâd heard about Bradfordâs ex-wife. How sheâd become an addict, gotten herself mixed up with bad people. You knew how much it had affected Tim, even if he hadnât said so.Â
   She was in rehab now, getting her life back together. You were glad she was finally getting the help she needed. Still, you knew how much she meant to Tim. How much it had hurt him to move on from her and let her start a new life without him.Â
   âIâm fine.â Tim said firmly, clearing his throat. âItâs good to talk about herâŚbefore. Sheâs on the right path now.â
   You stared at the ground in front of you, picking at your fingernails.Â
   âAre you still in love with her?â The question was out of your mouth before you could stop it. You didnât know why you askedâdidnât know why you cared what the answer was. Ten minutes ago you wouldnât have even dared to ask that question. Â
   But he was being so uncharacteristically open and you seemed to be getting along well. You reluctantly brought your eyes up to Tim.
   His eyes had gone wide. He looked like he wanted to leave or yell at you or both, and you immediately regretted it.
   But then his eyes softened and he opened his mouth. âNo. Iâll always care about her and sheâll always be someone that I did love. But relationships changeâpeople change.â
   You nodded. âI get itâI mean, Iâm kind of rusty on relationshipsâbut I get it. I actually havenât dated anyone since Paul. I guess it was just hard to trust someone after that. I kind of sabotaged any relationship that had any chance of starting.â
   It was the first time youâd admitted that to anyone. You wouldnât have pegged Tim as being so easy to talk to. You had almost forgotten about the whole Paul situation before youâd just brought him up. You had been enjoying hanging out with Tim, no matter the circumstances. He was actually pleasant to be around when he wasnât on the clock.Â
   You imagined this happening more oftenâyou and Tim, not just coworkers but friends. Maybe even more. Maybe this was one relationship you didnât have to end before it started.
   You dared to let yourself think about it. You watched Tim process your words. Saw the emotion clearly written in his face as he looked at you intensely.Â
   âHey, thanks again for not letting me be alone tonight,â you told him, youâre voice soft.Â
   âDonât take it personally, Boot,â he said. âMy house is being repainted and even your place beats breathing in paint fumes all night.â
   âIâm honored,â you laughed, rolling your eyes. âBut you have to admit this has been funâhanging out.â
   Your little impromptu sleepover. You smiled.
   Tim, however, looked like a switch had been flipped inside of him. You watched as he clenched his jaw, leaning almost imperceptibly away from youÂ
   âListen, Bootââ
   He was cut off by the sound of breaking glass and a loud thumping sound.Â
   You both shot up off the couch, abandoning your drinks. Timâs hand went to his gun. You did the same.Â
   Tim turned to you. âStay here.â
   âLike hell,â you shot back, following him as he started to do a sweep of the main room.
   If that sound was someoneâPaulâbreaking in, you werenât going to sit here and let Bradford fight your battles for you.Â
   He signaled to let you know he was moving to the kitchen. You nodded, following.Â
   âClear,â he muttered, and moved on towards the bathroom. You were right behind him when you heard another noise, like the muffled sound of scraping of furniture, and you spun around.
   The bedroom. It was the only room in that direction that you hadnât checked yet.Â
   You glanced to Tim, but he hadnât heard it. He was a few feet ahead of you, just now entering the bathroom.Â
   You slowly stepped away from him and made your way across the apartment, down the hall and over to the closed bedroom door.
   Holding your weapon in one hand, you opened the door with the other. But, you barely had time to see what was on the other side before you were grabbed and a cloth was shoved into your mouth.Â
   Your gun was ripped from your hand, and you were pushed hard onto the ground. Your wrist burned where you landed on shards of glass from the broken window
   Something smacked into the back of your head and you were dragged and thrown onto the bed on the corner. You heard the door shut.Â
   Squinting up into the light, rubbing your throbbing head, your heart dropped as you saw who was in front of you.Â
   âDid you miss me?â Paul sneered, spinning your gun in his hand.Â
   You froze. Everything crashed into you at once. The events of the last time you saw your ex-boyfriend sped through your mind. Suddenly, you were scared and 18 again, at the mercy of this man.Â
   âI guess you got my manâs message,â Paul continued. âBecause you donât exactly look shocked to see me. Scared, of course, but not shocked.â
   Coming back to yourself, you scrambled up onto your knees, ready to knock him out.
   Paul shook his head, laughing. âNo, no. If you move even an inch Iâll shoot you right in the forehead.â
   You sat back down, your heart thumping in your chest as you scanned the room for a way out. Some way to get the upper hand on him. You had been trained for this.
   âListen to me,â he continued, his hand coming to the gag in your mouth. You flinched away from him. âI know thereâs someone in here with you. If you try to scream to alert them, I will also shoot you. Iâd like to play with you first before I put a bullet in your brain but, hey, Iâm not picky. Is that clear?â
   You nodded, trying to measure how fast you could knock the weapon out of his hand before he could take a shot at you. Paul took the cloth out of you mouth.
   You gasped in air. âBackupâs going to be in here any second and then youâre going back to prison.â
   Tim would notice you were gone. He had to.Â
   âOh, I donât think so,â Paul smiled. âIâll be long gone and youâll be long dead before that happens.â
   You glanced towards the door. What was taking him so long?
   Suddenly, Paul reached forwards and gripped your face in his hand. âJust as beautiful as I remember. It was such a shame things had to end with us as they did. How did that happen again? Oh, thatâs right. You betrayed me.â
   âAnd that was the best decision I ever made,â you spat.Â
   Paul backed up, shaking his head. âYouâve gotten feistier, baby. Itâll make this so much more fun for me.â
   He stepped back towards you, his face inches from yours, sneering. âThisâll be just like old times.â
   Bam! The door to your bedroom busted open. Bradford rushed in, taking in the situation. You breathed a sigh of relief.
   âGet down on the ground!â Tim growled.
   Paul froze for only a second, fear flashing across his face, but it was enough. You lunged, wrestling the gun out of his hands, your wrist protesting.Â
   You trained it on him. Paul was surrounded.
   âYou have five seconds to get on the ground before I shoot you,â Tim bit out, his expression murderous.
   âCome on, baby, youâre not going to let Officer Buzzkill treat me like that, are you?â Paul appealed to you.Â
   You leveled your gaze on him, ignoring his words. âYou heard him. Get on the ground.â
   Paul slowly knelt, never taking his eyes off of you. Tim charged him, pulling out handcuffs and locking them around his wrists.Â
  You took a moment to be amusedâof course Tim had off-duty cuffs.Â
  âSo this ends the way it starts, huh?â Paul shook his head. âYou getting me locked up?â
   âJust like old times,â you echoed his earlier statement. You stayed stoic, putting your hands on your hips to hide the way they shook.
  Anger sparked in Paulâs eyes before he took on a smug expression. âYouâre right. Youâre the same girl you were when I met you. You havenât changed a bit.â
   âDonât listen to him, Boot,â Tim warned hauling the man up off the ground.Â
   âYou know Iâm right,â Paulâs manic eyes bore into yours. He was enjoying every moment of this, laughter in his tone. It took all that was in you to keep your expression blank, unaffected. âYouâll always be that person I knewâthe person who loved me. Because you didâlove me. You couldâve walked away. But you didnât. You just took it all like the victim you are. You pathetic bitchââ
   He was cut off abruptly as Tim slammed him face-first against the wall. Paul cried out.
   âThatâs enough!â Tim shouted. âIf you ever threatenâno, if you even look at (Y/l/n) again, I will hunt you down and personally remove every external limb from your body, do you understand me? (Y/n) is a million times the person you will ever be and you donât get to make her feel small. If I didnât think sitting in a cell for the rest of your life was a worse fate, Iâd kill you right nowâscrew the department.â
   Your ears were ringing, your head dizzy as you tried to ground yourself. Your voice came out tiny. âTim, stop.â
   Bradford turned to you, almost as if he had forgotten you were in the room. He was breathing hard, his fists clenched around the man in custody.Â
   âAnd sheâs not a victim,â Tim whispered, turning back to Paul, his voice right by his ear. âSheâs a survivor.â
   With that, he shoved Paul back to the ground and moved over to you, his eyes roaming over your face. Your body. He took the gun out of your hands, setting it on the desk. Then, he gripped your injured wrist and you winced as he inspected it.
   âProbably hurts like hell, but you wonât need stitches. Any other injuries?â
   âUm, he hit me in the back of the head,â you felt your scalp, a lump already forming.
   Timâs hands moved to your hair, his touch gentle, his breath on your cheek as he leaned to get a better look.
   Your own breath caught, your heart racing at the intimacy of your position.Â
   âWhatâs the damage?â You almost whispered.
   Timâs eyes met yours, the heat of his stare spreading through your body. âYouâll have a nasty bruise, but thereâs no external bleeding.â
   Tim stepped back, and you found yourself wishing he hadnât.
   âAre youâare you ok, Boot?â He asked carefully.Â
   How did you even answer that question? You were still in shock, unable to process what had just happened.Â
   âI will be,â you settled on, breathing in slowly. Exhaling.
   Tim looked like he wanted to say more but he clenched his jaw, glancing in the direction of Paul, who had been uncharacteristically silent. Maybe he had finally accepted his defeat.Â
   âIâm going to call for back up, you go clean that up,â Tim gestured to the blood covering your wrist where you had landed in the broken glass. âYou need help?â
   âNo, I got it,â You nodded, walking towards the bathroom as you heard Tim make the call.
   â911, whatâs your emergency?â
   âThis is off-duty officer Tim Bradford, badge 34831. I need a unit to my location for a 126. Suspect in custody. Code 4.â
   Timâs voice faded as you made your way down the hall, shutting the bathroom door after you to access the medicine cabinet behind it.
   You took out the necessary supplies and began cleaning the wound. You stopped in front of the sink, letting your burning eyes close for a moment, massaging your temples.Â
   Now that you were alone, you let yourself collapse, bracing your hands against the counterÂ
   Images flooded your senses.Â
   The gag. Paul hitting you from behind. You, young and frightened, huddled on the ground. That gleam in his eyes.
   Your eyes snapped open, your breath coming out fast.
   Heâs in custody. You told yourself. He canât hurt you anymore.Â
   You looked at your reflection in the mirror staring wearily back at you, your hands still shaking as you brushed your hair back from your face. Was it hot in here or was it just you?
   Turning your attention back to your wrist, you took a deep breath and continued to dab at the wound.
   You reached for the bandages on the counter. A sheen of sweat broke out on your forehead as you wrapped your arm.Â
   You pictured Paulâs grip on you. His words rang in your ears.Â
   Youâre the same girl you were when I met you. You havenât changed a bit.
   The room tilted. You swayed on your feet so you sunk down to the ground, leaning your head against the cabinet, the cool wood pressing against your head.Â
   You tried to slow your erratic breathing but you couldnât. You couldnâtâ
   The sound of footsteps and voices carried through the door. You were vaguely aware that it was probably the backup here to take Paul away.
   You closed your eyes, your throat tight, you pulse thundering in your ears.
   Iâm ok, you tried to tell yourself. Iâm ok. Iâm ok.
   You were unaware how long you sat like this. You had no concept of time. Your thoughts were wild, images flashing in and out, unable to form conscious ideas. Every breath sending a sharp pain through your body.Â
   âBoot?â
   The muffled voice was closer than the others had been.Â
   âBoot?â The voice was louder now. You registered Tim at the door. He knocked once. Twice.Â
   âBoot, Iâm coming in,â he shouted, his voice laced with worry. The door was shoved open.Â
   âDammit,â he cursed, seeing your state. You felt him getting closer to you, but you didnât look up as he knelt by you, his concerned expression taking in yours.
   âHey, look at me,â Tim coaxed. â(Y/l/n), breathe.â
   He seemed miles and miles away. There was a pause.
   âHey, Boot, I got another test for you,â he spoke quickly, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. âI want you to tell me the most annoying person we work with.â
   âWhat?â You rasped, barely hearing him.Â
  âBishopâs an easy target,â he said. âAnd Lopez is a slob, so you canât go wrong there. Westâs got the whole daddy issues thing. Donât even get me started on Nolanââ
   You swallowed hard, your mouth feeling dry.
   âAnd then thereâs me. I mean, Iâm annoying right?â
   You breathed a shaky laugh, opening your eyes slowly.Â
   Tim smiled. âOh so you agree? Itâs ok, Boot, you can say me. Go ahead, I can take it.â
   When you didnât say anything, Tim kept talking. âPersonally Iâd go for Detective Coleman. The man makes double what I do and Iâm convinced he doesnât own a decent looking tie.â
   âL-like theâthe green one from last week,â you managed, trying to slow your breathing.
   âLeprechauns would call it tacky,â Tim agreed. âNow, since weâve discussed this from all angles Iâm going to need you to choose wisely. Because this is going to go on your evaluation for today.â
   You gulped. âAreâare you going to get me fired if I say you?â
   Tim let out a quiet, relieved laugh. âI knew it. Guess whoâs going back to long-sleeves on Monday?â
   âIn this heat wave? Youâyou wouldnât dare,â you joked, sniffing.
   âI donât know, I am the most annoying person you work withâsounds like something I might do.â
   You laughed again, this time the sound coming out less strained. You focused on taking deep breaths, feeling your heart rate return to normal.Â
   âThere you go.â Tim stood up, offering his hand to you for the second time that day. You gripped his arm as he pulled you up onto shaky legs.
   âThanks,â you mumbled, embarrassed to have had your TO see you like this now that your head was clearer.Â
   âFor what, doing my job?â
   You smiled weakly at him, running a hand along your forehead. âSorry for umââ Â
   âHaving a normal reaction to a highly emotional situation? Donât apologize for being human,â Tim said firmly, his forehead creased.
   âSo, heâs gone?â Youâre voice came out small.
   Timâs expression softened. âHeâs gone.â
   You nodded again, looking at the floor. Tim sighed, reaching an arm out. âCome here.â
You took a step towards him and then you were in his arms, his embrace strengthening you as he rubbed your back. You stood there like that, not wanting this to end. Not wanting to put distance between you again. Finally, he pulled back and looked down at you, his gaze weighted, before taking a few steps towards the door. You looked over Timâs shoulder.
   âHey, (Y/n), look at me.â Tim said. You brought your gaze up to meet his. âHe is never going to hurt you again, ok? Iâll make sure of that.â
   You let your eyes fall closed, feeling ashamed that you had been so affected. That Tim had to handle all of this for you. âI know. And Iâll understand if afterâŚall this, you donât see me fit toâto be a police officer anymore.â
   Timâs eyes hardened, his voice hardening with them. âWith all do respect, Boot, thatâs the stupidest thing youâve ever said. I meant every word of what I said back thereâyouâre a survivor. All I saw tonight is that you are a brave and intelligent woman who just so happens to have a scumbag of an ex-boyfriend. Donât let it define you because then he wins. Youâre a great cop, (Y/l/n). Itâs rookies like you who make the force as strong as it is.â
   You listened to Tim speak. He sounded soâŚpassionate. Bishopâs words came back to you.
   Tim might like you more than heâs willing to let youâor himselfâin on.
   You desperately wanted that to be true, now more than ever. Heâd been so kind to you in this past hourâstaying with you, rescuing you, reassuring you, bringing you back from whatever dark place you had just been in.Â
   And then this. Talking about you like heâŚlike he really cared about you. And maybe it was just because he felt like as your training officer he had to protect you. But in the moment, it felt like maybe it could be more than that.Â
  âSo what Iâm hearing is, Iâm getting a promotion?â You teased finally, brushing your hair back from your damp face, breaking the silence.Â
   Bradford put up a hand. âLetâs not get ahead of ourselves, you still have a lot to learn from me.â
   You sighed. This was normal, this was comfortable. How you and Tim always acted with each other. You were both relieved and disappointed at the change back into familiar territory.Â
   You ran a hand through your hair, stifling a yawn. Saying today had been a long day wouldâve been the understatement of the century.
   âNow come on,â Tim flicked his head in the direction of the door. âItâs way past my bedtime.â
   âLet me guess, nine p.m. sharp every night?â You teased.
   âThatâs not true.â
   You raised an eyebrow at him.
   âNine-thirty,â he admitted.Â
   You giggled, following Tim out of the bathroom and into the hallway which led to the living room.
   You glanced at your bedroom as you passed it, trying not to think about what had happened in there. It was over now, you told yourself.Â
   âSince my room is kind of a crime scene, I guess weâre both crashing out here,â you sighed, gesturing to the couch.Â
   Silence filled the room and you immediately realized your mistake, cheeks flaming.Â
   âOr, right, I guess you can go now. Dangerâs over.â
   âAre you kidding?â Tim said. âAnd get to bed even later? Iâm not going anywhere.â
   You stepped into the living room. You were glad Tim was staying. You felt safer with him here, even though you knew it was irrational.Â
   âIâll get the blankets and stuff,â you said, turning back the way youâd came.
   âLet me go with you,â Tim offered.
   âI would but theyâre in the closet and I donât want it to trap you or something,â you said.Â
   âYou think I canât take a closet full of your crap? Bring it on,â Tim challenged and you led him down the hall.Â
   A few minutes later you returned to the living room, blankets and pillows in tow. Tim helped you pull out the couch bedâyou were grateful youâd opted for this couch instead of a regular oneâand you stood back, admiring your work.Â
   âTake the couch,â you told him. âIt was your bed originally.â
   âNot gonna happen.â Tim crossed his arms. âItâs your house. And youâre injured.â
   âIâm fine. And where are you going to sleep? The floor?â You asked him.Â
   Tim scanned the room and then sat down on the chair across from the couch-turned-bed.Â
   âAre you sure youâre ok on that?â You asked. It didnât exactly look comfortable for spending hours on.
   âTrust me, Boot, you got the short end of the stick. Have fun sleeping on plywood.âÂ
   You smiled. âSo, what, youâre just going to sit over there and watch me sleep?â
   âI can leave, if youâreââ
   âNo,â youâre voice came out faster and more sharp than youâd intended. âI mean, you came all this way, I donât want you to have to get an Uber home at this hour.â
   You climbed into bed, aware that you were still in your clothes, but not caring enough to change.Â
   âWe should get some sleep, itâs been a long night,â Tim sighed. He got up and turned the lights off, darkness filling the room.Â
   âDamn, boot,â you heard Timâs voice even though you couldnât see him anymore. âItâs pitch black in here. You donât sleep with a light or anything?â
   âWell I donât usually sleep in my living room,â you pointed out. Then you stifled a laugh. âWait a minute. Is Officer Tim Bradford afraid of the dark?â
   Tim scoffed. âIâm not afraid of the dark.â
   âYour secretâs safe with me,â you teased.
   âThere is no secret,â Tim shot back.
   You winked. âExactly.â
   âYouâre impossible.â
   âThank you.â You smiled.
   The room fell silent. You heard him sit back down.Â
   You laid back, staring up at the ceiling. The seconds ticked by.Â
  âDo youâdo you think he really wouldâve shot me?â You asked, finally.
   âI donât know,â Tim admitted. âHe clearly thought you guys had unfinished business. But guys like that get high on fearâon desperation. He couldnât have that if you were dead. In his mind, heâd be losing his power over you.â
   He paused.Â
   âBesides, I donât think he wouldâve gotten the chance,â Tim said. âHe clearly underestimated the badass-ness of his opponent.â
   You snorted. âDid you just say âbadass-nessâ?â
   âItâs a word!â Tim defended.Â
   You laughed, turning over on your side.Â
   âBut seriously, if you ever need anything, you can always talk to me,â Tim said, sounding earnest. âI mean it.â
   âI may just take you up on that,â you responded. âDo you tell that to all your rookies?â
   You could barely make out Timâs frame in the dark. âNo, not all of them.â
   âIâm going to take that as Iâm special,â you said.Â
   Your next words were out of your mouth before you could stop them. Â
  âYou know, Lopez and Bishop had this crazy idea that you had feelings for me,â you said, staring up at the ceiling. âBut I told them it was just thatâcrazy.â
   Tim didnât speak.
   âIt is crazy right?â You asked. You had to know. He still was silent. âRight?â
   âBoot, lookââ Bradford started. His voice came out rough, as if he hadnât talked in days. Your heartbeat was a deafening roar in your ears.Â
   âTim?â
   You could hear more than see Timâs movements. He stood, pacing the length of the room. Sat back down. Stood up again. Sat.Â
   âDammit, Boot, I canât do this,â he finished. âI canât do this right now, (Y/n).â
   Your pulse quickened. He hadnât denied it.Â
   You stood up.Â
   And maybe it was having to deny your attraction to your TO for seven months. Maybe it was the adrenaline still coursing through your veins from the attack earlier. Maybe it was because the darkness felt safe and secretâmade you feel like you could do anything. Maybe you were just too eager after his small encouragementâor, lack of discouragement.
   But, whatever the reason, you walked over to where Tim sat, kneeled down, looked into his confused, strained eyes, and kissed him.Â
   Tim froze, his lips still against yours. And then, almost as if he was afraid you would vanish or startle, he placed his hand gingerly on your waist, and leaned into the kiss.
   And he was kissing you back. Tim Bradford was kissing you back.Â
   His free hand went to your hair, deepening the kiss as he gripped you closer. He kissed you like he had been waiting a lifetime.
   It was desperate and raw and passionateâit was perfect.
   You broke apart, both gasping for breath.   Â
   âListen, Boot,â Tim started. You watched his Adamâs apple bob as he swallowed. âYouâve had a long and confusing dayââ
   You interrupted him. âYeah. Yeah, I have. But Iâm not confused about this.â
   You brought your lips to his again. This time he didnât hold back. He pulled you closer to him and you felt the warmth of him through his shirt.Â
   When you came apart again, he was smiling.Â
   âWell, I guess I can check thinking that you hate me off my daily checklist,â you whispered.Â
   âI donât hate you, Boot,â Tim said. âI actually hate how much I donât hate you.â
   You studied the planes of his face, the light from the hallway illuminating his eyes. His lips. His jawline.
   âBootââ
   âIf youâre going to say that this is a bad idea, I donât want to hear it. Not tonight,â you said.Â
   âI thought that was obvious.â Tim stated matter-of-factly. âI was going to say actually Iâd appreciate it if you did turn on a lamp or something, becauseââ
   You laughed, kissing him again.Â
   âBut seriously,â Tim continued. âYou know we canât do this.â
   âWhy not?â You pouted. âIf itâs what we both want.â
   âItâs not about what we wantâwe could be putting both of our careers in jeopardy.â
   You knew he was right. Of course he was right.Â
   âBut is itâwhat you want?âÂ
   âGod yes,â Tim blurted, standing up, his voice strained. âItâs what Iâve wanted from the moment I started training you. Do you know how hard itâs been trying to put distance between us and deny every damn thing when all I wanted to do wasââ
   He broke off, running a hand along his hair.Â
   âThen do it.â Your heart pounded in your chest. âYouâll only be my TO for a few more months, weâll just keep it a secret until then. No one has to know.â
   Tim looked at you.Â
   âOk youâre right, Bishop and Lopez will totally know somethingâs up,â you admitted.
   âI guess Iâll just have to transfer,â Tim joked.
   âWhat happened to âTim Bradford finished what he startsâ?â You asked.
   âOh I intend to do just that,â Tim whispered. âAre we really thinking about doing this?â
   You thought about the consequences you could faceâTim could faceâif it got out that you and your training officer were romantically involved. You knew it would be a huge riskâone that could get you cut from the program.
   You looked at Tim. He was watching you like he never wanted to let you go again. You thought about how long youâd wanted this, even if you didnât fully know it until tonight.
   And the decision seemed clear.
   âYeah,â you beamed. âYeah I think we are.â
   He cupped your face in his hand, his fingers warm against the back of your neck. Your eyes closed against his touch. You felt comfort for the first time in hours.
   âYou need rest,â Tim whispered and your eyes fluttered open. âAs much as Iâd love to do this all night.â
   You nodded, backing up towards your bed. Tim ran a hand through his hair again and then sat back down in the armchair.
  âWhatâre you doing?â You asked him.
  âGoing to bed,â Tim answered, as if it was obvious.Â
  âGet over here,â you gestured, rolling your eyes at him.
  âI was hoping youâd say that,â Tim smiled.Â
   You climbed into bed beside him, pulling the covers over both of you.
   You lay your head on Bradfords chest. You could feel his heartbeat in your ear as you closed your eyes.  Â
  âYou know, this will kind of be like doing undercover workâminus the threat of getting killed,â you said.Â
   âI donât know about thatâI wouldnât put anything past an angry Sergeant Grey.â
   âWeâll just have to be so in-character that we never find out,â you said.Â
   âIâll make sure to be extra tough on you next shift,â Tim agreed.Â
   âAnd thatâs different from any other day how?â You shot back, sitting up.Â
   âHey, training rookies is a sacred duty and I take that very seriously. If you think Iâm going to throw your education out the window simply becauseââ
   You shut him up by pressing your lips to his. You echoed his earlier words. âI wouldnât dream of it.â
   Tim shook is head slightly, eyes roaming over your face.Â
   âWhat?â You asked.
   âYouâre so beautiful, (Y/n),â Tim breathed. âIâm so glad I can finally tell you that.â
   âMe too,â you said. âEven if it tookâŚthis for it to happen.â
   âSpeaking of which, maybe Iâll take a sick day tomorrow,â Tim said. âSince thereâs no way Greyâor myselfâis letting you go to work. Whatâd you say?â
   You wanted to fight him, say you were fine and you could make it to your shift the next day. But the promise of taking a sick day with Tim was to tempting to pass up.Â
   âI say Iâm glad your house is being repainted,â you teased. âBecause then youâll have to stay with me.â
   Tim smiled knowingly. âMy house isnât being repainted, Boot. And Iâm all yours.â
   You grinned, laying back down and resting your head back against Tim. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder.
   You felt safe, protected in his arms.Â
   The rest would come. Dealing with what had happened tonight. Starting your secret relationship with Tim. Eventually facing everyone at work who had heard the news and would want to ask if you were ok. And you would be ok.
   But for now, this was enough. He was enough.Â
   âTim?â You whispered.
   âHmm?â
   You struggled for words to fit the gravity of what you were feeling for him. âThanks forâŚeverything.â
   âWhat are TOs for,â Tim shrugged.Â
   âApparently keeping the night light business afloat.â You giggled at the look on Bradfordâs face.Â
   âShut it, Boot.â
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~âŚ~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
˰â˘*â⡠hope you enjoyed loves!! iâm so down bad for tim itâs not even funny đľâđŤ
#tim bradford#tim bradford x reader#the rookie#the rookie x reader#tim bradford x you#tim bradford x y/n#fanfiction#fanfic#reader insert#x reader#tim bradford x rookie!reader#eric winter#eric winter x reader
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touch starved reader with an oral fixation x kidnapper!Simon whoâs all punishment and no physical affection? Please Simon just a little kiss? with tongues? :( (i just wanna make out with this man while my heart aches for him)
by Allah, you people are dogs. i will write the filth as usual.
DEAD DOVE, 18+ | dubcon. kidnapping. mean!Simon. dom!Simon. masking corporal punishment as affection. kissing. size kink, size difference. some thigh riding. degradation + humiliation (verbal). non-con pet play. marking (heavyyyyyy mentions of Simon biting you like a chew toy). choking. daddy kink (but in the awful, demeaning way). manipulation. forced affection. coersion. forced/manufactured dependency. brief mention of Simon stepping on your back to hold you down so he can whip you w a cat o nine tails. yanno. the usual Friday night.
idk. there's something so hot about you, completely naked, riding Simon's clothed thigh as he holds you up by your neck. tongue out, desperate for a kiss while he just mocks you the whole time.
It's survival.Â
At first. Â
A means of masking the innate horror of being stripped of your agency, your autonomy, by a man you barely even know. One you met once before (fate sealed), and nowâoutside of your apartment complex where he was idling by the foothold, smoking a cigarette as he leaned against the brick wall, head turned. Gaze narrowed as you approached.Â
Waiting for someone, you assumed, thinking nothing else about the matter.Â
Nothing else, exceptâ
He looked familiar. You think you saw him before. He was staring at you. Hadn't stopped. Hasn't said a word, either. The silence was oppressive. Heavy. Your hands fumbled with the keys. Shaking. Trembling.Â
He's pretty, you thought, suddenly. In the way car wrecks can sometimes be. Jarring and awful and hideous, butâ
Mesmerising.Â
Macabre. And that's what he is. Everything from the mask on his face (skulls, go figure), to the absurdity in his size, his width. The way space itself seemed to move around him, bending and distorting just to let him pass. His own gravitational pull. Magnetic. You feel it tugging on you as he pulls another lungful of smoke. Another. Another. Â
(like an hourglass, a timebomb, almost. you wonder what will happen when it runs outâ)
He gives you the creeps. Suddenly. Unexpectedly. A visceral sense of unease curdling in the pit of your belly as he keeps staring, staring. Eyesâcrystalline under the broken headlamp, washout into crushed topazâdrilling into your back, sharp enough to flay skin. Everything inside of you says to run, but your key won't fit inside the lock. Won'tâ
Ever.Â
And hindsight has always been a bitter thing, hasn't it? Cruel in her mockery. Had you known, then, that he wasn't a workman loitering by the complex, waiting for a friend; or a low-level drug dealer casting webs into the plum hewn aether, it might have saved you. Might have.Â
Maybe. Because he was there, waiting for you, all along.Â
Life has a funny way of paying back good deeds. All it took for your life to crumble down around you, rubble falling off of a shaking mountain, was kindness. Was seeing a large man in the pouring rain, already drenched. Black clothing sticking to the granite contours of his body, and offering sanctum in the shape of a rusting umbrella you found at a thrift store for three dollars.Â
(âhere,â you said, chipper. All smiles. âi live just down the street, and you look like you need it more than i do. do you want it?â
and heâ
he simply stared. stared. his eyes liquid, molten, as they carelessly dropped, roaming down the length of your body at his own leisure. leering. assessing. it was odd. weird, butâ
he huffed, then. seemingly satisfied by whatever you measured up to in his head. his neck lulled back, and he gazed at you from down the crooked length of his nose, tucked neatly away under the thick band of a facial mask. skulls. how could you be so stupid?Â
slowly, like he was trying not to startle a mare, his gloved hand reached out, curling thick fingers around the hilt of it. he tugged once. in your stupor, you forgot to let go. embarrassment flooded in. he huffed again, quietly amused, as you untangled your numbed fingers from the umbrella.Â
in your distraction, he moved closer. smelled of ash, of mildew. sweat and stale cigarettes. there was something predatory in the way he slipped through space. a preternatural quiet. an eerie stillness.Â
you hadn't realised he was there, looming, until he rasped out, âmore ân you could ever realise, pet.â
and you're sure why you do it. did it. but your hand slips into your shopping bag, eyes widen. heart thundering in your chest.Â
âare you hungry? i, uh, i just bought some apples, umââ
his eyes are lavascapes. shackles. chains. âi could eat.â)
And nowâ
Forced to play this strange cat and mouse of his where he treats you like soot on the bottom of his shoe, and you pretend that it's affection. Love. How godless. Â
Protection, he calls it.Â
("mine," he whispers, orison soft, into your ear. "ain't go' nowhere else to go, do you, pet? world's big. would eat a small thing like you up. safer here. wit' me. only me.")Â
You wonder what he'd do if you told him the biggest danger here was the madness nestled inside your head, the one that sometimes made you look at him like he was your salvation instead of the warden holding the end of your leash in a firm hand. Unyieldingâlike everything he does. Is.Â
Withholding, too. Everything must be earned. Nothing given. Nothing handed out. And you know that this is a ploy, a tactic. Subterfuge meant to chisel into your sense of self, dehumanise you. Turn you into a simpering, obedient little doll for him to play with as he wishes. You know this, and yetâ
It's survival, you promise yourself as he tugs on the hook latched to your collar, testing it for weakness. Survival, when his handsâbare, bare; warmed skin against skin, you could just weepâbrush over your throat, nails skimming goosebumped flesh as he wedges one, then two inside, hirsute knuckles tickling your pulse. It tightens the collar to near choking. Intentional, you know. He likes it when you begâfor air, for food, water, him.Â
Vile man. Awful.Â
(You want to roll on your belly at his feet.)
This cold, cruel touch lights a fire under your skin. It's been months since he's last done so. Always wearing gloves when he has to. Using paddles, belts, when you misbehave. Never his bare hand. Not anymore.Â
(âmâhand is for good girls,â he slurred, words merging, meshing together, painted with exertion. He wedged his boot against the small of your back, holding you down, and cracked the end of a cat over your bare ass, thighs. Unbothered by your howls, your screams, as the whip bit into your skin. You've never so much as been hit as a child for misbehaving, and now, as an adult, you have a madman standing over you, introducing you to something called a cat oânine tailsâa favourite in the army, lovie. âbad girls,â his boot pressed down harder, heel digging into your spine. âBad girls get the whipââ)
Bad. Bad. Because you tried to run, to leave him. He dressed you up, called you Mrs Riley, and youâ
Ducked out the back door when he turned away for a second.Â
Stupid. It was poor timing. A test. He set you up, measuring your loyalty to him, your commitment, and you failed. Failed.Â
(âthis is what âappens when spoiled little cunts get their way too much. they act out, don't they? bitinâ the âand that feeds. you'll learn soon enough, thoughââ)
Ghostâsir, sir (master, maker, god; you'll call him anything he wants if he touches you again)âpulls his fingers away, depriving you of his touch once more. And it's all so stupid. So fundamentally wrong, deplorable, but you follow. Needy. Whining for it in the back of your throat.Â
It's been months. Months without touch. Without sensation outside of leather lashing across your thighs, your ass; harsh, gloved fingers digging into your jaw, braced against the back of your head, as you swallow down his cock in an effort to prove to him you've been good. So good. Can be good. His good girl.Â
You need to touch him. Need his touch. Ache for it, for something outside of this nook he placed you inside of, denied the privilege of living upstairs with him after you tried to escape.Â
You want to. Badly. Your fingers twitch. Ghost sees it. Hums.Â
âNeed somethin', pet?âÂ
Your mouth is dry. You swallow. It burns. It hurts. âYesââ
âYes, what?â
âSirââ
Behind the mask he's yet to take off for you fully, only ever hitching it under his chin to devour your cunt whenever you've been good, his jaw tightens, the fabric bunching up.Â
You reel back from the look of sheer displeasure etching harsh lines into the hollow gaps of his eyes. Heart thundering. Stomach churning.Â
âMasââ he cuts you off with a soft sigh. Marked with his irritation. âDâdadââ
Dad. A new one. Daddy. He didn't seem like the sort to be into this type of play, not with his sardonic, deadpan eyes. His mockery. His dessicated humour, awful and biting. You'd have sooner expected him to laugh at youâin that slow, deep hum he gives; a little chuff, full of condescension and jeerâthan to get off on it. On you, kneeling between his legs with your chin braced against his palm, mouth open, tongue out, as he fucks into the tight clench of his fist, groaning as you beg daddy to give you a taste.Â
It's gross. Disgusting.Â
It's not done for anything else other than to humiliate you. To crush you under the heel of his bootâlittle bugâso that you will always know where your place is in this scenario. His little wife. Mother, mumâ
He pulls on the leash, jerking you forward. Purrs, âgood girl,â and then steps back, moving away from you. Cruel. Dismissive. You hate him, hate himâ
(Need him so deeply. With every fibre of your beingâ)
You watch him as he goes, mourning the loss of his presence already, as he paces around your space, your cage. Broad shoulders barely fitting inside. Head ducking to avoid hitting his crown on the popcorn ceiling. It's strange seeing him here like this. Prowling. He usually comes when he wants you, when he needs to enact more merciless punishment on you for whatever perceived evils you committed (not greeting him with a kiss when he walked in, not letting him suffocate himself in your cunt when he had you sit on his face, not making him cum all over your face quick enough when you knew he had other engagements to get toâ), or when he ruts, heavily, between your thighs, cold and detached. Seeking pleasure from your icy flesh, and giving nothing in return but white hot agony.Â
Him here, idling in your presence, is revolutionary.Â
âSâsirâ?â
He hums, quiet. Sits in the chair as you gather the fragments of yourself littered on the ground. His mood is malleable, it seems.Â
You push, fingertips sinking into the putty of his agreeable temperament. âCan Iââ
You waver when his sharp eyes raze over your bare bodyâclothes are for good girls, after allâpupils sloshing over the edges, bleeding into midnight blue.Â
Your body is a battlefield. Every inch of skin branded with his markâpretty, thrawn rings of teeth tattooed in silver, haloed in black and red, desecrate your flesh: neck, collarbones, breasts, belly, thighs (a particular favourite of his), ass, mons; all bitten through, chewed up. It weeps when you move, has blood trickling down your skin. The cracking scabs make him coo, poor thing, all bloody fer me? and he licks at them, sucks, until only a pinkish wound in the mimesis of canines remains.Â
Uprooted, turned into something newâ
His chest expands when he settles his gaze on the sliver of space between your spread thighs. Concealed in tenebrous, hidden from his leering, lecherous view. He cocks his head, considers something unknown to you. His thoughts, his mind, worlds away. Untouchable.Â
(only to bad girls, heâd snarled out when you asked whyâ)
âTestinâ my patience still?â He doesn't rip his gaze away from your cunt, speaks to it sometimes more than he speaks to you. âThought this alone time mightâa cleared your âead.â
You flush. Embarrassment roiling through you. His displeasure is a palpable thing. Heavy. You hate the weight of it.Â
âI needâI need you.â
Another toneless hum. ââCourse you do. Ain't got anyone else.â
He's awful. Hideous. You want to rip his tongue out of his mouth. âIâI want you. Please.â
Ghost doesn't answer. You stopped expecting him to a long time ago, his moods odd measures of ebbs and flows; passive and mild, cracking terrible, awful jokes as he strokes your back, hands riveted to your skin, and then biting and caustic the next. Pushing and pushing until you lash out, snap, so he has a reason to push you down, punished and smothered under his bulk, as he ruts into you like a beast, a man starved. Tells you it's for your own good. That you need him. Would be lost without him.Â
Bludgeoning a hole into you wide enough for him to crawl inside of. Poisoning you from the inside out with the same nocuous rot that flows in his veins.Â
Maybe that's been his agenda all along. Maybe. To make you want him as badly as he wanted you. Desperate, obsessive. Going so far as to follow you home, lost little mutt waiting in the shadows outside of your door until you threw him another bone. And when that didn't work, when the food stopped being enoughâ
He took you. Held you captive in his house deep in the wilderness. A place so endlessly green that you sometimes stare out at itâunfathomable sea of phalthos and jasperâand feel dizzy. You'll get lost out thereâ
just like he says.Â
As he turns your obsecration over in his head, you wait, supplicant to this man as you rest on your knees. Pretty pet with a golden collar adorned in gems.Â
Fitting, you find. With his head cradled against his thick knuckles, you can't help but shiver at the way he looks shrouded in the gloaming embers of a fading twilight. Leonine. A king perfectly at ease in this thick, caliginous atmosphere.
His eyes burn, magmatic, in the low light. Vats of endless ink. Black holes that will swallow you whole if you get too close. But he's poised. Contemplative. Assessing.Â
And then grips the end of the leash tight in his other hand. Tugs. Â
You obey the wordless command, crawling on your hands and knees to where he's spread out on the recliner. Laxed, dripping with a careless indifference as you wander to him, resting your chin on the spread of his knee.Â
Looking up, up, at him, waiting. Wanting.Â
There's so much of himâa fact that has been the catalyst to your downfall the moment you saw him standing under the awning; this massive creature. Thighs wider than the width of your body. Burly forearms. Broad shoulders. He's big. Indomitable. Thick, endlessly so. But there's a give to his body. Valleys of softness hiding corded muscle. Firm, butâ
Your fingers sink into the soft give of his belly when you reach out, bracing against stomach. Pulling yourself further into the bracket of his spread thighs, inching closer to him.Â
He meets your reverent stare, eyes liquid along his lower lash line.
âThought you were gonna keep me waitinâ all night,â he muses, giving another pull on the leash. It destabilises you. Your nose bumps into his sternum, and you moan at the sting.Â
There's a dissonance in the back of your head. A hairline fracture in the line that keeps a degree of separation between pleasure and pain. They meet against the crack in the divide, merging into a abysmal polyphony conducted by his hand.Â
He watches, amused, as you whimper, sniffing harshly against the burn. It's not bleeding, and not brokenâsmall mercies, you supposeâand you let it simmer into a dull ache as you slowly clamber into his lap.
Ghost leans back as you settle, greedily taking in the sight of your thighs stretched wide over his leg, cunt pressed, tight, against the rough scrape of his jeans. The touch burns. He hasn't touched your pussy in weeksâ
âCâmon,â he urges, hand spanning the width of your lower back. Coaxing. âShow me âow good you can be.â
It's all the permission you need. Slowly, slowly, your hips start to gyrate, dragging your slit over the coarse material. The friction is agony. You need moreâ
He draws his other hand up, curls it around your neck, forcing your head back, back. You gasp, staring at him, dizzy, from down the slope of your nose. The clasp of the collar digs into your skin. It hurts. It's too much.Â
you don't want him to stop.Â
His hand is huge. It spans the entire length of your neck, thumb to your pulse, pinky grazing the hollow of your throat. It forces you to lift your chin higher just to let him fit.
He likes it, too, you know. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of his bare hand, scarred and thick; dusted with a cropping of fine hairs along his scabbed knuckles, sitting against the whole of your throat. Swallowing you up. Can feel how much he enjoys the sheer depth between your sizes when his cock twitches, stiffening more
The look on his face is appraising, anatomising. There's a cold measure of distance in his gaze. A barren polynya. You want to cross it. Chart these untamed lands until they're deeply ingrained within your being. Cimmerian effigy burning to keep you warm.Â
It's survival, you think, and arch into the palm of his hand.Â
He holds you like a doll. One hand on your lower back, pressing your cunt to thigh. The other tightening around your throat. Bare skin against bare skin, and oh, you could just cryâ
But this is not what you need. What you want. And he knows. He always does. Knows the inside of you like it's written downâinked on paper. Thumbs through the makeup of you, chapter by chapter, until no mystery remains.Â
âTell me what you need, pet. Beg for it.âÂ
âLet meââ his hands tighten, choking the air from your throat. Crushing your collar against your neck. âLemmeâkiss you, please, pleaseââ
Tighter. Tighter. The world around you swims under a thin ocean. Phosphenes swim, untethered, in your periphery, ghosting along the curve of his shoulders. He might kill you yet. Keeping going, going, until those brittle, bird-like bones in your neck snapâ
You'd let him, you think, muscles falling lax. Submissive. Just the way he says he likes even though you know he fucks you harder, touches you more, more, when you act out. Misbehave.Â
âKiss me?â He taunts, words abrasive. Strident. Scrubbing hard against your skin. âAin't that jusâ the sweetest thing I ever âeard.âÂ
You burn, blister. âPleaseââ
âReckon I ought to. Kissed your pretty cunt âfore I even kissed your lips, huh, pet?âÂ
Your chest folds over itself. Stomach knotting. Balling tight. Unease is a razor blade scraping your nerves.Â
âSimonââ
âAh, ahââ his hand tightens. Vicious. Chiding. âYou âavenât earned the privilege of sayinâ my name, âave you? Cheeky thing. Might âave to take a cane to you next.âÂ
âNo, no, noâ! I'mââ
âSorry?â He mocks, cocking his head. Condescension drips from the corners of his eyes.Â
âPlease, sirââ
âDad is gettinâ tired of this attitude of yours, petââ his fingers dig into your skin, hard. Biting. A warning, you know. The blunt press of a blade to your jugular. But it thrums along the suture line to your desire, a wellspool of murk coiling low in your guts. You throb, cunt clenching down around nothing. Achingly empty. âThought we got rid of it this time âround. Learned our lesson.â
The words are frank, prosaic. Had you any sense of self still malingering in the back of your head, you might have struck him for the blatant disrespect. But as you struggle to reach for it, pawing around in the vacuous abyss for any fragment of who you were before this, before him, you knowâwithout any doubtâthat none exists. Nothing. Heâs too ingrained in your marrow, hewn into your skin. Copper sutures holding his filament within you. Cradled between your thighs, nestled in the rotting vacancy of your heart.Â
He knows you. Every partâ
âWe didâwe did, daâdaddy, pleaseââÂ
Itâs shallow. Muffled, like heâs trying to swallow it down, but you feel it rumble through his broad chest. A guttural sound. A groan. Drenched in pleasure, in want. So thick, you could almost taste it.Â
He hides his need under a layer of derision.Â
âSuch a needy thing, ain't you? Desperate little slag like you wouldn't last out there, would you?âÂ
His hand digs into your hip, pushing you off of his thigh. Eyes skewering into the wet stain on his trousers. A huff spills outâthe sound a near perfect mimicry of crushing charcoal in your hand.Â
âNo. You'd be eaten alive. Torn to pieces. World's too big for somethin' like you.â
Mindless, dazed, you nod. Arching into him. The leather leash snaps against your chest. âYes, yesââ
His cock presses into your thigh, hard, fat. Your mouth waters. Drool dribbles down your chin.Â
He smells of tinder when he leans in close, blood drenched words biting into your skin. âmessy today, aren't you? Be lost without me. Thaâs why you wear a collar, isn't it?â
Pitifully, you nod. Eyes full of tears. Each word is a bludgeon into your resolve. Into your sense of self.Â
But it earns you his affection, and his thumb presses into the corner of your mouth, unhinging your jaw until it falls open, lax. He holds you like that, mouth lax with his hand still around your neck. The other lifts away from your lips, goes to the thick band around the bridge of his nose, slips inside.Â
There's no buildup to it. No lingering sense of anticipation. Practical, detached, he merely tugs it down, and lets it snap under his chin.Â
Your breath is punched out of your lungs at the sight of him. Barefaced. Scarred. His nose is crooked; a jagged hook with scar tissue delineating the spots where it's been broken too many times. His lips areâ
Full.Â
Mangled.Â
Scars run in thick slashes over them, denting the flesh in places. Burn marks line his pale flesh. Charcoal rubs into his eyes, highlighting the whites of his lashes against smeared soot.Â
He'sâ
Pretty.Â
Like a car crash. Calamity. The broken remains of a town after a hurricane, a tornado, ripped it apart. Ugly, brutal. His face looks like it's been mauled by a bear, a tiger. Scarred and hideous, andâ
You shiver. His eyes drop, landing on your own lips. The soot on his brow flutters down, lands on his eyelashes when he lifts his brow up mockingly. Derision curdling an awful smirk on the corner of his mouth. Crooked. Like him. Like his teeth. His nose. His boxy jaw. His lipsâ
You kiss him.Â
Can't help yourself, really. There's a pull. Gravitational. Magnetic. You need, need, to taste him. To quench this ache in your jaw that makes you want to wrap your tongue around something, play with it between your teeth. Soft and sweetâ
Ghost's lips are plump beneath yours. The thick scar tissue is almost velveteen when it glides over your bottom lip. You moan into it, into the feeling; victoryâhowever pyrrhicâswims like mercury in your veins. Finally.Â
And he doesn't kiss you back. Doesn't make any effort to reciprocate at all, but he's not tense beneath you. Not stunned. Or reluctant. Heâs pliant. Malleable. Agreeable, willing to let you devour his mouth, his taste, as much as you want. Doting. Letting you spoil yourself on him. With him.
Because you need him, don't you?Â
Like the air you breathe. The food he gives youâapples, always, on rainy days; salmon and rice in a pretty bowl with your name etched into the porcelainâand the attention, the affectionâ
(suck my cock, pretty girl. don't make me put a gag on youâdeeper, you can take it, can't you? take my fat cock all the way up inside your sweet little cuntâmy pretty girlâ)
âitâs all so divine.Â
His hands on your body, your throat, spasm. Once. Just once. Against your leg, his cock twitches. Leaks prespend into the demin. You rut against his thigh, aching for it. Whimperingâ
And then he's groaning into the kiss, snarling out your name until it wedges between your lungs, syphoned in from his scorching breath. Another brand in the shape of him.Â
Ghost kisses the same way he eatsâmessy, sloppy; all teeth and tongue, and full pretty lips. Clumsy, like no one taught him how to properly hold his silverware and he's trying to mock what he saw on television. Brumish. A broken, contemptuous pastiche of sumptuosity. A starving dog, snarling around its plundered morsel. Protective. Possessive.Â
It coils around you. Thick, smothering.Â
He sucks your tongue into his mouth, catching it between his teeth. The sting brings tears to the corner of your eyes, and when you pry them open, you find him already staring at you (always, always, alwaysâ), lidded. Heavy pools of desire shaded in the brume of a winter dawn. A bonfire flickering in the distance of a whiteout. Sanctuary from the coldâ
He seems to catch himself. Expression flickering. Warbling around the edges. It closes off in a blink. He pulls back. Locks into the ashlar veneer of this indifference he wears like a suit of armour.Â
But you saw it. It was there. Within reachâ
âNeed me, don't you?â He drawls, timber a needlepoint between cruelty and desire. Sultry, low. Husky. He knows what it does to you. How he can unravel you at the seams with just his voice alone. âNeed me so fuckinâ much, pet. Would be lost without meââ
âPlease, Simon,â you whisper, feather-soft. Cunt throbbing, pulsing. Needy. âPleaseââ
The strident reprimand for using his name doesn't come. His hand tightens around your throat, unconscious. A paroxysm that has pleasure carving itself down your spine, electric.Â
âCome get it, then,â he rasps, voice wrecked. Raw. Curling at the edges, thickening his accent until the words elide.Â
Hand to your throat, he drags you close. Closer still. Keeps you sat pretty on his lap as he pulls you in for a bruising, hungry kiss. Tongue shoving between your teeth when you gasp.
His kisses are always hungry, but this is different. Greedy. He devours you whole. Eats you alive. His hand falls to your lower back, holding you tight to his chest.
You moan into it, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. Squeezing until your knuckles blanche, joints twinging in discomfort.Â
After months of nothing, this alone is bliss. His taste soaking onto your tongue, drenching it in the bitter tang of sage, wheatgrass, and stale cigarettes. Intoxicating. It leaks into you, nocuous. Infects from the inside out.Â
His plan coming to fruition, you think. What he sought out to do all along, ever since you wandered close to this untameable Tartarean guard, and offered yourself up to the jowls of a starving beast.Â
He pulls away with a heavy breath, eyes charing around the edges; brittle briquette.Â
âGonna be a good girl from now on? Come upstairs, be a good mum for dad? Or am I gonna âave to cane thisââ his hand drops, grabbing a fistful of your ass in his hand, fingers digging into the skin between your cheeks. Possessive. It cracks like a whip down your nerves. ââtight litâle arse?â
You shake your head instantly. Quickly. âI'll be good,â you whisper into his chin, tongue flicking out to lick across his scars. The dried sweat on his skin tastes briny. Reminds you of the ocean on a brumous November evening. The incipient yawn of a ravenous hurricane gathering its lot on the shore.Â
Sirens blare in the distance. Fear curdles in your guts, sits heavy like a stone. An anchor.Â
âSo sweet fâme,â he mutters, words deepening as his head falls back, letting you pepper kisses across the underside of his jaw. Mouthing along the constellation of scars. His voice is rumble. It shivers across your lips, tongue. Shakes the marrow in your bones. âBetter stay this way, pet.â
Into his pulse, you murmur, âI think you like it better when Iâm bad.âÂ
You can feel the snarl brimming in the back of his throat. Your ass stings with the phantom burn of when he lashed out with the whip. It drags a whimper out from deep within your chest.Â
His hand tightens around your neck. A warning. âGot some guests over fâdinner tonight. Would love to finally introduce them to my sweet little wifeââ deft fingers slip across the dewy skin of your folds, knuckles grazing over your drenched hole. The touch makes you squirm. âBut if youâre gonna be bad, then Iâll leave you locked up down âere.â
âIâll be good,â you swear, words a hushed breath over his jugular. His finger flattens, drawls soft, slow circles around your clit. âAh, IâllâIâll be so, so good, Simonââ
âGood girls deserve rewards, donât they?â His palm flexes possessively around your throat when you nip at old scar tissue. âMaybe Iâll let you sleep in our bed tonight instead of in your dog house. We can âouse together. Iâll fuck you properââ he roughly shoves two fingers into your hole, leering when you gasp, back arching in a bow. âKnow this pretty pussy has been achinâ for me, âasnât it? Gonna breed it fullââ
Thereâs static in your head, ringing in your ear. The noise distorted, pulled underwater. You think you say something, pleadâno, no, no, anything but thatâbut his hand tightens around your throat, fingers pushing up, up into you, notching against that spot inside that makes your head swim, your vision flicker. The abyssal chasm inside of you aches, rages; its waters swell, currents frothing, slamming against the ceiling of its iron prison, andâ
Simon pulls away. Fingers stilling inside of you. No friction, no relief. Hypoxia renders the world silent. Muted. Held in stasis, stagnating at the edge of a gaping precipice he holds you over, secured by the fragile curve of your neck, fine bone china.Â
Phosphenes swim by. The chossy wobbles.
This distance is agony. You need to be closer, closer, to crawl inside of him, to live in the brackets of his ribs, safe and protected from the world he warns you about. Stone cold. You mewl, whineâ
âGonna be my good little wife?â
Gasping with broken lungs, you nod. Nod, nod until youâre nauseous. Dizzy. Sickâ
His spit cools on your lip. Your hackles raise, body shuddering in revulsionâsome primal part rears, hisses itâs infectious. Wrong. Get rid of itâ
âNot gonna run?â
Slowly, you lick your lips, catching his sickness on your tongue. Swallowing it down until it sinks like a stone to the bottom of your belly. Heavy, for such a small, damning thing.Â
How absurd, you think. How absolutely mad.Â
Then you whisper, paperthin, âkiss me again, please, Simonââ
And he moves. Liquid in the gloam. Made more for shadows, midnight, than for golden apricity, where the light is harsh on his face, unveiling ruins and ravines; monoliths meant to be paid tribute to in the dark. Your hands lift to his jaw when he moves in, catching your lips in a bruising, biting kiss.Â
His touch is searing. Owning. He isn't laying claim: no, you're already his.Â
It's possessive and angry. No finesse. All slate teeth and tender tongue. They slide together in a strange game; little fawn stupidly nipping at the tiger's heel. He lets you, groaning into your mouth when you arch back, hips pushing into his fingers, taking him deeper. A pale pantomime of what's to come when he lays you on his soft bed, sweet and divine, and buries himself deep.Â
It should scare you. Ought to. And maybe it does. Survival, you think, but you still pull him closer. Deeper. Because itâs bliss, you find. The world around you falling dead. Silent. Pulled into a vacuum. Teetering on the edge of a black hole, event horizon. He drags you in.Â
Simon hums, pulling you closer. Touching youâsoft, sweet. Palms a gyve. Shackles, chains. His fingers lift from your neck, trailing down the slope of your throat until he reaches the golden loop of your collar's hook. His gaze glides, magmatic, down to where your leash dangles between your heaving breasts.
It's almost tender when he grabs it into his fist. When he pulls, pullsâ
Your back arching. His fingers slipping deeper inside your cunt. Obedient little doll.
When he lifts his eyes, the look you find is hot enough to char bone. You taste blood in the back of your throatâ
Into the seam of your mouth, he purrs, âgood girl.â
âand you swallow it down with a moan.Â
(after all, you know better than to run from starving dogsâ)
#when your kidnapper is mean and rude as hell but you've been dtf since day one: the manifesto#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#i forget where i put peoples hands sometimes and then have to go back and remind myself where everyone's at lmao#hope you enjoyedddddddddddd#i'm gonna go pour myself a glass of bleach bye#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#cod#ghost#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#ghost x you#ghostdrabbles
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đđđđđ <3
Side note can we talk about how this version of Viktor and hexcore (rainbow) Viktor are the best versions of him? Did bro say Glorious Ovulation because holyyyyyyyyyyyy 0///0
đžđđđ§đđđŠđđ§: Viktor my beloved <3
đđŞđ˘đ˘đđ§đŽ: Just general romantic/some NSFW headcanons for my favorite boy. You can picture these with whichever Viktor you want (I guess), but I feel S1 Viktor fits best.
đžđ¤đŁđŠđđŁđŠ đđđ§đŁđđŁđ: NSFW themes (edging, eating out, praise kink on both sides if you squint, public sex fantasies), AFAB reader (mostly intended to be fem! reader but I'll be extra careful for my nonbinary/ftm friends)
đđ¤đ˘đđŁđŠđđ đđđđđđđŁđ¤đŁđ¨
First off, I wholeheartedly believe in asexual/gay Viktor, and I am 100% a JayVik shipper, but a girl can also dream that he's bisexual with a male preference. It's a stretch, I know.
That's what we get for liking our men fruity.
Absolutely adores acts of service (his favorite), but physical touch (like the forehead touch that zaunites do, and other subtle movements) and verbal reassurance are things that make him feel appreciated.
Not huge on displaying his affections anywhere but in private. Nobody would even know that you guys are together and he likes it that way. He already has enough eyes on him, though they're mainly on Jayce.
Not big on names either, and idk if Czech exists in the LoL universe (as saddening as it is). He sticks with mentioning you as his "partner," though a "love" will sometime slip out when the two of you are alone.
"Can you please pass me those notes, my love?" "Do you need any help, love? You look... frustrated." "My cane is all the way across the room, can you please bring it to me, my love?"
You have to try your damnedest to either get into his lab to see him or to get him to turn in for the night. He reasons that this research is vital to his well-being, but so is rest. It usually doesn't work, so you at least bring him something to eat/drink.
I look at that man and think "pathetic twink," but with his attitude/personality, I can actually see him as more of a dominant figure in a romantic relationship. He is very sassy, he is assertive, and he is blunt. He doesn't look like he'd be like that, so it's a welcome surprise.
Generally a patient partner and is perfectly fine with slow-moving relationships. Actually, he prefers them. Not only does he enjoy the feeling of quiet, calm yearning, but he sees no reason for turbulence if one is trying to create a lifelong connection (which is what he generally looks for).
Viktor is all-around really thoughtful, and even when you don't think he's listening, he'll remember the events of your day with perfect accuracy and even the food you mentioned eating this morning. Even the way you phrase things, he has sharp memory and is very considerate and attentive.
đđđđ đđđđđđđŁđ¤đŁđ¨
I headcanon that he is 100% a virgin
Switch, but top leaning. Let me explain.
Just as I said he was more dominant in romantic relationships, once he is comfortable with a partner, he also becomes more sexually dominant as well. This might take him a while but I SWEAR it's worth it.
Limited mobility hinders a lot of things he wishes he could do (he'd be more experimental if not for it). He sometimes psychs himself out and gets a little worried that he's leaving you unsatisfied.
His back specifically makes it hard for him to completely bend or move around, so heâs often either sitting or laying down. (Also suffers whenever he arches his back out of pleasure)
Please tell this man heâs perfect or even sufficient the way he is, compliment his waist/back, his thin face, his thin frame, anything he is insecure about. He secretly loves this, and he has an inferiority complex due to his many ailments and his social status (as he is still from Zaun.)
More of a giver than a receiver, he takes more pleasure in feeling your fingers in his hair while he overstimulates you with his tongue. Very skilled for someone who has NEVER done that stuff.
He is such a sweet dom, mostly ever lets out whimpers and small moans, as well as pure, sweet compliments, or the very rare tease. However, if you ever hear him curse under his breath, you know it's good.
Prettiest fucked-out expression EVER, eyes rolled back, head thrown back, back arching, the whole shabang.
Mainly has you riding him, his face, etc. One time he told you that you didn't need to hover and it was okay for a LITTLE but then he found it difficult. He still loves to have you fully seated while he works his magic.
Into edging and is really cheeky about it. He'll make the most smug expressions while eating you out or... rather, stopping before you finish. Part of him likes seeing you struggle, it's funny to him.
Absolutely communication driven, but gets a bit more confident as the relationship progresses. He doesn't want to overstep, and wants to know what you want/don't want, but will make use of that knowledge later.
Cannot be coerced out of work with sex. Thanks for trying. Maybe when he gets home, but he's usually either sleeps at the lab or is too sleepy at home. It is an unwelcome distraction and it genuinely frustrates him.
Speaking of the lab, he does feel really flustered and ashamed to admit that he has fantasies about you sitting on the desk and him going at it-- tongue, dick, all of it. It isn't a huge thing for him, but it pops into his head every once in a while.
11/10 aftercare, though you wish your already debilitated partner wouldn't try to rush around after he exerted himself so much. He rushes around to get you cleaned up, make you tea, all of it. He insists on doing things for you first.
I hope I fed the Viktor enjoyers, I love you guys and hope you're doing well after the events of S2. Stay strong Viktor nation, and as for Jayce...?
Jaybe.
This is my first Arcane headcanon post and definitely not my last. :D
Thanks for reading! Rosey <3
âĄMASTERLIST HEREâĄ
â¸Â Written by Rosey, please do not copy/repost/translate.âĄ
#fanfiction#viktor arcane#viktor league of legends#viktor x reader#afab reader#female reader#writing#arcane#arcane x reader#arcane x female reader#arcane headcanon#arcane smut#viktor my beloved#I'm in love with a rockin twink who would under no circumstances ever like me back </3#arcane jesus#twink jesus#smut headcanons#smut fanfic#fanfic#headcanons post#headcanon
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Unnatural Affinity- Part 4
Isekai!Reader x Love and Deepspace

wc: ~2.4k
cw: angst, flirty rafayel but heâs suspicious, em and reader argue but make up, reader wears a dress, existentialism, neroâs at the beginning and heâs really shy, implied stalking, existentialism part 2, envy, idk reader is having a crisis in every part i feel like you know the drill by now
Synopsis: Youâre getting used to life in Linkon, used to the Hunterâs Association working alongside Nero, used to coming home with Em. Youâre slightly panicked about your interactions with Zayne and Xavier, but as long as you donât meet any other Love Interests, it should be fine, right? Just one problem: you and Em were invited to a certain artistâs newest exhibit, and he seems interested in something more than explaining his vision.
authorâs note: I love writing Rafayel so much heâs so fun! Iâm really looking forward to the next part with a certain crow. Iâm trying to slowly escalate things, am I doing a good job? Eh, weâll see. Iâm trying not to pit Em and Reader against each other but I also have to create some sort of tension between them for it to make sense soooo oh well. I still donât know how many parts this will be or how Iâm gonna end it :( let me know if yâall have any ideas, ending or just random plot points! You can send an ask or leave a comment <3
tag list: @animegamerfox @ixloom819 @magennta09 @an-ever-angry-bi @corvid007 @vigtore @ph1lo-s0ph1a @ameili @babyx91 @sadsaidthesadthing @bidisasterforevermore @liz9898 @iconoclastoc @elegantdeerlady @lifumi @auraficial @plzdonutpercieveme @dolledbunnytail @junebuggz @mangooes @anatherone @skulzooka @yuhuahuaaa
Series Masterlist
âHey, Nero, what do you think of this dress?â You turned your phone around to show him a picture of you in a flattering navy dress. It showed more of your body than the clothes you frequently wore to the Association, which clearly caught Nero by surprise given the dusting of pink on his cheeks.
âUh, itâs veryâŚâ he stuttered as his cheeks grew redder and redder. He finally glanced away from you and the picture. âYou look very pretty,â he muttered.
You turned the phone back around, looking at the picture yourself. âDo you think itâs alright for a fancy art exhibit? I donât want to look out of place,â you explained.
Nero shook his head softly. âYou look perfect.â His eyes widened. âI mean, itâs perfect! I didnâtâ I wasnâtâ Iâm not flirting with you!â He dropped his face into his hands. âIâm sorry.â His words were muffled.
You laughed, causing him to turn his head and peek at you through his hands. âItâs alright, Nero. And thank you.â You smiled, and he looked back away. You stood up, ruffling his hair as you walked away. âYouâre so cute, Nero.â You heard him make a small squeak of surprise before you shut the door.
Quickly making your way through the Hunterâs Association, you dodged carts and hunters in different sections. Research, medic, combat, until finally you reached the rows of desks and cubicles belonging to the Hunters.
The layout of the Hunterâs Association was much harder to learn than your apartment. Which made sense, of course. An entire corporation is obviously more complex than a simple two bedroom apartment.
It was unnecessarily complicated, though, you thought. Research was so secluded from the rest of the employees, and the setup for Hunters was so messy. You understood that they werenât at their desks often, instead off on missions, but it was still ridiculous.
Luckily, Emâs desk was easy to find; Just look for the smaller claw machine plushies she proudly displayed. Catching sight of Artsy Birb, you weaved through desks and Hunters alike before standing in front of Em. You drummed your fingers on her desk, waiting for her to finish typing before you spoke. When she stopped and looked at you, you took it as your cue.
âSo, about this art exhibit tonight,â you began.
âOh, yeah!â Em smiled. âI think it starts at around eight oâclock. Something about the night emphasizing the beauty of the art or whatever.â She waved her hand carelessly. âWe can get dinner before hand! Itâs been a while since we had a fancy night out,â she said excitedly.
You grinned. âAlright, but I donât know if I can afford too fancy.â
âI know,â Em groaned. âOur humble huntersâ salary can barely get us our dresses for tonight.â She rolled her eyes.
âDo you think we need to leave early? How far away is this exhibit?â you asked.
Em shrugged noncommittally. âIt shouldnât take too long. I donât think weâll need to leave early.â
It was 6:00 by the time you left the Association.
It took the both of you around an hour to get ready despite rushing.
It was 7:20 by the time you left the apartment.
âI knew we should have left earlier,â you muttered.
Em scoffed. âWell, why didnât you say anything?â
âYouâre the one who knew where we had to go!â Your hands tightened against the steering wheel. âWhy wouldnât I trust your judgment?â
Em huffed, looking out the passenger window. âI guess it doesnât matter now.â
You sighed, making another turn. Em looked at you hesitantly, A few minutes passed in silence.
âIâm sorry!âshe blurted out.
You glanced at her out of the corner of your eye. âI am, too,â you agreed.
âNo, you were right. I shouldnât have gotten mad.â
âI shouldnât have yelled.â
âYou had every right to, though.â Her shoulders slumped. âDo you hate me now?â She looked to you with wide eyes.
âNo,â you murmured. âBonds canât be so easily broken.â
The crash of waves could barely be heard over the loud chatter of the exhibition. Moonlight poured in from the windowed ceilings, casting an ethereal light on the paintings displayed.
When youâd first arrived, you hovered around Em. You let her take control of social situations like she always did, offering polite smiles and nods whenever you were briefly addressed. Although she didnât know much about art, she certainly knew people. She gracefully navigated each interaction, and you felt like you were scrambling to catch up, trying to not be left behind.
You werenât sure when exactly youâd gotten separated, but you managed to find a part of the exhibit that didnât receive as much traffic. There were only a handful of people within sight, each in their own worlds. You werenât approached, werenât tugged along to be introduced to anyone knew, werenât pressured to socialize. You felt your the pressure in your chest ease as you observed the swirl of colors on the canvas before you.
The canvas, despite being startling in size, was one of the smaller ones on display. You suspected that was why there werenât as many people gathered around it as some of the other, larger paintings. It wasnât as eye-catching, didnât take up as much space as some of the others.
Something you understood more than youâd like to admit.
It was beautiful, though, blues and pinks mixing and mingling in perfect harmony. There were flashes of brighter colors here and there, like the deep red interspersed throughout. You knew nearly all of the paintings here depicted the sea, but there was something different about this one. You didnât think it was the ocean, but something else.
Something familiar. Something mysterious.
âDo you like that one?â A voice came from behind you.
You turned, breath catching as you immediately caught sight of purple hair. You tilted your chin to meet his eyes, a similar swirl of blue and pink to the painting in front of you.
He was taller than you expected. Youâd known Xavier and Zayne were tall, and they certainly acted like it, but there was something about him that didnât seem to carry that height. Like he tried to make himself smaller, easier to fit.
Against your better judgment, you smiled, offering a slight nod.
Maybe itâs best not to say much this time.
He nodded approvingly. âSo do I. Havenât seen many people stop in front of it, though.â He stepped closer, his shoulder brushing against yours as you both faced the painting. He leaned closer to your ear. âIâm Rafayel, by the way.â
You swallowed thickly. âI know.â
He raised an eyebrow.
âI meanââ You cursed yourself internally for not just introducing yourself. âItâs just that your friends with my roommate, so I know who you are,â you explained.
He nodded in understanding. âI know who you are, too.â When he caught sight of your widened eyes, he chuckled. âWhat kind of friend would I be to Em if I didnât even know who her roommate was?â
It sounded like such a casual comment, not something to linger on, but you knew: He knew who you were because heâd been stalking Em. It was a plot point in Love and Deepspace, how had you forgotten that?
And just how much did he know?
âAre you looking for her?â you asked. âBecause I wonât be much help. I lost her a while ago.â
Rafayel shook his head softly. âNo, sheâs somewhere over there.â He made a vague motion towards the main room of the exhibit. âI think she was talking to Thomas. For some reason.â You didnât notice his watchful eyes on you as you laughed at his exaggerated expression. âNo, Iâm much more interested in you,â he murmured with a teasing smile.
Despite your internal screams, you laughed lightly.
What does he mean interested?
You wouldnât put it past him to try and get you on his side to get some more personal information on Em, what with the whole stalker thing and everything, but would he really need your help with that?
One thought came to your mind, though: Zayne and Xavier.
You knew Rafayel wore many masks, so he could just be charming as a means to an end, but the thought of the other Love Interests gave you pause. Something was clearly affected because of your presence here. They seemed more comfortable with you than with Em, but why was that?
Why should someone from an entirely different world forge a greater connection than a love across lifetimes?
You couldnât deny it, though. There was something so comfortable when interacting with each of the Love Interests. You were immediately put at ease, like you were talking to a friend youâd known for years and not a man youâd only just been introduced to. It was as Zayne said: Like Iâve loved you before.
âHelloooo?â Rafayel lightly knocked on your forehead, bringing you back to the conversation in front of you.
âSorry,â you muttered, averting your eyes. âShouldnât you be talking to patrons or something?â
âNah,â he dismissed carelessly. âThey only like my paintings because theyâre popular.â He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly. The ends of his lips threatened to curve upwards. âIâd much prefer to talk to someone that actually enjoys it and understands it.â Though he kept his eyes on you, Rafayel directed your gaze back to the canvas. âThis piece is different from anything else Iâve painted. I always paint what I feel, but that afternoon I felt something shift. I wanted to paint the feeling.â
You nodded, enthralled by his explanation. The way he spoke was mesmerizing, intriguing, like he always aimed to leave you wanting more. âWhat happened that afternoon?â
âI actually donât know,â he chuckled. âIt was about a week ago. Or maybe it was two? It doesnât matter.â He shrugged. âIt must have been around lunchtime that I just felt something change. Like the universe was molding into something different.â
An afternoon a week or two ago?
Your chest tightened again.
That was when you first arrived in Linkon.
What if the universe was molding into something different to fit you?
âThere you are!â Emâs voice rang through the exhibit, bright and cheery. You had to hold yourself back from groaning as she approached. Now was the perfect time for you to get more information from a Love Interest, but it was as if Em have a gravitational pull to each of them. She was constantly around them if she could be, unless she decided she didnât want them.
They bent to her will, something youâd relate to but couldnât fully understand. Why would they willingly have their hearts crushed? Each man knew at least one other Love Interest, knew there was competition, so why were they all so certain they would win her love? What would happen to those that didnât?
âI didnât know you two knew each other.â Em smiled, looking between you and Rafayel.
âActually, we just met.â Rafayel slung a loose arm around you, a movement that seemed so practiced you barely even flinched. Em, however, did, something almost unreadable passing through her eyes. You tried to place it. Was it jealousy? Confusion? Whatever it was, it was gone nearly as soon as it appeared.
Em nodded, silence lingering for a moment too long. âWell, I think we should be getting home. Itâs been a long week and Iâm tired.â She made a show of sagging her shoulders, earning a laugh out of Rafayel that sounded ever so slightly forced to you.
You were probably just imagining it, right?
Em grabbed your arm, pulling you out of Rafayelâs grasp and next to her. He stumbled slightly but quickly recovered, his blinding smile appearing.
âHere, let me get your phone number.â At your raised eyebrow, he explained, âIn case thereâs something about Em we need to talk about.â
How were you supposed to argue with that? You took his phone without saying a word, trying to remember your number as you typed it. Finding yourself typing in your number from your other life, you quickly erased it, wondering how much of that you would remain after you got used to this life.
You handed it back, muttering a quick goodbye as Em swept you away. Rafayel watched you both as you left, his smile slowly dropping until you were out of sight.
Em drove home, a sort of tension in her that neither of you addressed. The ride was silent for the most part, save for some small bits of conversation here and there.
Why couldnât you click with Em when you could with the Love Interests? What was so different?
The apartment was as dark as the night sky when you entered, flicking on the light and kicking your shoes off. You checked the clock.
Nearly midnight.
âIâm so glad we donât have work tomorrow,â you groaned.
âI know!â Em kicked off her own heels, turning around in front of you. âCould you unzip me please?â
You murmured a quick yes and helped her out of her gown, thankful when she helped you with yours. There was an unspoken intimacy between you two that youâd notice grow as you spent more time together. Itâd been so long since youâd had a friend so close by, youâd almost forgotten how to act.
As you slipped on a worn pair of sweatpants, your phone chimed with an unknown number.
hey cutie
dun forget me
if you do ill blow bubbles at you
Rafayel.
You stared at the message for what felt like forever.
How were you supposed to respond?
And who was he calling cutie?
You could hear Em in the living room, giggling over the phone. One of her reverse harem, you figured. Saying something sweet and flirty and acting dumb about it.
You loved Em. You did. It was hard not to. But there was still something so unnerving about her. She was made to be liked as a main character. It was all a script. Nothing felt genuine. Nothing felt real.
And then there was the envy.
Just like liking her, it was hard not to be envious of her. She had everything. A career, recognition, and so much love.
You knew she suffered, that there was so much trauma behind her smile, but it still resulted in so much happiness.
How come yours couldnât?
Yours, that stuck behind you like a shadow, constantly looming.
A constant reminder.
You werenât experimented on as a child, didnât lose your best friend and your guardian in early adulthood. Your trauma wasnât worse than Emâs, you thought.
So how come it affected you so much?
Where was your happiness?
comments and reblogs appreciated! <3
masterlist
#â§Ë° dissociative fics#love and deepspace#lads#lnds#l&ds#love and deepspace mc#lads mc#lnds mc#l&ds mc#lads x reader#lads x you#lnds x reader#lnds x you#l&ds x reader#l&ds x you#love and deepspace x reader#love and deepspace x you#lads xavier#lads zayne#lads rafayel#lads sylus#lads caleb#lnds xavier#lnds zayne#lnds rafayel#lnds sylus#lnds caleb#non mc reader#reader is not mc#love and deepspace fic
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part two. a/n | hiii! new blog but not new to wbb or writing, iâm infact true to this! masterlist & blog introduction soon but i thought iâd get a fic out first (this is lowkey long but bare with me).
summary: in which the pleasure elicits a confession.
warning(s): smut with plot! fingering, fear of being caught, praising, pet names, scissoring, some angst at the end, angst at the end, idk paige is absolutely obsessed with you..
pairing: paige bueckers x fem reader
You hadnât particularly expected yourself to get sexually involved with the star athlete of UConn, but it kinda just happened.
Youâd met Paige Bueckers through Azzi Fudd during yours and hers junior year. Hitting it off with her and the team was no problem. You got along with everyone and it was one of the many qualities that could be admired, but Paige found a sense of comfort with you.
During the start of her recovery, she found it hard to go back to going out like she used to. But the one night sheâd decided to make an appearance for the first time since tearing her ACL, she met you and it changed everything. You had morals that changed her perspective, a bright smile that lured her in, and confidence that wasnât too cocky to be deemed unattractive. You were everything.
From hangouts with the group to study sessions and finally hanging out alone, you found yourselves entirely comfortable with one another. So much so that the team had gotten so used to seeing you together, that they asked where the other was when you were by yourself.
One night when Paige had decided to stay over at your dorm, youâd been wrapped up in a conversation about relationships and the complexity that came with them. You both had similar ideas just like you did on nearly everything. Paige not being able to really commit to anybody with her busy schedule, and you just simply not being into dating. It never went well for you. The last girl fucked up and if there was one thing you always got sick of, it was waiting for people to change.
An idea sparked your mind, and just like always, you spoke it. It was a suggestion that would possibly change your dynamic forever, but as Paige watched the words slip out of your mouth and your eyes dart between her lips and eyes; something you always did but it seemed different this time, she couldnât say no. It felt like a bad idea. She really liked you and wasnât sure where that would lead the two of you, but she wouldâve taken any part of you she could get her hands on.
Now, a little less than a year later, it was safe to say your dynamic had changed. Completely. Paige was at the highest point in her career, her popularity only expanding just everyday. Your casual sex continued, but the more intimate you got, the more Paige found it hard to deny the feelings she felt for you. She distanced herself. You didnât talk the way you used to and surely didnât hangout the way you used to, because those hangouts always turned into more.
You missed Paige. You had her but you didnât have her, and although you knew what your suggestion would bring, you still couldnât pinpoint why she couldnât open up to you anymore. Why she avoided conversing with you alone. It was an abrupt change from the comfortability sheâd showed when everything first started, exploring each other in ways past imagination because thatâs what the agreement was for. But everything changed so quickly, and Paige found more meaning in the words she whispered while reaching her high, more meaning in the flirty jokes, and more meaning in your lingering gazes. She over-analyzed everything, and it was fucking driving her crazy.
Nobody knew. You couldnât even fix your lips to tell Azzi how youâd been hooking up with her best friend. You were sure everyone had an idea though; paige could hide a lot of things physically but the glint in her eyes when she looked at you was undeniable, and although KK and a few others had pointed it out jokingly, you two brushed it off like it was nothing.
Currently, youâd been sitting at a table with some of the team members at the bar. It had been getting late despite you only being on your second drink and not feeling a bit of it, engrossed in a conversation with Aubrey about all kinds of things. Sometimes you wished you were a lightweight.
A few minutes later, Paige slid onto the stool next to you, but you didnât acknowledge her. You hadnât talked to her in a little bit over a week, and finally decided that if she wanted to play the distant game, you would too. She seemed a little tipsy to you, her continuous movements you caught in the corner of your eye proving so. You could admit she looked good when she first walked in. She mustâve worn braids to practice or something because her wavy locks had been flowing over her broad shoulders, a look she knew you fell weak to.
Your attention averted at the sound of Azziâs voice. âIâm heading out!â She announced loud enough for her friends to hear. They bid her with goodbyes as you began to gather your things, stopping at the feeling of Paigeâs hand creeping up on your thigh. She turned to you, a look on your face that you couldâve mistakened for a slight pout.
âI wanna take you home,â was as all she said, and your eyebrows furrowed for a moment. You understood her words, but found it hard to comprehend as her thumb began stroking the crease dangerously close to your center.
Regaining composure, you cleared your throat. ââS okay. I rode with Az, she can take me home,â You replied almost sharply. You didnât question her silence over the past week, not in the mood to cause a scene; just responded like everything was normal, yet one thing you could never hide was an attitude.
As you turned to get up, content with the few words exchanged, Paige twirled your stool back around to her with her opposite hand, stopping you. âI wanna take you home,â She stated again, her voice low but firm. You knew Azzi had been stalling as she waited for you, so as you locked eyes with Paigeâs piercing blue hues, you knew what you had to do. What felt right but so wrong.
Averting your gaze, you whipped your head to Azziâs direction, immediately catching her eye and jerking your head to the side slightly to indicate that Paige would be taking care of you (in more ways than one). She gave you a knowing look, causing you to roll your eyes and spin back around to Paige. She had her suspicions, but they werenât confirmed so it didnât matter.
As soon as you did so, Paige easily stepped down from the barstool, grabbing your hand so she could help you down, a bigger challenge for your height. âWeâre heading out too,â She stated simply, and the crew eyed your exchange, little chuckles escaping their lips. The entire group had their conspiracies about you two, simply because theyâd never seen Paige act like this around any other girl.
Saying your goodbyes, you hadnât realized Paigeâs hand still interlocked with yours as she looked around the bar, seemingly antsy and ready to go as you said goodbye to her teammates. As you dragged her out, she glanced down at your hands, quick to pull them apart and cover it up by reaching to slip her lanyard out of her pocket, the ringing of the keys interrupting the silence.
You only stared at her a second longer before sighing, licking your lips as you crossed your arms. Your position didnât falter the entire way there, and the walk from the campus bar to Paigeâs dorm felt like ages.
âIs there a reason for that lilâ attitude you got?â Paige chirped, the two of you barely making it through the door as she walked in before you, her back turned as she flung her keys to the counter. You scrunched your face up as you shut the door behind you, your arms finally uncrossed.
âWhat are you talking about?â You asked in fake oblivion. You were aware of the sharpness in your tone when you first replied to her. Your demeanor the whole walk here even.
Paige only chuckled, turning around swiftly as she leaned against the island. âHeard it there too,â she said, pointing out the way youâd responded. âI do something?â
It was your turn to chuckle, audibly shocked that she had the nerve to even ask such a thing. âHowâd you decide that tonight was the perfect night to have sex with me again after ignoring me for a week?â You ask rhetorically, a smile on your face. You wanted to punch the stupid smirk off of hers. She was too cocky for her own good, and you knew your words would only ignite that trait.
âIf you wanted me sooner you couldâve hit me up, you know this,â She replied, her arms now crossed over her chest as her tongue swarmed her mouth. She was amused.
You scoffed, walking closer as you spoke which was something you tended to do when you were upset. You got in peopleâs faces. âThatâs not the point, Paige.â You stuttered out, looking for the right words. Only Paige could make your normally nimble-minded self stutter at such a comeback.
Her eyes scanned your face. âThen what is the point, ma?â Your heart skipped a beat at the sudden pet name. This girl knew you in and out and she was using it to her advantage. It hurt, but you blamed yourself.
You stopped in front of her, trying not to let her looks get the best of you as you bit down on your lip. âYouâve been distant,â you mumbled, avoiding her gaze as you stared at the ground. You felt patheticâ something youâd only felt a few days out of the year. It was rare. âAnd I hate it.â You finally emphasized, peering up at Paige who seemed to have lost any of her previous confidence at your words.
Her lips were plump and parted as she stared at you. It was enough to know youâd noticed and that you cared, but she didnât want to address it, she wanted to kiss you. In one swift motion, she dropped her arms to their respective places, like a default and they knew where to go: one gripping your waist like her life depended on it, and the other cupping your face like she was being handed something she was told to take care of.
Your body trembled as you softened underneath her, your lips automatically moving against hers as you used all your pent-up emotions to keep up with her. Youâd forgotten all about your said attitude and the way Paige had totally dismissed the conversation, but right now, it was the last thing you cared about.
Her tongue slipped into your mouth, eliciting a whine from you at the quickness that made Paigeâs knees buck. She loved to hear you. She loved any sound you made. You made her weak.
âCan never get e-fucking-nough of you,â she breathed out, the comment more to herself. It was words like these that made you question how casual your hooking up was. She got so poetic and warm in the world of sex with you, and you loved it. It didnât matter if she was praising or belittling you because you would eat it up every damn time.
Your hands roam through the waves of her hair, finding a spot that you comfortably grip and tug, the motion causing Paigeâs lips to part from yours as her head tilted back slightly. You brought your lips down to her jaw, peppering kisses down the line and to her neck as you held her by her hair, Paige smiling above you. It always started like thisâ a constant fight for dominance that Paige always won. It was why sheâd been smiling so hard.
It didnât take long for you to find that good spot of hers, her smile instantly becoming a face of pure satisfaction as you sucked a light hickey onto her neck within seconds. You never did that because you knew Paige would only have to cover it up, but it felt right.
As Paigeâs hands hooked under your legs and hoisted you up, you yelped, following the gesture with a giggly laugh that Paige couldnât help but crack a smile at. She missed you. âTired of standing,â she mumbled, carrying you to her bedroom. During the short way there, your lips had found her face again, never getting enough of all of the places you could leave a wet, sensual peck.
Setting you down at the edge of the bed, Paige turned around so she could shut and lock the door. She slid her UConn sweatshirt off in the process, pivoting back to you as you sat there in all your glory, laid back on your elbows. Paige immediately got to work, pulling off your pants as she hovered over you, her bottom lip sitting snug in between her teeth.
Glancing up at her, you immediately wanted her closer as she took them off painfully slow, and as soon as she was done throwing them into a corner of her room, she didnât have any time to fully turn her head before you were pulling her into you, kissing her eagerly for the second time that night.
Her hands roamed beneath your engulfed bodies as her mind already knew where everything was without having to look. If there was one thing she learned from having sex with you, it was your body. She knew it as if it were a topic sheâd studied for hours. Her fingers glided over your clothed cunt, causing your body to squirm at the unexpected touch.
She smiled into the kiss at your reaction and the feeling of your wetness, her body falling next to you as she propped herself up with her elbow. She pushed the fabric to the side with two fingers, her lips continually moving against yours as she circled your clit. Without warning, she pushed her two middle fingers into you. You never needed much foreplay because of how wet you got so easily, but that was a gift only Paige received.
You instantly pulled away from the blonde at the feeling, your head glancing down to her moving fingers as your mouth fell agape. Paigeâs hooded eyes stared at the side of your face as your head eventually settled back onto her leaned arm with a gasp. She licked her lips, looking at the way her fingers moved in and out of you so effortlessly. âLook, baby. Doinâ so good for me.â She praised, your moans sounding like music to her ears as your eyes fluttered shut.
Suddenly, she curled her fingers, eliciting a loud, pornographic moan from the depths of your throat. âI told you to look,â she stated firmly. You opened your eyes slowly but surely as Paige lifted her arm underneath you so your head was at an elevated angle to see the bottom half of your body, and you swore you would come simply at the sight and Paigeâs strength that had been showcased from her holding you. âSo fuckinâ pretty,â she cooed. Another praise. Paige never cursed, but when she got in bed with you, it was inevitable.
âIâm gonna come, baby,â you told her, and although your mind had been completely fucked out, you were still good at picking out the things Paige got weak about, which realistically would be everything, including when you called her baby.
Her breathing picked up, the room becoming hot. âYeah? Canât wait any longer?â Paige questioned, and you automatically shook your head through moans, turning to look at Paige who had her eyes locked on you. She took a snapshot of you with her eyes, a picture she would frame in the Louvre if given the chance.
âN-no. Canât waiâ fuck!â You came undone on Paigeâs fingers with a loud groan as her pace quickened inside of you, your juices coating her fingers. She couldnât revert her gaze from your glistening cunt and the way it reflected on her slender hands, getting an urge to taste you, yet she held off.
Your chest heaved as she slowed down, a noise being made as she slipped out of you. You laid back once more despite the fact that Paigeâs arm mustâve fallen asleep by now, watching through half-shut eyes as her fingers came into view. She shoved them into your mouth, her lips parting as she tilted her head slightly and watched you lick your own slick.
âMmm,â she mumbled, nearly drooling as you grabbed her hand with your own, pushing her digits further into your mouth. You indulged at your own pace, peering up at her, knowing the thrill it would give her. Your tongue slid between the two fingers, working its way to slurp everything off. Finally, Paige had enough.
She forced her fingers out of your mouth, sliding out with a pop because of how tight youâd wrapped around them. She got up and made her way around the bed, settling with her back against the headboard. You followed her there with a crawl, laying in between her slightly spread legs as you leaned into kiss her. As your lips moved, you felt the urge for more, pulling away abruptly. Catching your breath, Paige couldnât control her own as she looked at you, eyebrows furrowed. âWhat?â She breathed out, her hands still cupping your cheeks.
You looked down, your head moving in between her cupped hands. âToo many clothes.â You panted, prompting a smile from Paige who was quick to lift her hips up, your bottom halves crashing for a moment as she slipped her sweatpants off, throwing them off the side of the bed. You followed suit with your shirt, leaving you in a lacy, purple bra that made your tits look fucking phenomenal.
Paige leaned back against the headboard, taking in the sight as you sat up before her, teasingly running your hand up the strap of your bra while you looked down. You knew what you were doing, purple is Paigeâs favorite color. Eventually, you brought both hands to the clasp in the back, finally glancing at Paige who seemed to be stuck in a daze. You smirked slightly, not tearing your eyes away from her as your tits fell from its holder, and Paige was ready to dive into you.
âCâmere.â Her voice was husk as she whispered for you to come closer, and you obeyed, crawling back to your previous position between her legs with a smirk. Thinking Paige was going to kiss you once more, you brought your lips closer to her, but she dipped her head to your collarbone, her mouth immediately getting to work as you moaned softly, bringing your hand up to play with her hair.
She began sucking, and you swore you started to feel dizzy. You glanced down at the pink-ish mark forming on your skin above the place sheâd now been getting to work on, making you a bit confused in the mist of your heavy breathing before you glanced down at the spot on Paigeâs neck that had now been a dark purple color. You didnât think sheâd noticed, but obliviously she had. Paige knew it wouldnât be a good look to her friends, but she didnât care. It was fair game and she couldnât resist you.
She then moved down, beginning to fondle with your breasts. She massaged one with one hand, attaching her lips to the other, her tongue swarming your nipple. âMissed you so much.â You whimpered, bringing your hand around to tuck her hair behind her ear, getting a good sight of her. How pretty she looked beneath you like this was all you could think about.
A few moments later, she pulled her lips away, seemingly content with the work sheâd done. She hastily pulled her boxers down afterwards, you following eagerly with your soaked panties, the same ones Paige hadnât even bothered to pull down when fingering you. Just as the two of you tangled your legs together, your beating cunts an inch away from igniting the longing pleasure, the jingle of keys and distinct chatter interrupted the moment, making you whip your head around towards the door.
You could make out the voices of Amari and Ice, realizing they mustâve left a little bit after you and Paige. The walls were too thin for this.
Without notice, Paige pressed her bottom half into you, making you moan out. She was quick to cover your mouth before you could yourself, your eyebrows furrowing through pleasure and fear of being caught. âYou know I love hearinâ you but youâre gonna have to be quiet for me, baby, okay?â she whispered, making you nod. Although the chances of being caught were high because of the unlocked door, the warmth of Paigeâs clit hitting yours over and over was enough to make you forget about all of that.
You moved against her in a way Paige thought was painfully slow, a bead of sweat already forming at the top of her head as you both couldnât tear your eyes away from where your bodies interlocked. She brought you down to her face, peppering soft kisses to your lips as you could barely build up the strength to kiss her back, all of it going into the way you moved.
Through low curses and pants, you finally mustered the strength to move your hand to Paigeâs cunt, her reaction resulting in her dropping the hand previously over your mouth, her bones feeble. âShit, keep going,â Paige murmured, her words enough to make you speed up your motions. Your hips bucked back and forth on her, whining as you tried to get as much as friction as possible.
Paigeâs hands shot down to your waist, gripping them as she admired the way her fingers molded into your skin. They trailed down to your ass, her head tilting to the side a bit so she could get a good view of the way you looked from behind. She couldnât quite fathom how you looked good in every position.
Dazed and breathless, you both felt your high bubbling within you as you continuously moved, the sound and smell of sex filling the room. âPaige, Iâmmm.. fuâ almost..â you could barely get any words out, but the blonde could make out what you were trying to say as she pushed her hips up further, getting any resistance she could.
âIâm right with you, fuck,â Paige dragged her words out, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to hold off a little longer, but she physically couldnât. Her stamina was a bit better than yours overall because she was an athlete, but tonight she wasnât holding off.
You leaned down to rest your head in the nape of Paigeâs neck, the slightly new angle pushing you both over the edge. You felt intoxicated as you came undone, Paigeâs center never giving the throbbing a rest as she came right with you like sheâd promised. âSh-shit.â Paigeâs voice had gotten high for the first time that night. âI love you so fuckinâ much, fuck.â Paige admitted, her words rushed out. You only panted, bringing your head up to rest against her forehead as your chests heaved and you both stopped moving. Paige opened her eyes at your touch, only being able to stare into your eyes for so longâ caught in a different universe as your lips hovered over hers.
Still breathless, Paige managed to wrap her arms around you and set you down next to her, your wet, sweaty body hitting her sheets. Coming down from the sacred high and finally having room to think, youâd only just then comprehended what Paige had said, knitting your eyebrows slightly from next to her. You turned your head, realizing she had managed to hoist herself up and put her clothes back on, grabbing scattered pieces of clothing in the process. Your scattered pieces of clothing.
You propped yourself up on both elbows, her comforter covering your chest. You realized that if anyone were to walk in right now, there would be no hiding the fact that youâd indeed just fuckedâ your mascara smudged, your hair an absolute mess. You cleared your throat, indicating you were back in the right state of mind and Paigeâs body shook. Her back was turned to you, but she could already feel the tension heavy in the room.
Paige had never, not once said those three words to you. And with the way she was acting, you could tell it wasnât one of her heat-of-the-moment sayings. Sheâd meant it. âPaigeââ she cut you off before you could address it.
âYou should go. Itâs late.â Despite her attempts to shake you off, Paige knew better than anyone that she wouldnât get the last word with you. She mightâve been too full of herself, but you were one quick-witted individual.
You chuckled from behind her, an attempt to hide the actual hurt in your tone. âYouâre serious?â you asked, although you knew she was. Your eyes were widened and you couldnât believe sheâd said such a thing before literally kicking you out.
She turned around and effortlessly tossed your clothes onto the bed, the garments landing right in front of you. She didnât have to say anything. You could fucking feel it. You didnât have the energy to put up a fight or an argument because it simply did not seem like she cared enough for it. Her words would only hurt you more. Youâd known and learned this girl through and through and you wouldâve never thought sheâd do such a thing. You normally stayed the night, took a shower together, or even just stayed in each otherâs warmth until having to tend to something. But tonight, sheâd dropped a bomb and resulted in acting like an asshole.
You had a slight frown on your face as you hastily gathered your things, your clothes sloppily thrown on your body like you were sneaking out from a one-night-stand. You tucked your hair behind your ears as you put your shoes on, ignoring the unreadable expression on Paigeâs face as her eyes shot daggers into you. Why werenât you saying anything back? Why werenât you shouting the most cruel things in her face? She felt like sheâd deserved some backlash for what she just did, yet you seemed more hurt and eager to get out of her room than angry.
Without a second glance at the blonde, you rushed out of the room, nearly slamming the door behind you which elicited a slight jump from Paige. Waltzing across the living room, you almost didnât catch the widened eyes of Amari and Ice in the kitchen. You didnât care that their speculations had been confirmed, because it was shut down now. Despite being the only girl Paige had been fucking for months on end, she treated you like just another fling tonight, and you were hurt. You were hurt because you loved her too and she didnât care enough to say it again.
#paige bueckers#paige bueckers fanfiction#paige bueckers fic#paige bueckers smut#paige bueckers x reader#uconn wbb#uconn huskies#wlw#wlw ns/fw#lgbtq#paige bueckers headcannons#uconn womenâs basketball#bueckersâ works đ
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âA little mistakeâ



Pairing: Sam Carpenter x fem!reader
Summary: On a shopping day, Sam says something that upset and hurt you too much, causing you to be curt and distant for a while, until she humbles herself to get your forgiveness.
Warning: Comments about the body, mention of complexity with the body, implicit trauma, body disgust, memories, crying, dry texts, implicit sex, fluff?? Idk
Word count: 3.3k
âLet me taste yoursâ you say cheerfully as you look at the chocolate bar Sam was eating next to you.
âNo way. You have your own candyâ Sam replies with a playful smile pointing at your sour gummies and pushing her candy away from you.
âCome on, donât be mean. Just one pieceâ
She chuckles and rolls her eyes playfully knowing full well that she couldnât say no to something like this âOkay. Just one and nothing moreâ
You watch with a triumphant smile as Sam breaks off a square of her peanut butter filled chocolate to pop the piece into your mouth. In gratitude you embrace her hug, squeezing her intertwined hands making her chuckle again.
You and Sam were having a nice unnecessary shopping trip to the mall. You had several bags in your hands with things that reminded you of each other to put in your respective apartments. You two werenât living together yet because you two didnât think the relationship was advanced enough to live in the same place, even though youâd been together for a while.
Sam carried most of the bags in his free hand since she didnât like you carrying a lot of weight. You just didnât protest and let her do it.
The afternoon was nice. There werenât many people around and you just wanted to spend the rest of the day with your girl who had left work a couple of hours ago.
The bags swayed from side to side as you walked. You paid close attention when Sam told you how her day was, nodding and contributing at every turn to keep the conversation flowing.
âBy the way, howâs Tara?â You asked when the conversation took a turn, making you remember her.
The previous times you went to her apartment Tara was never there or she would just appear for a moment before going out somewhere and coming back hours later.
âSheâs fineâ Sam assures you calmly. âShe spends her time in Chad and Mindyâs placeâ
âWith the boyfriend, huh?â You say mischievously as you glance at her out of the corner of your eye with a sly smile to add âSomeone needs to be careful thereâ with raised eyebrows in suggestion.
She gasps dramatically and gives you a withering look. âShut upâ She nudges you as she laughs, completely understanding what you meant.
You stumble slightly laughing along with her, enjoying seeing her protective instinct for her younger sister.
You could see on her face that the idea disgusted her, so to try and calm her thoughts and worries you hugged her arm again, subtly resting your head on her shoulder.
She seemed to appreciate this gesture in the way she smiled again, bringing your hand intertwined with hers up to her lips to gently kiss your knuckles.
Every time she did this, a silly smile tugged at your lips. The act showed so much love in something so simple, and you valued it too much.
Her lips on your skin sent bursts of electricity through your body for a brief moment until your attention focused on something other than just her.
âHey, look at that shirt. Itâs pretty.â You tug on her arm excitedly as you see a mannequin behind the window wearing a shirt of your style, to get closer to the store.
She follows you and grabs you tightly, catching her off guard when you move quickly. âYeah, I think it is.â She says, giving the mannequin a quick look up and down.
You give her a knowing smile and glance before pulling her back into the store. âI love it.â Come on, I want to buy it.â
Youâve always liked to let Sam know about things youâre doing or will be doing later, even if itâs something as simple as texting her and telling her youâre going to cook something or take a shower. She really appreciates it a lot, feeling like youâre taking a weight off her shoulders and knowing that youâre completely fine.
At first she seemed to like the idea, but in an instant her expression changed to one of doubt.
âDo you really like it?â Her voice was slightly displeased, it was almost unnoticeable, but you could tell something was going through her mind by seeing her expression.
You stopped in your tracks, as did she, when you looked at her in confusion at her slight disapproving tone. âMmm, yes. Why?â
âNo reason. I just think you should look for something else.â Her tone was soft and firm while you remained confused, not knowing where she was going with this.
She noticed your confusion and quickly spoke. âBut if you like it, itâs okay.â
You blinked a few times, trying not to show the obvious disappointment on your face. âYou donât like it, do you?â You sounded weaker than you wanted to show.
She shook her head, trying to fix her words. âI didnât say that.â Her soft voice made you look up. But then she said something you never thought youâd hear from her lips. âI just think you should look for something⌠that fits you.â
You stared at her stunned, not knowing what to say exactly.
Her words surprised you more than they should have. Youâre a couple, and there should be honesty in the relationship, but this wasnât an appropriate way to say things.
The silence lasted for a few seconds, trying to find the words.
âThat I fit?â You repeated in a low, incredulous voice.
Sam fidgeted and bit the inside of her cheek, not wanting to make things worse.
âUh, yes,â she hesitated, âsomething that suits you.â
Her voice echoed in your mind. That damn answer that you prayed your whole life for her to never say, made you remember that years ago you looked at yourself in the mirror crying because you didn't like your body.
Before going out with Sam, in a state of vulnerability, you told her about your complex with your body, even though you had already changed too much since the last time. She had told you that she didn't see anything wrong and that you were simply beautiful. That was what made you realize your true feelings for her.
Before, you would have cried right then, but since you were now a completely new woman, very different from many years ago, you look at Sam with furious eyes.
She always knew your weakness and it was unfair that she used it against you for something that she doesn't like.
Her eyes widened when she saw your features. She, knowing you well, speaks again before you blurt out angrily, âI mean, everything you wear looks great on you, Iâm just saying try to find somethingâŚâ
âMy size,â you quickly interrupt her.
The silence that strikes again was more deafening than the everyday noise of the store.
She didnât want to talk. She was sure she had screwed up and didnât want to ruin things any further, and seeing your gaze made her more nervous.
After a while she nods weakly without looking at you. âWellâŚâ
Perplexed, you blink several times. You felt your heart and stomach turn over at the cold words coming out of her lips. This hurt you, much more than a low blow.
âOf course Iâm going to look for my size!â You burst out with rage and pain in your eyes as you moved your hands expressively. âI was showing it to you so you would give me your approval or something!â
Her shoulders tensed when you raised your voice. âAnd yes, I like it.â She looked at you again with a lump in her throat. âI was just trying to say thatâŚâ
âAm I fat?â You question her indignantly, raising an eyebrow.
âNo. Iâm not trying to say that.â Her head shakes frantically, wanting to explain herself as quickly as possible, but she couldnât manage it with the withering way you looked at her.
âBut thinking about it!â
Sam stutters. She felt cornered by the way you attack her. âI-⌠well⌠I meanâŚâ
You dropped the bags, making a sharp sound against the floor. The hesitant way she said her words was the straw that broke the camelâs back of your pain. âIâm sorry if things look better on mannequins than on me!â You scoff.
âNo babe, Iâm just-â She wanted to explain herself as soon as possible, but couldnât find the words when you interrupted her again.
âI just wanted something nice for myself.â
She looked around with a quick flick of her eyes, just in case anyone was watching this little scandal. But no one seemed to care.
âAnd it is. But itâs veryâŚâ Sam scratches the back of her neck, meeting your eyes again.
She only got more and more cornered with each word she said, feeling small as she looked at your fierce gaze.
âSmall for someone like me?â You spit out with venom and pain as you took a step forward.
âI- I-â
Your patience was wearing thin and your heart tightened in your chest at all her words.
She was quite sorry about all of this, but you continued anyway, with your pain and frustration spilling over.
âThey always put the smaller sizes on display, and I was clearly going to look for one that fit meâŚâ
âI know, Iâm sorry-â Her voice was so low that you couldnât hear it.
âI didnât want to hear my girlfriend tell me to my face how fat I am.â
Her heart broke at that very moment when you said those words. She was very sorry for putting you in that place, and deep down she knew she deserved it.
âI didnât mean to⌠I never⌠I never said that.â
âBut you thought about it for sure, right Samantha?â
She stayed silent, not knowing what to answer so as not to make things worse than they were. It hurt her that you called her by her full name, realizing how much it hurt you.
She looked at you with a vulnerable expression and her shoulders tense, regretful for everything that happened.
You stood there, arms crossed, staring at her for her to say something. But nothing came out of her lips. âIâm leavingâ
You say with a broken and firm voice and then turn your back to her with the intention of leaving the place.
Her heart beats desperately when she sees you leaving, leaving her alone.
She bends down to pick up the bags you just threw away to follow you out of the store. âLove, please. Let me-â
âLeave me aloneâ you shouted, still with your voice breaking, without turning around, and then you got lost among the people.
She wanted to hug you, comfort you, and apologize for what she had just caused, but she knew you wanted to be alone. âOkayâ she says in an inaudible voice as she stands still, without going after you again.
You left the mall with your heart tight in your chest, heading towards the subway. It was a longer ride, but you were going to take it anyway.
A few hours ago, Sam had picked you up from your apartment in her car to go to the mall together, but now you couldnât ask her to take you back because you didnât want to see her.
The whole way there you couldnât stop thinking about her words. You looked out the window and the only thing that echoed in your mind was her clumsiness in telling you things.
You wanted to accept it, but it simply hurt and made you angry. So many emotions at the same time.
When you got home, you collapsed face down on the couch exhausted.
You let out a big sigh before pulling your phone out of your pocket and realizing that Sam had left over twenty messages and two missed calls. She had gotten there earlier and was still online.
It hurt you to understand that even though you were mad at her, Sam still cared about you.
You made yourself comfortable on the couch and read each of the messages.
Each message represented how worried and sorry she was, asking for forgiveness and sending you a picture of some random cat from the internet.
Your weakness was those little felines, but you weren't going to let it go that easy. You read her messages and decided to take a quick shower before answering her.
And so you did. You left her on read and went to take a quick shower, even though it was late you didn't care.
When you got out of the shower with a towel around you, the phone vibrated again. You picked it up and saw that it was another call from Sam. You automatically hung up and texted her so she wouldn't worry too much.
You were mad at her. Yes. But that wasn't a reason to ghost her and disappear from her life.
Your replies to her messages were short and dry showing how upset you were.
She didn't let it go. She felt worse and worse for not having your usually long and catchy messages, with some emoji at the end.
And so it was until the next day, where you didn't talk too much because you were busy with your respective jobs.
But each one was thinking about the other.
Sam worried and remorseful for making you feel bad, and you upset and sad for being away from her.
The dry messages continued throughout a torturous day.
You both didn't like being angry with each other and Sam didn't want to be this way anymore. It hurt her heart to know that the reason you're so distant is because of her and she wanted to end it.
The next day you arrived at your apartment in the afternoon. You hadn't thought about her for a few hours because you were constantly busy with your duties and obligations.
You changed into more casual and comfortable clothes and then filled a small watering can with water.
You walked to the balcony and leaned over the railing, where you had a flower pot hanging out to water.
Your gaze was neutral as you focused on your task until a voice that you would recognize anywhere pulled you out of your thoughts.
âBabe, pleaseâ It was Sam who was in the middle of the street yelling up, waiting for you to notice her.
She was carrying a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a box of chocolates in the other. She was wearing a shirt that made her look somewhat formal. You didnât know if it was because she had just gotten off work or if she had prepared for the occasion, but either option piqued your interest.
âI know I fucked up, I shouldnât have said all those things, but please perdĂłname mi amorâ
She desperately begged for you to forgive her, while waving her already busy hands.
Seeing her like this made your heart skip a beat in affection, and you leaned on the railing to get a better look at her behavior.
You live on the fourth floor, which meant that Sam was yelling more than necessary and doing everything she could to make you hear her.
âI didnât mean it, I swear. I donât know what I was thinking at that moment, but I promise it wonât happen againâ
She was really sorry, and you knew it immediately. You felt like you couldnât be mad at her anymore, but you wanted to see where this was going.
You noticed how the neighbors from the other floors came out to see the scandal that was happening on the street, although Sam didnât seem to notice. All her concentration went on you.
âI understand that youâre mad at me and that you donât want to see me, just let me fix things.â
Mutters could be heard in the apartment below you before you realized that one of the neighbors was watching you, realizing that the yells coming from the other woman were for you.
âEres el amor de mi vida and I donât know what I would do without you.â
You melted at that very moment and your cheeks blushed furiously when you heard some âAwwâ But even so Sam didnât notice the crowd.
A car was coming at a very slow speed down the street when it stopped next to Sam because she didnât move from the spot.
âI didnât mean all those things, reallyâŚâ The driver being an asshole, honks his horn managing to make her jump in fright and forcing her to back up to get on the sidewalk. But she continued anyway. âYou are incredibly beautiful with anything on, even without them you areâ
You laugh nervously at her words and she blushes when she hears what she said.
More people on the street stop when they see her, and thatâs when she notices all those people who are watching her.
âI know I hurt you and I feel really bad about it, but I canât stand this distance that I caused anymore.â
âI want to hold you again, feel your skin against mine and tell you how much I love youâŚâ
The murmuring grew louder, realizing how nervous Sam was now. Your heart was pounding and all you wanted to do was hug her and kiss her.
âI promise Iâll be good this time and think things through before I say them⌠Just forgive me. It wonât happen again.â
Sam was about to get on her knees when you motioned for her to come up. You didnât want her to humiliate herself any further for you. Not with so many people watching.
Her smile spreads at your signal and as if she were almost running, she enters the building.
People clap and whistle when they see this beautiful moment, giving her intangible words of support.
You walk away from the balcony, still with your cheeks flushed, and walk towards the door, which you open waiting for her to arrive.
After a few moments, she appears with the bouquet of flowers and the chocolates and hands them to you as soon as she sees you, her expression tired and out of breath. She had taken the stairs instead of the elevator.
Despite everything that had happened out there, you wanted to keep looking at her coldly, but you couldnât do it.
âLook. I know my words the other day werenât the best, but I want you to know that everything I said out there was serious. I would never lie to you with something like that. And yes, I messed up. I just ask that you forgive meâŚâ
You tried to look at her with a blank expression, but seeing her pleading eyes and desperately breathless voice made a smile betray you.
âYes. I forgive you.â
Her eyes widened in surprise at hearing those simple words, when she had been waiting for them for a few days now. âReally?â
âOf course. You already humiliated yourself enough for today,â you say amused with a smile.
She lets out a sigh of relief before leaning in and filling your face with soft kisses. âThank you,â she murmurs against your skin.
You chuckle and wrap your arms around her neck as her hands gently grab your waist to get closer.
Her kisses continued on your skin, playfully moving down to your neck until her lips found yours, forming a tender and passionate kiss as you smiled against her.
Hours later, you found yourself naked in your bed, clothes strewn all over the bedroom floor and a sleeping Sam in your arms with her leg bent over your hip and a hand on your chest. A silent way to not let you go again.
Thank you so much for the support of the previous fanfic. I honestly didn't think many people would read it, but here we are. I promise to improve in my writing as I upload more stories, also, I have some more ideas for fanfics with Sam, so I will write them for future uploads until I become obsessed with someone else đ˝
#scream 2022#scream 2023#Sam carpenter#sam carpenter x female reader#sam carpenter x reader#sam carpenter x y/n#sam carpenter x you#melissa barrera#melissa barrera x reader#scream#scream x you#fem reader#lesbeans#lesbian#wlw#wlw post
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I'm sorry, this is really dumb but Modern Epic Athena definitely was very active in her children's childhoodâlike pictures with them on every first days of school active, like full on co-parenting active. So...Fuck it, do you think Fredrick's wife had a one sided beef with her? Do you think M.E Athena's presence would have turned her into one of those stepmonsters? The one with a weird inferiority complex when it comes to the ex aka Athena? Because it'd be one thing if Athena was human but she is a literal goddess.
Idk, the thought of this is...humorous? Because M.E Athena would not understand where the animosity is coming from. She's just there to spend time with her daughter, teach her how to ride a bike, how to use a swordâthey're foam swords until she turns 7 then they move up to woodâbe a mother. She don't want that man! Frederick's reaction to Annabeth's "birth" would have given her such a visceral sense of ICK that it killed any feelings she had for him and caused her to completely reevaluate their relationship up until that point.
M.E Athena: I have a long term boyfriend, I've been moved on.
Frederick: ...What?
M.E Athena: Yes, him and I have a four year old son together (^-^)!
5-Year-Old Annabeth: My little brother Malcolm :)!
Frederick: ...Annabeth you know this man?
Annabeth: Yes.
Frederick: Why didn't you tell me?
Annabeth: *Confused* I did, you said not to bother you when you're working.
M.E Athena: *Wondering what she ever saw in him because the ICK is back tenfold*
M.E Athena Internally: Just five more years. Five more years then you can send her to camp, put her in boarding school, and never have to deal with this man again...
I'm sorry I know it's dumb but it's been stuck in my head for the past three days, so opinions would be nice.
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do you think the fandom tends to erase brienneâs femininity?
idk I think the problem is less that they âerase her femininityâ, more that they donât really think about Brienne in complex terms at all. itâs just âI love Brienne and want whatâs best for her!!â and âsighhh she is the truest knight!!â and âI love Brienneâs gender trouble!!â but then nothing deeper - just statements that sound passionate or profound to disguise the fact that they have very little to say about her.
and some ppl may have only thought about Brienne long enough to think sheâs interesting in the ways she doesnât conform to womanhood, and miss the way GRRM deliberately pairs that with the ways she does, to create a duality about her that complements Jaimeâs in turn. this duality is always key with Brienne - itâs literally in her sigil - but if ppl arenât thinking that hard about her to begin with I donât expect them to do much with it.
that said, Iâve talked before about how unhelpful the âerasing her femininityâ dialogue can be when discussing white gnc female characters. Iâm not accusing you of this ftr! but this topic comes up a lot wrt certain other gnc characters in asoiaf and hotd, and it stinks a bit. it treats femininity as the resource that makes female characters complex, interesting and likeable, and finds ways to contort their non conformity into a more appealing, organic kind of femininity - rather than just accepting that âmasculineâ traits are not a bad thing for a woman to have and itâs pretty regressive to desperately try and reframe every one of them as femininity. but yeah more in that post if youâre interested
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Request: "Can you write a oneshot featuring Aizawa Shouta with self bondage and gags please? In the fic, he gets the idea to try out self bondage in his apartment. You can decide on how he ties himself and with what toys. But I'd like it if he used a tape gag and was unable to escape his bonds, meaning he'd be stuck in bondage and orgasming the whole night."
Authors note/info about the story: This is male reader who works as a teacher at UA and is a prohero. You have a crush on Aizawa and he has a crush on you. I fear I'm obsessed with submissive men đđEnjoy~~
Word count: 1,611
Masterlist Link
REQUESTS OPEN PLS SEND!
Warnings: Self bondage, super overstimulation, sex toys, multiple orgasams, dry orgasm at the end (I fear om obsessed with them đ)
Aizawa knew this was a bad idea, he knew this was kind of a terrible idea. But he couldn't push down his desires, plus he knew it was mostly a safe plan...mostly. All he had to do was be as careful as possible.
He had finished school for the day about an hour ago and was finally headed home (yeah ik it's technically a dorm but let's pretend it's a bit more like an apartment complex type situation) He just wanted to...spice things up tonight.
All day it felt like you had been teasing him and he couldn't get the thought of you out of his head. Why did your hero suit have to make you so fucking sexy? It drove him out of his mind.
You had been way more touchy then usual today and he almost had to rub one off like a teenager in the staff bathroom. So now in the privacy of his own home he can take care of the erection that's been forming all day.
He took off his shoes at the door and instead of taking off his hero clothes like normal he kept them on. You always said you hot he looked in uniform so he wanted to keep it on.
He went to his drawers and pulled out one of his sinful toys. He bought it in an act of desperation years ago and only used it when he really needed to, like right now.
It was a vibrating cock ring that wouldn't stop him from coming, it was a win win and he always felt a little guilty about buying it. Even so it did come in handy in times like this.
He put some lube on his hands and jerked himself to full hardness before slipping on the ring. He let out a low groan and pumped himself a few more times. He kept the remote in one of his hands so he could change the setting even when tied up.
Now on the bed Aizawa expertly tied his legs first and arms later to the bed posts, with a swift motion he wrapped it around his mouth as well. He strategically kept the end peice hanging next to one of his hands. This was so when he was done he could pull on the end and free himself from the binds (idk how knots and stuff works so pretend this makes sense).
With a deep breath through his nose Aizawa clicked the first setting of the ring. A soft buzz filled his ears and his hips jerked slightly at the feeling. He quickly turned it up a level to give him more stimulation. He moaned through the gag and closed his eyes.
He let the feeling wash over him. "Mmmh hmnnn" he whined through the gag, turning up the vibrations to a faster pace. Aizawa choked on a moan at the intense change. The feeling of vibrations felt foreign but oh so good.
Aizawa changed the level up again finally reaching the highest setting. The moan he let out was borderline pornagraphic, bucking his hips upward into the air he whined into the gag.
It didn't take long for him to reach his climax, the orgasm building up in his gut. He came with a low groan into the cloth. Aizawa felt extremely messy as the cum got on his hero suit. After a second of riding himself through the intense pleasure he went to turn the ring off.
In an instant he was washed over in a wave of panic when the remote fell from his hand. He tried calming himself by reaching for the end of his binding cloth but when he pulled there was no give. Why was there no give??? Aizawa must have used this cloth hundreds of times without mistakes. So why now of all times did he mess it up????
He couldn't think straight enough to get an answer with the relentless abuse of his poor cock. The ring still pulsing at its high level, he let out a broken sob, all of it muffled by the damn binding cloth wrapper around his mouth.
His hips were moving on their own accord as best they could. Aizawa tried tugging and pulling at the cloth but to no avail. His wrists were starting to get sore and his legs ached at the position he tied them in.
After coming again he could feel pain seeping into the pleasure. There was nothing he could do, he wouldn't be able to handle the embarrassment of screaming into the gag as best he could in hopes someone would hear.
The only people he lived by were his coworkers/friends and nothing would be worth having to face whoever came to his rescue the next day.
An image of you flashed in Aizawa's mind and he let out a whine at the thought. You lived close by, just a door down the hall. He gave you a key to his apartment (I know it's a dorm don't come after me), along with Mic. You were probably up right now, grading papers or watching TV.
He knew about your bad sleeping habits, he knew there was a good chance you were up right now. He imagined you touching yourself to, just down the hall. He imagined you waling in and seeing him like this. The thought was all it took to push him over the edge for a third time that night.
There was dried and wet cun alike on his clothes, he felt like a gross mess. All he could think about was you and how he wanted it to be you giving him all this pleasure and not just some toy.
Aizawa was now fully sobbing into the gag, it was wetted with tears. The vibrater kept going, and with each pulse he knew he was a goner.
~~~~~~~~Time skip to later that night~~~~~~~~~
His body felt like it was on fire, everything hurt and the pain was overtaking the pleasure. Every pulse of the vibrater brought a new flow of tears to his eyes. Despite what he wanted he felt the burning sensation of another orgasm building up in his chest. He let out a hiccuping sob into the cloth covering his mouth.
The overwhelming pleasure from his orgasm made him throw his head back as best he could. It was dry and raw and was ripped out of him. In his blessed out state, despite the continuous stimulation to his aching cock, he didn't hear the knocking at the door.
He also didn't hear you coming in, "Hey Shota, sorry to barge in but can you-" the words you were trying to say were lost as you took in the sight before you. He looked so pretty, tied up and clothed with just his cock out. Sweating and covered in his own come, you were so tempted to take a photo but assumed that wouldn't go over well.
"Shota...what?" Again the words died in your throat when Aizawa looked up and saw you gawking at him. He whined a high pitch moan, desperately squirming. He wanted to cover himself and preferably go die in a hole, never to be seen again by specifically you.
"Ummm tphh mmmm" He tried begging to you through the binding cloth but couldn't make anything sound coherent. "Shota, do you need help?" You hesitantly asked, not wanting to overstep. Aizawa quickly nodded his head praying you would get the message. You dropped the paper in your hands and rushed over to the bed.
After a minute of fiddling with the cloth, along with trying to ignore the moaning man under you who was still having his dick abused by the vibrater. Also trying to ignore your own growing erection.
You finally got the cloth completely undone and off of him, he immediately went to take the vibrater off his leaking dick. Aizawa was panting and breathing out light "Thank you"s. He wanted to say more, to explain himself, but he couldn't find the words. Even if he could his throat was scratchy and he desperatly needed water.
You were now sitting on the bed facing each other, maybe a bit closer then friends should be but neither of you wanted to move. The tiered man rested his sweaty forehead on your shoulder, to weak to keep it up himself.
After a second of silence you spoke up "If I was a bit more greedy I'd think you put on this show for me." You leaned forward slightly to whisper in his ear. His breath hitched at your tone. "I-" He didn't know how to explain himself so you kept talking.
"Didn't think you'd be this kinky Shota but I guess it is always the quiet ones. Plus i mean you did come up with a weapon called a 'binding cloth' so maybe I should have expected this." Your voice teasing but filled with lust, hot breath blew over his ear making them tinted red. M.
"I always hoped I could see you like this but that was mostly just wishful thinking." You laughed again, this time at Aizawa's reaction. In his blessed out state he leaned back and looked you in the eyes. His face was flushed and his eyes seem glazed over but they were fixed on you.
"What?" Is all he asked, it made you chuckle and take his face in your hands. He half hoped expected you to kiss him but instead you leaned in to his ear, you gave it a teasing nible before whispering. "Shota I've been wanting to fuck you since the first day I started working at UA."
#mha#aizawa shouta#mha aizawa#bnha aizawa#aizawa x reader#aizawa shĹta#aizawa smut#bnha smut#smut#mha x reader#bnha x reader#my hero academia#Sub mha x reader#Sub shota aizawa
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Visions | Diluc x Reader



synopsis: You love how much of a gentleman your fiance is. You swear on Barbatos. Yet, there are moments when you long for him to be more assertive, to take instead of asking, to lead instead of following, to claim instead of requesting. This desire consumes your thoughts so intensely that it even starts to invade your dreams.
a/n: so. :) heyyyaaa i'm baaack,, anyways ending was finished in a hurry cause im tired and i wanted to post this asap rocky k bye
wc: idk but it's pretty lengthy i think i yapped tew much
warnings: bondage, mentions of cheating(no one actually cheated ok?), smut, Diluc has a god complex
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Today has been extremely draining for you; you took on four commissions, four bounties, traveled to Liyue, took on more jobs thereâall you wanna do is get in bed with Diluc and sleep until you're forty.
As you make your way past the grapevine, you can't help the ominous feeling that you're being watched. No, followed.
You turn around scanning the area behind you with narrowed eyes. Before you let out a nervous breath, you catch a dark figure in the corner of your eye, causing you to choke up in surprise.
What the hell?
You narrow your eyes once more, slowly reaching for your sword strapped on your back. Just as you unsheathe the blade, the figure runs towards the woods, eliciting you to sprint towards them.
If they think you're someone easy to scare, then they've got you all wrong. Spooked, yes. Uneasy, for sure. But scared? Ha! You fought the Electro Archon. It'll take a lot for something to scare you.
You pass by multiple trees, jumping over bushes and frightened squirrels, leaping on branches and swinging yourself from tree to tree before dropping back on the ground.
Shit!
You feel sweat trickling down your spine as you heave for air, looking around you. You lost them. Maybe today's been more tiring for you than you thought.
You let out a sigh, squeezing the handle of your sword before clicking your tongue, disappointment seeping throught your body.
You turn around, about to take a step until you hear the swoosh of the air behind you, quickly followed by the swift sound of a blade hitting the bark of a tree. You jump, about to turn around but unable to. Confusion decorates your brows in a furrow as you look around, your eye catching the glint of the throwing knife. The blade is pierced deeply on the wood and as you continue to study it, you notice a piece of your clothing is stick with it.
Fuck.
As you busy yourself with trying to undo the knife, another knife is stabbed on the bark, this time, a hand is gripping the handle. You feel your heart sink as your eyes trail from the gloved hand, down to the covered forearmâthis person must consistently work out as you eye the jacket struggling to keep itself from ripping when your gaze reaches their biceps. You flick your gaze up to their face, swallowing harshly at the sight of their white and gold mask that covers their eyes.
"Oh what the hell." You growl, trying to push your fiance off of you. "Diluc what the fuck are you doing? You gave me a fright!"
As you continue pressing your hands against his chest, your assurance slowly breaks apart. What's he doing?
"Move." You spit harshly, too tired to play his games.
Frustration begins to claw at you when your fiance doesn't move. At all. You let out a huff, about to give him an earful, but something catches your eye.
In the corner window of dawn winery in the upper floor, you see a shadow moving about. You can distinctly make out the ponytail, the body structure, and the posture.
Your eyes return to the person holding you against the tree, the feeling of fright comes back to you tenfold, engulfing in a tsunami of cold sweat and weakened limbs.
The person infront of you isn't your fiance.
As you mentally shake yourself, you carefully lift your leg, ready to kick him in the nuts but the stranger reads your actions, pressing his entire body against yours. You open your mouth, ready to scream but he covers it with his gloved hand, muffling your attempts.
He slowly moves his mouth near your ear, his rough breathing hot and harsh. "I love it when someone so strong trembles for me." He mutters, the feeling of his warm, wet tounge gliding over the shell of your ear causing you to shudder. He chuckles deeply at your reaction, softly nipping at the tip of your ear.
This is so wrong. This is so so wrong. Your fiance's right there and you're here shaking against another man pressed to you. Diluc is right inside your home and youâ
"What's this?" The man's voice snaps you back into reality. Your worries caused you to ignore his other hand letting go of his knife and slowly make its way down your stomach, bunching your dress right above your legs.
"Such a whore." He whispers, forcing you to look down. Your breath shakes as you take note of the wetness on his fingers.
Pale. He has pale hands, so his skin colour must be on the paler side.
Everyone and their vision knows you're simply deluding yourself by making these observations. You're making grounds on why you're allowing this to happen. You're trying to reason with no one.
"You like this? You wanna be taken?" His fingers return to the drenched place between your legs and you try, you try so hard, to muffle your pathetic whimpers, but they all pour out as if they have a mind of their own.
His fingers move in tight circles on your clit. Your breathing turns harsher and harsher. Before you know it, your hips are rocking on their own and you've fisted the stranger's suit in front of you.
"Look at you using my hand to get off like a pathetic village whore." Your moans spill from your lips, your hips moving faster and faster as you try to seize your high. "Such a fucking slut, letting a complete stranger fuck you with his fingers when your fiance's right there."
That snaps you out of your lustful haze.
No.
You can't do this to Diluc.
You push the masked stranger's hand away, reattempting to shove him off of you again but he simply clicks his tongue, grabbing your wrists and pushing them on the space above you.
"Tsk tsk tsk." He shakes his head. "You get to have your fun but I don't? Seems a bit unfair to me." He frowns as you sneer at him.
"Let go of me and fuck off. Once I tell my fiance about thisâ"
"Diluc, will not be able to do anything after I've used you."
Oh great Barbatos above, forgive me for ruining my knickers at what this fucker had just said.
"He'll kill you." You spit, the glare you're wearing amusing the sicko even further. He grins widely, canines showing.
"And I still would have killed this pussy."
Oh, hardy har har. This idiot's got jokes.
"I'll join him and enjoy watching the life bleed out of you very, very slowly." You taunt, grinding your molars.
"And I'll enjoy watching my cum drip from this pretty pussy," You hear the clanking of a belt buckle and the familiar sound of a zipper being undone. "Very, very slowly." he whispers.
He uses his leg to part your thighs.
"What are youâ" He cuts you off with the feeling of his bulbous head pressing against your folds. You stare into his crimson orbs before he pushes himself inside you, stretching you completely.
"Ah, fuck!" You cry out, euphoria slowly slithering itself through your vains, making their way up your head as the stranger slowly pumps himself inside you.
"This pussy's such a good girl, taking me, making room for me." He hooks your leg around his waist as he abandons any ounce of consideration he had for you and quickens his pace, his ungloved hand pressing and massaging and proddingâ
"Oh Archon!" You hear your voice echo throughout the land and you scream a silent prayer for your fiance.
Diluc, my love, please forgive me. I tried to stop him, I swear I did! But he just feelsâ
"So good!" You yell out in euphoria, nearing the edge.
Just as you jump off of it, the stranger lifts off his mask. You're face to face with the same man you mentally apologized to, but your confusion is drowned in your pleasure.
"Cum with me my love. You can do it." He whispers as you press your lips on his, your moans and whimpers muffled against him.
Your back arches as electricity runs down your spine. Your walls clamp down on your fiance's dick as your head lightens. Your legs buckle, your body tembling against Diluc.
"Love... My love." He whispers.
"What?"
"Love, wake up. I think you have a fever."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Love, please."
Your eyes snap open as your breathing slowly calms. You're face to face with the familiar bedroom ceiling you know all too well. You turn your head to the side, seeing your fiance wearing an extremely worried expression.
"Love? Are you finally up?" He asks, helping you sit up. Once you're situated, he hands you a tall glass of water. "I think you have a fever my love. You've been huffing all night. Your drenched with your sweat and your face is as pink as it gets."
Oh, bless your fiance's poor soul. He thinks you have a terrible fever when in fact, you've beenâ
You stamp down on those thoughts, gulping down the glass of water. As you shift to put the empty glass on the table beside you, your face warms at the slick, wet feeling between your legs.
"Love?" Diluc rushes to cup your burning cheeks, his brows furrowed in worry. "I think you should take a break from commissions for a few days. It's stressing you too much." He takes the empty glass from your grasp and places it on the table for you.
"Let me wash the sweat off of you so you can sleep comfortably." He stands, holding out a hand for you.
You take it, letting him half-carry you to your shared bathroom.
Now, you know you don't actually have a fever. And you can walk by yourself perfectly fine. But your fiance's given you a perfect alibi to hold on to until you've thought of a way to tell him what actually happened��why you look like you're fighting for your life.
"I've asked the help to warm up the water for you. Let me help you wash up-"
As soon as he begins to slide your nightgown off of your shoulders, you catch his wrists.
Once this nightgown's off of you, he'll see everything. And you'll have some explaining to do. And you're not ready for any of that yet.
Diluc raises a soft brow questioningly.
"Can you-" You nibble on your bottom lip, feeling your cheeks warm up once again.
One order of well-done cheeks please!
"Can you please turn around? I'll get in the tub on my own." Your tone is as gentle as you can turn it.
Diluc looks confused, mildly hurt, but he hides his expression quickly as he turns around. "Grab onto me if you feel like you're about to fall." He mutters, pushing his hand out from behind him.
You smile at your adorable fiance, quickly taking your nightgown off.
Even if you can do everything yourself, his hand is reached out for you to hold on to. And it'll be very rude to turn down someone extending a helping hand. Literally. So you softly hold onto his hand as you lower yourself into the tub, letting out a relaxed sigh at the feeling of the warm water almost immediately washing away your stress.
"May I turn around?" Diluc asks. "Mmhmm." You hum, watching him slowly turn around.
His eyes don't drop to the water to try seeing what's underneath all the soap bubbles, he simply grabs the small seat beside the tub, a towel, and silently asks for your arm.
You feel like the world's most loved queen as your fiance softly scrubs the dirty and sweat off of your skin, slowly traveling from one arm to the other, massaging your shoulders and back as he goes.
"Lift your leg for me, love." He asks softly. You bite your lip at his request, remembering how dream Diluc lifted your leg to his hips.
Now, in no way were you a virgin. You've done it multiple times with your fiance. And it felt amazing everytime. And he was so nice, so sweet. He kisses you everwhere. Asks how you feel. Asks what you want, what you don't want. Prioritizes your pleasure before his.
There shouldn't be a 'but'.
But there is!
You wish your fiance was sometimes rough with you. You wish he was more assertive with youâlike he is with the people under him. It's one of the reasons you love watching him work.
You just wish he'd force you. Even just once.
You wish he'd leave marks where people can see.
You wish he'd fuck you like you're nothing but a hole to him.
You widh he'dâ"Claim me..."
Diluc freezes mid wipe, his gaze stuck on a spot on your forearm. "What did you..."
Your eyes widen at the realization at what you just said out loud. Your cheeks burn once again, but this time your nape, shoulders and ears warm as well. You press your lips together and drag your gaze down at the bubbles, not wanting to meet his gaze.
"Love."
You feel your heart beat at the back of your throat. You wish for the bath to swallow you whole. For time to stop. For the world to implode.
With fingers on your jaw, Diluc turns your head at angle where you'll have to look at him. "What did you just say?"
Your mouth opens and closes, you feel like a total idiot! You have so much to say in your head, yet when the opportunity presents itself, you've got nothing!
"Tell me." Diluc demands, your pussy tingling at his tone.
"I just- well actually, last night- here's the thing though-"
"Spit it out y/n."
Your eyes widen.
He's annoyed.
Diluc never calls you by your name unless he's categorically pissed. His gaze stays on yours, unwavering. You know he's getting an answer out of you one way or another.
Silently, you move towards him, wrapping your arms around his waist. You're soaking him with the soapy water, yet you don't have it in you to care. You press your cheek on his side, letting out a sigh.
Looking up at him, you pout. "It's just that... I had this dream..."
Diluc nods as he resumes with wiping your shoulder.
"And- and in this dream, I was walking back home, here, after a long day of work. So much commissions, so much bounties, I had to travel-"
"Your point, y/n." Diluc commands, his tone making you slightly jump.
"Well, before I could enter the winery, I felt as if someone was following me. And someone was!" You look at him and his eyes are still on your shoulder.
He's upset you're keeping something from him.
"And- and he... He pinned me to the tree and..."
Diluc freezes once more, his gaze finally settling back into yours. His red orbs burn with possessiveness and fury.
"You dreamt of another man?" He roars.
You thinkâhe's already mad, let's just pour everything out.
"And- and he touched me, and one thing led to another, and he took me. He just took me and didn't ask, he didn't let go when I told him to, he just-" Your words stop at the sight of him extremely livid.
At who? At you? At the man in your dreams?
"I liked it..." You whisper.
Diluc grabs you by your arm and hoists you against him, forcing you to stand up. The water is swashing around you, his suit is wet, the room is colder with your wet body, your fiance's grip on your arms were tight. It didn't hurt, but you're also unable to pull away from him.
"Who?" It's such a simple question, and the answer isn't a problem at all. And yet, why does your future with this red headed man depend on it?
"You..." Your voice is small and soft.
Diluc looks as though he's about to pass out from relief. His grip on you loosens and you instantly miss it. You whimper against him, gripping on his suit.
"Don't let go. Do it again." You beg, receiving an inquiring look from your fiance.
"Hold my arms that tight again. Please. I-"
"Love, no. I feel like I was too rough with you. I'm sorry I-"
"You kept me on the tree with a knife. You pressed against me and you just took and took and took. You fingered me, with asking, you fucked me when I told you no, and I loved it, Diluc." You sound pathetic and foolish and daft, but you can't help it. You're begging this man to fuck you like how he did in your dream. You want that shit turning into reality. You're desperate for it.
"Love-"
"Master Diluc?" A muffled voice calls out before you hear two knocks. "The traveler is here to see you. She says she needs to speak with you about the Fatui."
You curse Barbatos and whoever maid was standing outside your door for making this opportunity slip past your fingers.
"Tell her I'll be right down." Diluc yells, his eyes never leaving you. "So you don't have a fever?" He asks, completely dismissing how you had just bared your darkest desires to him. It stings.
You shake your head, at a loss for words.
"Finish washing up. If you want, you can come to my office if you want to say hi to the traveler. I think she misses you." He says, pressing a sweet kiss on your forehead before stepping away.
You listen silently to his footsteps slowly drifting away, and with a click of the door, you're left alone with your thoughts. Your regretful, embarassing thoughts. You sit back down on the tub, bringing your legs to your chest.
What does Diluc think of you now? Is he upset with you? Is he grossed out? Maybe he regrets proposing...
You wallow in shame for a few more minutes, keeping the tears from falling as you finish scrubbing your body. You hate this feeling. You hate that you like being roughed up. You hate the fact that you don't stick to the norm.
"Fuck." You sigh, drained and defeated.
You drop the one last bunch of grapes onto your basket. Your fingers are stained purple and they feel sticky, but it's all worth it. These are the best grapes in Monstadt.
You pick up your basket, taking in a deep breath of the night air. The moon is big and bright tonight, so you didn't need to hassle yourself with bringing a lamp along with you. It's a Friday night, and as always, Diluc has dismissed the staff for the weekend. After meeting you, he believes his people should have the opportunity to spend an ample amount of time with their families.
After his talk with the traveler, he decided to go with her and check out the area where she mentioned a lot of Fatui activities were going on. You didn't ask any more details, you were still too embarassed. Now, however, you're regretting it. You're all alone in the house and you're unsure of when your fiance is coming back.
You enter the winery and quickly shut the front door behind you making sure to lock it. Placing the basket on the long dining table, you double check all the windows and back doors. After which, you move over to the office, letting out a relieved sigh to see all the windows are locked.
Storing the grapes in cryo-induced compartment, you blow out all the candles and turn off all the light before making your way upstairs, ready to wash up before calling it a day.
As you turn to the hallway, the sound of a glass shattering roots you in place. You turn to the side, looking down at the empty foyer.
Fuck. You don't have time to grab a weapon. Your gaze hands on a book. That'll have to do.
Slowly and quietly, you make your way down the stairs, keeping your sense sharp as you look around. The sound came from the kitchen. You bring your book up, ready to hit or throw it at anyone or anything that comes your way.
You arrive at the scene, taking note of the broken wine glass on the floor. You huff, bringing the book down before turning in your heels.
You'll clean that up tomorrow.
"Fucking mice." You mutter, climbing back up the stairs, quickly making a beeline to your bedroom. You quickly shut the door and drop the book on the nightstand, hurrying to the bathroom.
You feel fresh and clean and ready to go to bed. You wrap the towel around your body, hating how you have to leave the warmth of the bathroom and enter the cold stagnant air in your bedroom just for some clothes.
You make a mental note to ask Diluc to renovate your bathroom into a walk-in-closet/bathroom type. That'll make your life much easier.
Padding towards your closet, you begin to dig through your night wear, looking for something warm and comfortable. Just as you've picked out a sweater, cool air brushes on your back. You jump, turning around to see no one and nothing.
Nothing but your open bedroom door.
I closed that, didn't I?
Furrowing your brows, you make your way towards the door. Your defenses are brought up again. Just as you reach the doorway and are about to close the door, you notice the book you were supposed to use as a weapon.
It's open.
You take a step towards it, you notice a small circle on the page. Black ink aurrounds the word 'I'm' in the middle. Two red roses stick out, acting like bookmarks. You turn to the page of the top-most rose, seeing another word encircled. 'Watching'. And the second- 'You.'
Goosebumps erupt all over your body and a loud crash causes you to scream. Your head snaps towards the unlit hallway outside. You question yourself if it's even worth it to go down there anymore.
"What am I thinking?" You mutter to yourself.
I've taken down ruin guards and abyss mages and hundreds of hilichurls. A little burglar doesn't scare me. In fact, it should be scared of me.
With a huff, now feeling annoyed that your peaceful night is ruined, you grab the hand knife Diluc likes to keep hidden in your drawer. Clutching the towel against your body, you quickly but silently make your way down the stairs, looking around for anything amiss.
As you reach the foyer, you notice the office door's ajar. You look around before scurrying over to it, pressing yourself against the wall as you clutch the knife to your chest, the blade pointing away from you. With a deep breath, you kick the door open, your body ready to fight whoever broke into your fiance's office.
Once again, you're greeted with nothing.
Confused, you turn to search the rest of the house when another crash echoes throught the foyer.
Kitchen.
As you run towards the kitchen, you freeze at the sound of footsteps padding quickly on the second floor.
How the fuck...?
You switch your pursuit of the kitchen and start running towards the stairs. Halfway up, you notice something wrong. You turn your head slightly around, just to check, before something grabs you by your ankle, causing you to fall.
The corners of each step dig into your body painfully, but you ignore them as you twirl the knife in your hand, you swing the knife against whatever was behind you, turning your body along with it.
You come face to face with a cloaked stranger, who managed to dodge your strike. You lift your leg up to kick them off of you but they read your movements, gripping on your ankle and angling it to the side.
The stranger uses their free hand to grab onto your hand that held your knife, pressing it onto the step above your head as they press their body against yours.
"Get off of me you fuck!" You yell, your weak attempts at loosening your hand from their grip is overpowered by their strength.
The stranger chucklesâthey chuckle darkly as they let go of your ankle and grab onto your other hand. A man. With one hand holding both your wrists, the other grabs onto your towel, forcing it down, exposing your breasts.
"What the fuck are you-" You're cut off by the feeling of their belt pressing against your naked cunt. Heat blossoms on your stomach.
Your hands are pinned above you, your legs are open with a stranger in between them, your body is barely covered by the flimsy towel, and said stranger is grinding on your cunt. Your now wet, hot cunt.
"Slutty fucking body's just begging to be fucked." The stranger growls, the timber of his voice deep. He continues to pull on your towel until it slips from underneath you.
"Let go of me! Do you know who's house you're in right now?!" You yell, your weak attempts at freeing your wrists pitiful, to say the least.
The stranger simply chuckles, and before you know it, the towel is restraining you instead of his hands. "Take this off of me!" You demand, sneering at the man.
"You're in no position to be in control now, slut." He spits, his free hand trailing down your breasts. He squeezes and fondles them before lowering his head, taking your nipple in his warm mouth.
Your teeth dig into your lower lip, you don't want this fucker to hear you feeling good about this.
His tongue swirls around your nipple, sucking on the puckered point before softly sinking his teeth on them. "Fuck!" You cry out, the sudden pain bringing heat down your cunt.
Not now, kitty! You can't do this to me right now!
The stranger chuckles, moving to your other tit, his movement similar, but this time, he bites roughly, making you yell out in pain. Tears sting the corners of your eyes as you look down to see him licking the red mark around your nipple.
"You sick fuck-" You're cut off once again at the feeling of his fingers against your sex. Your wet, hot, needy sex.
When the fuck did his hand get there?!
Your try wriggling your body from his, but he doesn't budge. His finger presses on your sensitive bundle of nerves, causing your lips to part.
Holy shit.
He draws circles on it, pressing the pads of his fingers harshly, intensifying the pleasure charging all over your body. Without warning, he presses two fingers inside, forcing your walls to stretch immediately.
"No! Fuck!" You cry out, begging your body to listen to you.
Diluc. Diluc! Where is he?!
The stranger continues to pumps his fingers inside you. The house echoes with your whimpers, your ragged breaths, and the squelching sound his hand and your cunt makes together.
Everything sounds so lewd.
And you fucking love it.
No! No I fucking don't!
"Diluc!" You cry out.
"No need to yell for me." The stranger pushes his hood off and you've never felt such immense veneration to see the familiar red hair and red eyes you've come to love so much.
That feeling is quickly replaced by a sudden burst of euphoria as Diluc pinches your clit, forcing an electrifying orgasm out of you. You throw your head back, your back arching as waves upon waves of pleasure roll out of you.
"Don't mind if I do." Diluc mutters, feasting on your tits as your orgasm rolls on.
You're left panting and light headed by the time the feeling ceased. "Love." You breathe out, "What are you doing?"
"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" He asks, flipping you over to your stomach. He grabs your waist, pulling it up so your ass is in the air.
"Fuck, love. When you told me about your dream, I almost creamed my pants." He grunts as you listen to his belt buckle clanking. A great sense of deja vu washes over you.
"I've been holding back for so long." He lines his cock to your folds, pressing against them. "You have no idea how many times I fucked you and thought, how would my future wife look covered with my cum?"
Without warning, he shoves his cock deep inside you, all nine inches making it hard for you to breathe. He doesn't give you time to adjust as he withdraws and snaps his hips back.
"And of course, I held back." His thrusts are brutal. " What kind of fiance would I be if I treated my woman like a cocksleeve?" That's exactly how he's treating you right now.
"Fucking you for the sake of my own pleasure?" He chuckles, his fingers digging into your hips. "That'd be very selfish of me." His thrusts have become sloppy, as if he's now chasing after his high. The thought of him using you for his personal gain has your pussy fluttering around him.
"Oh you fucking love that, don't you? You love listening to me talk about making you my bitch." He spits, no, like actually spits on your back.
His fingers weave their way through your hair, gripping on them as he pulls your head back. "Arch the fucking back." He commands, your body following his words immediately. "Fuck yeah, baby. You feel so good right now." He mutters in your ear, his thrusts erratic and unsteady.
"Oh Archons! Let me cum, Diluc! Please let me cum!" You yell out, feeling yourself reach the edge.
"I'm your Archon now." He whispers, his other hand traveling down your cunt. "Cum for me, my little follower." He pinches your clit, an orgasm even more powerful than before shakes your body. Your moans are loud as they travel all over the winery.
"Holy fuck this body is made for sin!" He yells, bottoming out as you feel warm liquid being spilled inside you.
Diluc falls on your back, his ragged breath hot on the side of your neck. A few moments pass before he pulls out, taking you in his arms as he walks up the rest of the steps.
You mentally sigh at the thought of having to wash up again, but your heart is ecstatic right now. You eye the bathroom door, furrowing your brows when you pass by it.
"Where are we going?" You ask, taking note of how your hands are still bound together.
"We're not done." Diluc declares.
"We're not?"
He takes you out the balcony, setting uou down and undoing the towel and dropping it on the ground. "I wanted to watch the moon." He says, taking a seat. "You," he points at you, before point down. "On your knees."
You suck in a breath, slowly kneeling down.
"Take out my cock." He orders, taking off his gloves.
You follow his instructions, feeling your insides turn to jelly at how demanding your fiance is tonight.
If he keeps this up, I'm marrying him tomorrow.
You take out his cock, pumping it softly and slowly at first, unsure of what uou're supposed to do.
Diluc's the first and only guy you've ever been with. And given his track record, he's never ask you to give him head. Sure, you've heard your friends telling you about their experiences, but Diluc always prioritized your pleasure before his. He never found it necessary to ask you for a blow job, and so, you never learned how to.
"Well? What are you waiting for?" He raises a brow, "Use your mouth like the good girl you are."
He places a hand on the top of your head, softly pushing you down until your lips connected with his tip.
"You don't wanna disappoint your Archon now, do you?"
Oh, fuck.
You part your lips, the tip of your tongue softly flicking on his swollen head as your eyes flick up to meet his. Diluc grinds his molars, closing his eyes as his hand pushes your head even lower.
His cock pushes against your tongue, to the back of your throat. The reflex to gag hits you instantly and you begin to pull away, but your fiance's hand keeps you in place.
"Tap my thigh if you feel like it's too much."
Huh?
Without warning, he stands up and grips your hair, pulling you towards him as he snaps his hips forward. Your eyes widen as tears begin to form in the corners. Immediately, you think to tap on his thigh, just as he said. Right before you do, you look up at him, and you're struck.
The expression on him right nowâso desperate, so needy. As if he wants nothing more than to fuck your mouth. As if uour mouth is his only salvation from a life of sin. His eyes are hungry and wanting, his hips fast and harsh, his grip on your hair tight and rigid.
"Shit, baby. This mouth is made for fucking." He grits out, his thrusts unyielding.
Your hands move up his thighs, running up and down before you dig your fingers into his skin.
"I said to tap, not to draw blood, love." He breathes out, mistaking your actions for a tap out. You quickly correct him by hallowing your cheeks, independently moving your head in and out.
"Oh fuck!" His moans are loud and desperate as he throws his head back, his chest rising and falling as he chases his second high of the night.
"So close baby, I'm so fucking close!" He yells out and you moan around his dick, making his hips stutter before he pushes his whole length inside, your throat muscles convulsing around him as you begin to push away, but he keeps you in place.
With one last loud roar, he spills inside you, slowly withdrawing his cock. Out of breath, he presses his thumb on your bottom lip. "Open." He commands.
You open your mouth, revealing his spilled seed inside.
"Swallow."
You swallow.
"On your knees, teary eyed, and looking up at me like I'm God." Diluc chuckles, softly pulling you up to stand. He captures your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue dancing against yours. You are completely and utterly in the man's command.
"I love you, baby." He whispers against your lips.
"I love you more, thank you." You close your eyes, smiling.
"I ahould be thanking you." Diluc chuckles, "How did it feel?" He asks, walking you to the bathroom.
"Mmmm..." You ponder, "I'd like to do it again."
"Really?" He raises both brows in disbelief.
You giggle, pressing a kiss on his cheek. "Mmhmm. I enjoyed it too much. Can't get enough of you." You mutter against his lips before turning to get into the tub.
Diluc fucks you roughly in the tub. He scolds you for being a tease. And again on your bed, for saying you can't get enough of him. And once more until you pass out, your body shaking, covered in marks and sweat and cum.
#genshin x y/n#genshin impact#genshin smut#master diluc#diluc#diluc ragnvindr#diluc smut#diluc x you#diluc x y/n#diluc x reader#diluc fanfic#genshin diluc#genshin x reader#genshin fanfic#genshin x you
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Leander theories : his route
On my last Leander post, I had a very interesting comment and my answer was getting so long I decided a post would be most digestible and it's more about Leander's route outcome which I've been itching to talk about more extensively. So here's the comment left by @bulletmedic !
I agree with this take, well mostly the first part. MC reacts very differently to Leander than the other 4. As I said in my previous post, they very firmly don't want to show or talk about their curse, yet look at them tell Leander anyways. Something is off and it's not bad writing, it was put there deliberatly.
As for the route itself, tldr : yes and no. I think Leander could fall in love with MC no matter what up a certain point in the story or that it depends on certain choices we make.
More under the cut !
Leander, Leander, Leander. Quite the man. I thought about his route structure and outcome so mainy times. As I said above, I have 2 ideas on how the route could go. Again I could be completely wrong but I'm not here to be right just give my 2 cents (and because I love talking about him dqojdqpojzdqzpoidjfqz).
First I want to talk a bit about Leander's goal. In v2.0, it's been made more clear that Leander wants MC's powers for himself, is it by keeping them alive or not. So the "basement wife" scenario wouldn't be impossible, especially if he falls for MC but his obsession around them and their power mix and twist into something more sinister. I don't think Leander is a yandere, or not one in the strict sense of the term but rather borders on the idea in a more complex way justified by the narative and his writing (not saying it's good, just saying that if written well and given logic explenation that could turn out better than just a plain classic yandere trope).
Now, the first posibility : he falls in love anyways but the ending we get depends on choices we make. My take is Leander will either chose his goal/plan or MC. Or try to stop the plan put in motion to save them and either fail or succeed. For the first one, I'd say if MC is too distant Leander won't hesitate too much to sacrifce them for his bigger goal and agenda. He'd hate it, but he needs to do what he needs to do. The second scenario works well with the first one and could be another bad end branching if he decides to save MC. Here I think if MC trusted him enough, he could succeed or something like that.
Then the other posibility : Oh that one would be absolute cinema. Imagine thinking Leander is falling for MC, that you made the right choices only for him to reveal he was lying this whole time and you got trapped. Oh the betrayal. Oh I would get my life if that's the case. The drama of it all. That could mean we need to get the right balance between being distant enough to survive and avoid an early bad ending but not to get a full bad ending either. Just like Leander, we need to play our cards right and chose when to open up and warm up to him in the right moments. Being receptive to his fake charms would get us in danger, while being receptive to a more authentic heart to heart conversation would get us more high in his esteem. Higher than a mere pawn at least.
He is such a complicated character in my eyes, he craves authenticity and a true bond even just friendship, but can't afford it. He can't let a single weakness settle in, and still he feels lonely to the point he tries to fill that void by being liked by everyone (tho he does so for his plan not just out of loneliness). Only to remember a friend to everyone is a friend to no one. Idk what his deal his I need to beat him to death

Me each time I try to guess Leander's motivations and main goal.
Hope that it made sense and was fun to read >:)
#sundayeleith talks#tin foil hat moments#touchstarved theory#leander theory#touchstarved leander#touchstarved game#i swear to god i always feel like im so close to understand him and i feel like im missing smth#head in hands i need him so badly#what is wrong with him#and what is wrong with me#somebody sedate me
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