#if your man hide his face from your cam

[rosemaryhoney27]

“Danny vs. Gotham: Rogues, Riddles, and Regret”

aka: Gotham's Villains Realize They've Made a Terrible, Terrible Mistake

Vlad wanted to leave. He wanted to scoop Danny up, fly far away, and pretend the Gotham trip never happened. But Bruce had insisted Danny stay another week for “family bonding.” And Vlad—against his better judgment and his rapidly thinning sanity—had agreed.

What he hadn’t agreed to was sending Danny out on a “light patrol run” with Red Robin and Spoiler.

“He’s a child!” Vlad hissed. Bruce shrugged. “He suplexed a gang leader and sword-fought Damian with a smile.” Tim sipped his fourth espresso and muttered, “Kid’s got better reaction time than half of us. Might as well let him stretch his legs.” Vlad: internal screaming intensifies

Later That Night – Gotham Financial District, 10:22 PM

It should’ve been a routine patrol.

SHOULD’VE.

But this was Gotham. So naturally, they ran into Riddler. And not just Riddler. Riddler with a microphone, a speaker setup, and a slideshow.

“Riddle me this, Batbrats!” he declared, laser pointer in hand. “What flies forever, rests never, has no lungs but can still scream?!”

Danny blinked. “That’s wind.”

Riddler paused. “…I—I wasn’t done.”

“You said it in the wrong order. Classic misdirection. Also, you did this one in Amity Park two years ago. You posted it online.”

“…What?”

“Yeah, it was part of your ‘multi-state riddle tour.’ You rhymed ‘obfuscate’ with ‘paperweight.’ My friend Tucker roasted you for a week.”

Spoiler wheezed. “OH MY GOD.”

Tim was filming. “This is gold.”

Danny smiled like a polite little demon. “If you want new material, I can send you Tucker’s podcast link. He does villain reviews.”

Riddler stared, brain lagging. “I—I have—graphics—”

“You spelled ‘cerebral’ wrong on slide 4.”

“…I hate it here.”

Five Minutes Later

Riddler’s henchmen surrendered unprompted. Riddler ran face-first into a recycling bin while trying to flee. Danny phased him through the lid and said, “Please stay in there until Gotham has better riddles. Thank you.”

Tim couldn’t breathe. Spoiler was crying laughing. Danny handed Riddler a sticker that said “I Tried My Best (And Failed)” before floating away.

But It Got Worse

Because then, Scarecrow showed up.

And naturally, he released his newest fear gas on the group.

“Let’s see what horrors hide in your soul, little ghost,” Crane sneered.

Danny blinked as the gas swirled around him.

Then sneezed.

Then sniffed it.

Crane: “What—what are you doing—?!”

Danny: sniff sniff “Ooh. Cinnamon and despair. Very vintage.”

Crane: “THAT’S NOT HOW FEAR GAS WORKS—”

Danny exhaled, glowing green, and the gas dissipated.

“I’ve been inside the Ghost King’s mind, dude. This is like spa day fog machine levels. You want real terror? I have a VHS of Tucker’s high school poetry.”

Crane dropped his canister and backed away. Spoiler whispered, “He’s ungasable.” Tim, still filming: “That’s not even the weirdest thing I’ve seen this week.”

Danny offered Scarecrow a cough drop and a tissue.

“Bless your heart,” he said.

Crane ran.

Later – Back at the Cave

Danny was handing out debrief cookies. Again.

Bruce was watching the security cam footage with the face of a man who was trying to process “he sniffed the fear gas.”

Dick leaned over. “This kid’s either going to save Gotham or traumatize it into behaving.”

Jason nodded solemnly. “He gave Riddler a sticker. That’s psychological warfare.”

Damian looked up from sharpening his sword. “He told me he once bit a cursed toaster.”

Vlad, in the background, was staring at the Batcomputer like it had personally betrayed him. “I—he—he ate fear gas. He corrected Riddler’s grammar. He is not normal.”

Bruce looked at Danny, who was humming while reorganizing the med supplies.

“…He’s a Wayne.”

Vlad: “NOOOOOOOOOO—”

[urcoolgf]

THOUGHT I WOULDN’T FIND OUT?

pairing. frat¡rafe && reader

content. fluff. suggestive content/thoughts. language. blood. violence(?)

summary. you’re the designated ‘frat girl’, but when rafe’s ‘brothers’ start getting too close, he’s gotta remind them who you belong to p.s. i have nooo clue about frats so i just used names i found on the internet (yes, i’m in college and still have no idea about them)

“so i told the idiots at kappa sigma that they can suck my dick! i’m not working with them for the annual formal, and if they wanna run their mouths to whoever the fuck’s in charge—i really don’t give a damn,” was the first thing you heard as you walked through the door of rafe’s frat house, pi kappa phi. him and some other ‘brothers’ were scattered about in their messy living room. it was friday afternoon, so they were all just hanging out before frats opened at 11pm. almost all of them had a beer in their hand, including rafe.

he turned once he heard the sound of the door, a smile subconsciously forming on his face.

“there’s my girl,” he said, moving his arm up, waiting for you to take your place next to him. his eyes panned over your body—cropped white t-shirt with a jean skirt, and some country looking belt that hung off you, proving it was just for looks—his eyes landed on the pack of beer in your hand. it was pretty customary for you to bring drinks for the weekends—not for the parties—just for him, and the other guys.

he rested his arm on the back of the couch, telling you to put it in the refrigerator—as if this wasn’t routine.

once you returned from the kitchen, you took your spot in his arm. he craned his head to give you a quick kiss on your cheek, moving his mouth to ghost over your ear.

“how you doin’ baby?,” his voice was low, almost slurring as if he was a bit tipsy—he wasn’t, you knew that he was just getting started.

“‘m good,” you nuzzled into his touch. after a long day of classes, rafe’s presence was calming. it grounded you in a way you craved throughout the stress of your day.

he continued to talk to the guys in the room, his fingers rubbing little circles into your soft shoulder with the hand that was slung around you. your head rested between his chest and the under part of his arm.

“be right back,” he said to the other guys, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek before wandering somewhere in the house.

you suddenly felt a lot of eyes on you. you were used to these guys, but something about this exact moment felt… uneasy. you didn’t make it known that you were slightly uncomfortable though. you knew who you were—you knew how crazy your boyfriend was. they wouldn’t try anything if they knew what was good for them.

“so, y/n… long day?,” jake asked with a smirk before taking a swig of his beer. you knew all of them—unfortunately—it’s not like they were all bad, just a majority. jake included. you tried to hide the discomfort in your face. you thought you were doing a good job…

“dude. what’re you doin’?,” cam butted in before you could answer—apparently your discomfort wasn’t that hidden. he was one of the only ones without a beer in his hand, and he was probably your favorite of the guys—besides rafe, of course. he was the nicest, and he never really made you feel out of place, or uncomfortable. he kept all the other guys in check when rafe was gone—mainly because he was rafe’s right hand man, and his best friend.

“jus’ askin’ pretty girl how her day was,” his smirk still glued to his face, turning from cam back to you, still awaiting your answer.

“cut it out jake,” his tone was serious. you just sat there awkwardly, but you wanted jake to know he didn’t bother you—even if he did.

“no, no cam… it’s fine,” you began, a fake smile on your face, “my day was long. jus’ happy to come home to rafe, y’know?”

jake was clearly tipsy, maybe even already drunk. that’s the only thing that would explain the next words that came out of his mouth.

“rafe… rafe is a little bitch. wouldn’t know a pretty girl like you if it hit him,” cam gave you a look—should i jump in?—you shook your head gently, intrigue plastered over your face. you wanted to see how far jake would go. the other guys surrounding him watched him with bated breath as if he was actually making a valid point. it almost made you laugh.

“bet he can’t even make ya cum… ya ever need a real man you come to me sweetheart,” the words made you cringe. did he really think shit like that would make you… what? swoon? cam’s jaw was slacked, in utter disbelief of what just came out of his ‘brother’s mouth. you went with it—kind of.

“well, jake that is a very kind offer, but i gotta tell ya…,” you stood up from the couch, moving toward the chair he was sat on. you leaned down, right in his face—close enough for him to not just hear the words you were about to say, but feel them too.

“you shouldn’t be concerned about me getting off. rafe’s got plenty of photo proof of that,” your smile was evil, challenging. just as you moved away from jake’s face, walking back to your spot on the couch, rafe reentered the room.

“what’d i miss?,” he was clueless, you knew cam would try and tell rafe, but you didn’t want to cause even more of a scene. you weren’t jake’s biggest fan, but the things rafe would to do him if he found out were… probably illegal. and it’s hard to run a frat from jail.

“not much,” you shrugged, plopping yourself back on the couch. the look on cam’s face was just pure confusion and shock. jake’s on the other hand… well, his was just shock. you smiled to yourself while rafe made his way to sit next to you.

—

the house had so many bodies, loud music, flashing lights that would make anyone’s head spin. you were currently fighting your way through the crowd of people to get to the bathroom. once you closed the door behind you the music was a little more muted, giving you some peace. not for long.

“so i told her: if she wants a real man she can come to me. probably come for me, too,” jake’s agitating laugh could be heard from the other side of the door.

“so she got all up in my face—hot as fuck—told me not to tell rafe. that i’d be hearing from her real soon,” whatever group of people he was talking to began ‘ooo’-ing and laughing. little did you know, cam was in that group—observing. you stayed in the bathroom until their voices faded away, giving you a clear to exit.

you needed to find rafe.

luckily, he hadn’t really moved from the spot you left him in, but once you saw rafe, cam came into view too.

cam was turned away from you. you could see rafe’s face, and he was furious. his face was basically turning red, jaw locked, eyes wide and narrowed at the same time. you watched his hold on his beer bottle tighten, knuckles turning white.

even over the noise in the house, you could hear the sound of rafe’s bottle thud against the counter, followed by a “fuck no. oh, he’s fucking dead. they’re all dead.” he was about to walk away, leaving cam to himself, before his eyes caught yours. suddenly, rafe was right in front of you—towering over you.

“we gotta talk,” was all that he said before grabbing your hand, and dragging you upstairs into his room. he closed the door behind him. most of the noise was muted now, giving you a chance to talk privately.

“what did cam tell you?,” you weren’t scared of rafe when he was like this, but you were still a little concerned. he looked like he could break just about any and every thing in his room right now.

usually rafe would play mind games—ask you what you thought cam told him—but he was in no mood right now.

"told me what that jackass jake said. ‘bout how i couldn’t make you cum?,” breathless laughs were breaking up his sentence, like he couldn’t believe what he had to repeat right now.

“told me what you said…,” he leaned toward you. you swallowed hard, big eyes looking up at him. you weren’t sure how he was going to take you basically telling jake that he had explicit photos of you on his phone.

“‘nd as hot as that was…,” he began, smirking spreading across his lips, “i gotta ask– why didn’t you tell me, babe?”

“‘s not a big deal, rafe. y’know how jake is…,” you started before he cut you off. backing away from you as if he was astonished by your answer.

“yeah. i do. that’s no excuse f’r him to say the shit he did, and then go around tellin’ people you’d actually leave me for him. actin’ like you’re gonna hook up with him behind my back,” how the fuck did he know about that?

“tryna tell people my girl would go anywhere near his tiny dick. it’s laughable,” he ran his palm over his mouth like he genuinely couldn’t stifle his laugh.

“rafe…”

“no, no. he wants to play that game? we can play that game,” suddenly he grabs your wrist again, dragging you downstairs. you didn’t know what he was doing, but before you could process anything he cut the music off. everyone in the house either complaining, or looking around confused. rafe’s loud voice was the next thing to reverberate through the house.

“HEY! LISTEN UP, ANYONE WHO DOESN’T LIVE HERE—TIME TO GET THE FUCK OUT! PARTY’S OVER, ALRIGHT?,” his voice boomed in your ear, making you flinch at first. after some frustrated groans, and some ‘what the fuck’s, people began to flood out of the house.

your confusion was evident, staring up at rafe—his hold on your wrist still there, but looser now.

“what’re you doing?,” you whispered to him, his eyes not moving from the crowd leaving the house.

“don’t worry ‘bout it, baby,” he mumbled back to you before walking away from you to close the door as the last few people trickled out.

“rafe, man– what the fuck?!,” jake was walking up to rafe like he was trying to intimidate him—obviously he wasn’t. the look on rafe’s face was lethal. all rafe’s ‘brothers’ gathered around him, everyone confused except cam. not that he knew what was going on, but he did know rafe, and whatever was going on wasn’t going to be pretty.

you were still stood where rafe left you—just a few steps behind him.

“my bad bro… jus’ got some things i wanna address,” rafe’s tone was dripping with sarcasm, and a sense of humor. jake tried not to seem worried, tried to have a poker face, but you could tell he was sweating under that dingy baseball cap.

“something so important you had to kick everyone out, bro?,” one of the other guys questioned. rafe didn’t answer, just gave him one look and the guy was backing off, hands up in surrender.

"jake… anything you wanna tell me? actually, anything any of you wanna tell me?,” rafe didn’t sound this serious most of the time, so the guy were rightfully scared—well, guys minus cam.

“man, i d’know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout,” jake tried to just shrug it off, make rafe think he was crazy for this.

“don’t know what i’m talkin’ about?,” rafe had that classic fake confusion on his face, walking closer to jake, getting in his face to utter his next words.

“just figured a real man would own up to what he did before i made him own up to it… take some responsibility y’know?,” he almost whispered. he squinted his eyes with a fake smile on his face. the whole room went deadly silent, and jake’s face was nothing short of entertaining.

"you are a real man, right? at least– that’s what you told my girl,” his aggravation was starting to break through his facade. jake just stood there—he didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to come back from this.

"lemme ask you somethin’… how many people left this house tonight under the impression that my girlfriend was gonna hook up with you behind my back? hm?,” he was furious at this point. it was one thing to speak that way to you in the first place, but run around and lie? tell everyone rafe cameron couldn’t keep his girl satisfied? oh, his blood was boiling. you just stood still where you were. when rafe got like this there was no stopping him—it was no use, and you knew that.

jake was grasping at straws at this point, “listen man, i don’t know what y/n told you… but it’s a lie. okay? i didn’t say shit to her, rafe. and i didn’t say shit to anyone else.”

“jake… jakey boy! how stupid d’you think i am? you really thought i wouldn’t find out? as if the rest of this story wasn’t humiliating enough—i’m almost offended,” rafe had turned his back on him at this point, giving you that evil smirk one more time before quickly turning on his heel, and punching straight into jake’s nose.

a loud crack! sounded through the room, jake’s hand immediately coming to hold his bleeding—probably broken—nose, bending over in pain, droplets of blood hitting the floor. rafe leaned down to get on his level.

“get. the fuck. out. i see you anywhere near this house, myself, or my girl again. you’ll wish i had just killed you tonight,” he spoke quietly, but his message was clear as day. jake quickly exited the house, but not before muttering a quick ‘you’re fucking insane cameron’.

rafe shook his hand out, moving his fingers to combat the pain from direct contact with jake’s bone.

“oh, and just so everyone’s clear… i’m goin’ easy on those of you who let him say that shit—those of you who gassed him up after he said that nasty shit to y/n. you’re on thin ice, yeah? say shit like that to my girl again, and you’ll wish i only broke your nose.”

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[nadvs]

cam girl (part one)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

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

» masterlist

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

“Make sure to bend down real low.” Rafe’s deep voice startles you.

You’re kneeling down as you fill the freezer with the groceries that were just delivered. You thought you were alone in the massive kitchen, but sure enough, Rafe is taunting you again.

You don’t even need to turn to look at him to know he’s wearing a self-satisfied smirk. A depraved part of you is excited he’s there.

“Is there anything I can get you?” you mutter, your attention still focused on your work. It’s your go-to phrase whenever he bothers you. Professional, but not exactly friendly.

“Yeah, is that the only uniform they give you?” he asked. “You don’t have anything tighter?”

You stand and turn to finally look at him. His baseball hat is on backwards and his arms are crossed, large biceps bulging beneath the hem of his t-shirt.

You smooth down the loose gray knee-length dress you’re wearing and you swear he’s undressing you with his coy blue eyes. You hate that it arouses you when he looks at you like that.

You’ve gotten used to Rafe teasing you. You’re almost sure he gets off on degrading you. There are other maids but you’re the only one he does this to.

“Nope, this is it,” you say curtly. If you didn’t need this job, you’d cuss this man out. Probably even slap him. But you need to stay cordial, and he knows that, riding the power trip whenever he can.

“Too bad.” Rafe knocks on the kitchen island before turning to leave. “I can tell you’re hiding a nice ass under there.”

You feel your cheeks burn as you go back to work. You only come to work at the estate on Wednesdays and Saturdays and the days can’t go by fast enough.

You appreciate every dollar you can make these days as a struggling college student. Thankfully, your other job as a cam girl has been bringing in more and more money.

After you finish up your day at the Camerons’ estate, you drive your rusted, old car to your apartment in the south part of the island. The space is tiny, but it’s yours, and it’s good enough for now.

You go live for half an hour at 10 pm every other night of the week. Getting your start as a cam girl took some time, but now you have 32 subscribers and are starting to make good money off the website.

Tonight, you’re dressed in a black push-up bra and matching thong. You never show your face higher than your lips, refusing to risk anyone recognizing you.

This is just for the money, although you can admit to yourself that you find pleasure in knowing you can turn on so many strangers with your body. You sit on your bed, your toys ready off-screen.

Over your last session, a new user with the screen-name figure8 joined your chat. It threw you for a loop for a moment, prompting you to worry it was somebody you know from the Kooks’ part of the island, but the chances are slim. Figure 8 is a general term and the man could be from anywhere.

“Hey,” you say slowly. “How was everyone’s day? Mine was so long.”

figure8 didn’t say anything the other night, just watched and subscribed at the end of the stream, but tonight, he types something a minute into the session as you sit in front of the camera, running your hands over your satin bra.

figure8: you gonna show those perfect tits?

You giggle, immediately stepping into your cam girl persona. You check to see that twelve users are now viewing your stream.

“You’d like that, huh?” you ask, peeling off a bra strap. “Anyone else wanna see what’s underneath?”

You notice the bouncing dots on the screen that tell you that viewers are typing.

v2bo: yes

dragon89: take it off

stonyon: play with your tits

You strip off your bra, touching yourself, your breath hitching as arousal tightens in your core.

Without hesitation, you picture Rafe’s hands on you. He’s always on your mind during your cam sessions as you impulsively imagine his broad frame on top of you, dominating you.

You try to play it off when he taunts you at work, but it’s not until you’re touching yourself that you realize just how much it turns you on when he talks to you the way he does in his deep, mocking tone.

figure8: you like to get your tits played with?

You smirk, surprised someone is asking you what you enjoy. Typically, viewers like to simply compliment you or order you around, but you never get asked about your preferences.

“I love getting my tits played with,” you purr.

You press your arms to squeeze your tits together.

figure8: you like a cock between your tits don’t you princess

The sexy nickname makes you quiver a little. You bite your bottom lip.

“I’m so wet already,” you moan. “And thinking about a cock right here…”

You take a dildo you keep off-screen and place it between your tits. You part your lips as you rub the toy up and down, hearing the chimes of tips from your chat coming in.

figure8: bet you’re so good at sucking dick. i’d fuck your tits and that pretty little mouth so nicely

“You wanna see how I use my mouth?” you tease.

v2bo: deepthroat

You put the tip of the dildo on your tongue, flicking and rolling it. When you finally put your mouth around it, you close your eyes, thinking of Rafe in his kitchen, thinking of getting on your knees and sucking him off.

dragon89: put it in your pussy

A new notification pops up on your screen: figure8 is requesting a private show. Your heart-rate skyrockets.

You’d never gotten the request before. You had set the rate at $250 for a private session, half-expecting that you wouldn’t get any takers. You’re excited about the money and the fact that this new, intriguing viewer is the one who requested it.

You quickly type privately to figure8: This session ends at 10:30 and then I’m all yours, baby.

You continue to play with the dildo using your mouth, getting it wet all over, when a private chat comes in from figure8: how much for u to end the live and go private with me right now?

You don’t want to risk asking for too much and scaring the man away, but the possibility of making more in a private session than you would in a live one is compelling.

You never know much the live sessions will bring, but a private show is guaranteed money. Ending your session early might piss off your subscribers and maybe even make you lose some of them… but you impulsively reply: $1000.

Within a few seconds, you get a tip notification.

figure8 tipped you $1000.

You quickly end your live session, deciding to later tell your subscribers that your internet went out, then open the private session with figure8.

“Hello,” you whisper. “You want me to be your own personal toy, huh?”

figure8: i dont like to share

You laugh. If he’s willing to continue to pay you for private sessions, you’re happy to oblige.

“What would you like to see?” you ask. “You wanna see how I’d suck your cock?”

figure8: tap it against your mouth

“You’d tease me, wouldn’t you?” you whisper. You tap the dildo on your lips, sticking out your tongue.

figure8: princess i’d go so slow with you until you’re soaked and begging for my cock

You feel yourself get wetter reading his words. He’s not like any of the other viewers you’ve had. He’s asking what you like, calling you a sweet name, not rushing anything.

“You want me aching for it, huh?” you purr. You put the dildo in your mouth again, slowly sucking and slurping.

figure8: that mouth is so fucking pretty

You continue to lick and suck, moaning on the toy, your panties drenched now.

“I want it inside me,” you say, realizing you’re not even speaking through your persona anymore. You’re actually turned on by him, actually wanting to fuck yourself with the dildo.

figure8: not yet. keep sucking it

You giggle, half-frustrated, and obey him.

“You touching yourself right now?” you ask.

figure8: yeah. wanna see?

You have the option of enabling media from viewers, but you never thought you’d want to see a stranger like that. But this man is something else. You click on the button to allow him to send you a photo.

“Send it so I can imagine you hard in my mouth,” you purr.

A few moments pass before the picture comes in. He’s lying down in bed, showing a bit of his toned stomach, his large hand at the base of his dick. It’s thick and long and so damn perfect.

“Shit,” you whisper. “Such a nice cock. I don’t think I could fit it all in my mouth.”

You’re not just saying it to flatter him. He’s huge.

figure8: you could if you tried hard enough

You lick your lips, pushing the dildo deep into your mouth, gagging a little.

figure8: the way you choke on it is so hot. fuck

“How am I doing?” you coo.

figure8: such a good girl. let me see how you touch your pussy. keep the panties on

The praise makes you ache for it even more. This started off as a job, a way to make money, but now you’re genuinely excited, wishing this guy could fuck you for real.

You tilt your laptop down, spreading your legs in front of the camera as you sit on your bed. Your thong is still on, but it’s see-through. You watch yourself on the screen, tits still in view as you put your hand over your pussy.

figure8: be slow with it

“You’re torturing me, you know,” you giggle. “I’m not a patient girl.”

figure8: i’ll make u be patient. i want u to beg

“Please let me take these panties off,” you whimper. “I need to touch myself.”

figure8: put your panties to the side

You obey, moaning at the pleasure of your fingers finally on your clit. You rub in circles and up and down, trembling.

figure8: wish i could eat you out right now. you want my mouth on your pussy?

“Fuck, I’d love that,” you say, imagining Rafe looking up at you through his beautiful eyes as he licks your pussy.

figure8: show me how wet you are. put your fingers up to the camera

You do as you’re told, showing him your wetness as it shimmers in the white light from the screen.

“See how much you turn me on?” you say.

figure8: take the panties off and stretch out your pussy lips

You eagerly slide your underwear off and throw them beside your bed. With your legs spread again, you pull your lips apart, giving him the perfect view.

figure8: good girl. you listen so well

You get a notification that he tipped you $500. You never thought you’d make this much money in one night.

“Thank you, baby,” you giggle. “You love this pussy, huh?”

figure8: ur so fucking perfect. i want to cum inside u. put the dildo in nice and slow, princess

“Finally,” you say. “Your cock would slide in so easily right now. I’m so fucking wet.”

The toy fills you perfectly, making you quiver. You start to slowly thrust it in and out, but the chat chimes again.

figure8: i know you’re needy but i said slow. put the dildo in and move your hand. i wanna see it inside you

“Sorry,” you tease. You move your hand so he can see the toy inside you. You watch yourself in the screen, the dildo hugged perfectly between your walls.

figure8: you’d squeeze my cock so fucking well

“What if you’re too big for me, hmm?”

figure8: princess we’d make it fit

You’re nearly writhing at this point. You scroll back up to see his nude photo again, imagining it inside of you.

“Your dick is so fucking nice,” you groan.

figure8: show me how you like to be fucked. make yourself cum. don’t fake it. i wanna hear u cum for real

You obey, thankful he’s finally letting you orgasm. You hold the base of the toy and plunge it in and out of you, the lewd sound filling your bedroom, and use your other hand to rub your clit. You whimper, making sure to keep your face out of frame, imagining this stranger thrusting into you.

You let the sounds of pleasure spill out of your mouth, uninhabited, knowing he’s stroking his dick to you right now.

The orgasm hits you hard, your legs shaking. You’re panting as you look at your screen to see what he said.

figure8: i just came so fucking hard

“I wish your cum was inside of me,” you say breathlessly. You try to catch your breath as he continues to type.

figure8: what’s ur favorite position?

“Doggy,” you say, surprised he wants to know more. “What’s yours?”

figure8: thats mine too. you can show me next time, princess

“You wanna do this again, huh?” you tease.

figure8: i dont want you showing your body to any other guy. i’ll pay you double what you make on your streams if you only do private shows for me

The idea intrigues you. It’s sexy how he doesn’t want to share you at all.

“How often you want to do these, baby?” you ask.

figure8: every night. i’ll give you 1000 for every show and tips for when you deserve it. i want to buy you some things and watch you use them. you’re mine and mine only

The thought of making $1000 a night is unbelievable. This guy is loaded with cash and wants to spend so much on you.

You would lose the following you worked hard to get, but you’d undoubtedly make way more money being this man’s personal cam girl.

“Deal,” you finally say with a disbelieving laugh. “Same time tomorrow?”

figure8: don’t be late

The chat window notifies you that he left. You’re still breathless, shocked at how you didn’t have to fake the orgasm with him.

You scroll to find his dick pic again, as if you’re addicted to looking at it. You turn your camera off and now that you can angle your screen up, you can take a better look at the image.

Your stomach drops. The gold ring around his forefinger. The bedsheets you change twice a week. You know who it is.

The man you just orgasmed with was Rafe.

{ read part two here }

[dulceamore]

kiss me — pedro pascal

pairings pedro pascal x actress!reader

summary at a basketball game, you and pedro are unexpectedly featured on the kiss cam. the next day, pictures spreads across the internet. capturing your expressions and the reactions from both your fans.

tags cuteness overload. cutie pedro. unspecified agegap. reader is an actress

a/n i know nothing abt basketball, don't attack me. inspired by the scene from how to lose a guy in 10 days. yes, i picture pedro wearing that pink jacket from the interview. he's adorable. everything about him is adorable. i actually don't think commentators speak during a kiss cam, but in here, they do.

masterlist

the arena buzzes with energy, the crowd roaring as the basketball game intensifies. you and pedro are wrapped up in the excitement, laughing, cheering until the game pauses for a commercial break.

that’s when the entertainment crew decides to stir up some fun. the kiss cam flickers to life on the massive screen, scanning through the audience in search of unsuspecting couples.

"kiss me" by sixpence none the richer begins to play.

"kiss me out of the bearded barley,"

the camera lands on a seemingly cute pair. a young man and woman seated together.

but instead of leaning in, the guy casually reaches into his pockets and unfolds a piece of paper and holds it up to the camera.

bold, unmistakable letters read: "that's my sister!"

with a giant arrow pointing right at her.

the commentators lose it.

"he came prepared for this!" one shouts, barely getting the words out between bursts of laughter.

"that is elite kiss cam defense. incredible preparation," the other adds.

"that is just fucking hilarious!" pedro who is beside you, is absolutely cackling, leaning forward in his seat like he just witnessed peak cinema.

"that guy knew exactly what he was doing," he continued.

"kind of iconic," you reply. your own laughter bubbling over as the camera lingers on the siblings, the sister hiding her face in embarrassment while her brother proudly holds up his sign like he just won an mvp award.

"wait… hold on—" one of the commentators blurts out with disbelief. "is that pedro freaking Pascal?"

"and the most gorgeous woman in the world?" the other chimes in, fueling the crowd’s hysteria.

"harry, isn't your wife here?"

then—bam. the kiss cam swings right back to the two of you, and the stadium erupts.

"look at the pedro pascal losing his mind over this," one commentator adds, shifting attention to your section of the arena.

"and his girlfriend losing composure!"

pedro looks at the camera and raises his hands in surrender, still laughing. "i respect it!" he shouts playfully toward the screen, making the crowd cheer even louder.

"kiss! kiss! kiss!"

"oh, this is happening," one of them says.

"the crowd has spoken. pedro pascal, do you accept your fate?" says the other commentator.

pedro exhales dramatically, throwing his arms up. "oh, so this is happening now?"

you bite your lip, eyes flickering between him and the screen.

"It appears so."

"oh, kiss me beneath the milky twilight lead me out on the moonlit floor,"

pedro turns fully toward you, tilting his head with that signature mischief—the kind that means trouble, but also means unforgettable moments.

"i feel like we have two choices," he muses. "make this the most awkward kiss in history… or make it stadium-shakingly good."

you raise an eyebrow, pretending to consider. "what if we just—" you mimic holding up a sign. "‘that’s my distant cousin!’"

pedro bursts out laughing, but the crowd is not letting either of you escape.

"sweetheart, i think they’ll riot," he points out.

"wouldn't be the first time," you tease.

he cups your face, warmth spreading through his fingertips, leaning in as the moment unfolds in slow-burn stadium perfection.

your pulse quickens, the sound of 'kiss me' weaving through the cheers, the chanting, the electricity in the air. pedro’s gaze flickers between your lips and your eyes. checking, teasing, giving you a split second to catch your breath.

then, he leans in.

the warmth of his lips meets yours, his hand tilting your chin ever so slightly to deepen the moment. the stadium erupts around you.

pedro lingers just enough for the kiss to feel unhurried, deliberate, like he’s giving the crowd exactly what they wanted but more than that, like he’s giving you a moment to remember.

intimate. slow. calculated.

as he pulls away, his lips barely ghosting against yours for a fraction of a second longer than necessary, his grin is downright smug.

"that," he murmurs, voice tinged with amusement, "is how you win the kiss cam."

you shake your head, laughing. "you’re ridiculous."

the crowd? absolutely losing it.

the sportscasters? speechless.

the internet? about to implode.

"oh— oh my god, did you see that?" one of them shouts, his voice nearly drowned out by the crowd’s reaction.

"ladies and gentlemen, that is how you absolutely win the kiss cam," the other adds, sounding equally impressed.

the first commentator doesn’t even try to hold back, "pedro pascal did not come to play. that was some cinematic-level execution right there."

the second one laughs, shaking his head. "listen, i’ve seen a lot of kiss cam moments, but that? that was a whole feature film."

the cameras linger for a few seconds longer, capturing pedro’s victorious, smug grin and your breathless laughter. then, just when the moment feels like it’s starting to settle, the commentator jumps back in.

"you know what? jerald, roll it back. show the slow-mo!"

as soon as the slow-motion replay starts rolling, the stadium erupts with cheers, some whistling, but what really sells it is the camera crew doubling down on the moment.

because instead of letting the kiss cam segment simply play out, they pan back to you and pedro.

and the timing? absolutely brutal.

both of you whip your heads toward the giant screen, watching in real time horror as the kiss replays, now dramatically slowed down, every detail magnified.

pedro catches sight of the camera zooming in and immediately dropped his head into his hands like he’s physically pained by the replay. you, on the other hand, stare at the screen, mouth slightly open, blinking rapidly like you’re trying to process what’s happening in real time.

the way pedro leans in. the way your fingers tighten ever so slightly around his pink fluffy jacket. the way the crowd’s cheers roars.

you clap a hand over your mouth, half laughing, half dying inside, while the stadium loses it all over again. the commentators? they’re having the time of their lives.

pedro finally peeks through his fingers, watching the slow-mo unfold.

"this is an attack," he mutters.

you shake your head, "honestly, we had it coming."

"we’re never recovering from this."

"oh, absolutely not," you agree, still wide-eyed at the absurdity of the situation.

despite the chaos unfolding on the stadium screen. despite the slow-motion replay capturing every detail of the kiss. pedro still can’t stop smiling.

there’s this undeniable glint in his eyes.

he’s enjoying the moment, the ridiculousness, the fact that somehow, this simple kiss cam feature has turned into an event and at the center of it? you and him.

"would it be too dramatic if i left the country over this?"

"yes."

by the next morning, the internet does what it does best. pictures from different angles flood social media. your expressions, pedro’s effortless charm, the exact second your eyes met before the kiss.

all captured and shared. then come the comments.

user: this is straight out of a rom-com. who’s directing their life?? user: pedro pascal being effortlessly suave and her looking like the main character?? yeah, i’m invested. user: pedro pascal looks like he’s living his best life, and honestly? so is the angel beside him. user: KISS CAM HISTORY. I REPEAT—HISTORY. user: legends. absolutely legendary behavior. user: the universe ships them harder than I do. user: THIS IS THE MOST ROMANTIC THING I HAVE EVER SEEN. user: pedro pascal and his gorgeous girlfriend breaking the internet by just EXISTING in romantic situations.

"i fucking love the comments," he mutters. as you two read the comments together.

pedro sets his phone down, turning toward you and meeting your eyes. his eyes soften, that familiar playfulness still lingering, but there’s something quieter now, more intimacy.

"if we’re gonna be known for winning the kiss cam… we should at least live up to the reputation."

before you can respond, he cups your face again. this time with no cameras, no stadium, no crowd. just warmth, his lips meeting yours in a kiss far slower, far softer than the one in the kiss cam.

and no one is watching.

[sirxaibs]

Dick Grayson | Nightwing X Reader

ᨒ ོ ☼ Voice on the Line ᨒ ོ ☼

I feel hes a munch. I feel hes a woman lover. He loves women. Him when women. Also did i think about Garcia and Morgan when writing this? yeah…. and what about it?

masterlist

You’re the newest addition to the Batsquad. Cant help if you’re basically forced to talk to eye candy all night. Though what if the eye candy wants you back.

ᨒ ོ ☼ The hum of servers filled the air like a lullaby, soft and steady behind the clack of your manicured fingers dancing across the keyboard. Multiple monitors cast a warm glow against your skin as codes flickered by, surveillance cams blinked into motion, and the Gotham skyline lit up under your careful watch. You chewed on a pink pen cap thoughtfully, then leaned into the mic on your headset.

“Alright, Bat Team, eyes up. Cameras just caught movement on the east perimeter. Looks like our guy’s not late to his own robbery party.” Static.

“Copy that,” came a deep voice laced with just enough sarcasm to make your lips twitch. “And here I was hoping for a quiet night.”

The soft glow of neon lights from Gotham’s skyline bled into the Watchtower’s tech room, giving everything a purple blue hue. The glow reflected off your screens, lighting up your face as your fingers flew across the keyboard. Surveillance cams, thermal feeds, encrypted audio all of it filtered through your custom built comms system. You leaned back in your chair, twirling said pink pen through your fingers. Your voice came through sweet as sugar, laced with a barely hidden smirk.

“Watch yourself Nightwing, I hope you’re wearing something cute under all that kevlar. You’re live on all my cams tonight.”

A low chuckle filtered through your headset, rough around the edges in the way that always made your stomach flip.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite guardian angel,” Nightwing drawled, voice dipped in charm he wore like a second skin. “What would I do without your voice whispering sweet nothings into my ear?”

“You’d probably walk into a wall,” you said sweetly. “Or into that very large man standing behind the dumpster on 5th and Main.”

There was a beat of silence, then a soft thwack through the mic.

“You mean that wasn’t a trash can?” he teased, slightly breathless. “How dare you underestimate my night vision, sugar.”

You grinned, propping your cheek in your palm as you tracked his movement across the rooftops. “Sugar now, huh? Is that your new nickname for me?”

“Unless you prefer ‘Sweetheart.’ Or ‘Hot Stuff.’ I’m flexible.”

You let out a melodic laugh, not even trying to hide it. “Wow, your flirting game is tragic tonight. You okay out there, Nightwing? Hit your head on a chimney?”

“I’m just warming up,” he said, voice low and smooth. “Wait ‘til I meet you in person. Then I’m turning the charm up to eleven.”

You opened your mouth to volley back but Barbara’s voice cut in like a whip.

“Alright, you two cut it.”

You both froze.

“Lock in,” Barbara said, her voice firm and dry as dust. “This isn’t a late night radio show. We’ve got multiple armed targets on the ground and a hostage situation developing five blocks south. Thermal (your hero name), patch the thermal overlay to Nightwing’s HUD.”

You straightened in your chair, fingers flying. “Yes, ma’am. Thermal incoming.”

“Nightwing,” Barbara added with the tone of a fed up older sister, “try keeping your tongue in your mouth for five minutes. You’re on mission, not a date.”

“Harsh, Babs,” he muttered.

“I’m just saying,” she continued, “if I had a dollar for every time I had to listen to the two of you flirt in the middle of a crisis, I could afford a better coffee maker.”

You bit your lip to hold back a laugh, then cleared your throat. “Aww, c’mon, Babs. Can’t a girl multitask? I can route power to Nightwings grappling line and boost morale at the same time.”

“I don’t need morale,” Nightwing interjected. “I need a distraction. Preferably wearing those glasses you mentioned last week.”

“You remember that?” you teased.

“I remember everything you say, Sweetheart.”

Barbara groaned audibly. “I’m leaving this room before I’m forced to bleach my ears.”

“I mean,” you added sweetly, “he’s just mad he can’t picture me behind this desk, legs crossed, looking very professional while saving his butt.”

Nightwing whistled. “If I didn’t have to stop a robbery, I’d be scaling that tower right now.”

Barbara’s voice snapped back over the channel like a rubber band. “Focus, both of you.”

“Copy that,” you said, suddenly all business again as you leaned forward and zoomed in on the warehouse entrance. “Three guards posted up. One pacing, one smoking, one with a submachine gun. Interior layout uploaded to your HUD. Entry through the southeast vent is clear. You’re greenlit, Nightwing.”

“See? She flirts, but she gets it done,” he muttered fondly.

You grinned. “I always stand on business, baby.”

“Then I better bring my A game. Wouldn’t want to disappoint my favorite tech goddess.”

You laughed quietly, adjusting your headset as you pulled up the emergency response grid. “Just don’t get shot, Nightwing.”

Barbara let out one final sigh before muttering, “I swear, I should’ve let Batman take this shift.”

But despite her grumbling, you swore you saw a smile tug at the corners of her lips as she turned away.

He grunted, and you could tell it was the kind of laugh he didn’t want you to hear.

“Let’s make a deal,” he said suddenly. “You keep me alive tonight, and I’ll finally let you buy me a coffee.”

You blinked. That was new. “You mean you buy me a coffee? Bold of you to assume you’re that charming.”

“You do call me every night.”

“Because it’s my job, Nightwing.”

Your own heart beat just a little faster as Nightwing’s icon approached the rendezvous point. It was almost always like this. Take the next day where you were thrown completely out of your own loop You were sprawled comfortably in the comms chair, pink converse kicked up on the desk, a bag of sour candy at your side, and at least three drinks within reach because hydration and caffeination were essential for optimal management.

Tonight’s mission? Barely a blip on the Bat Radar. A stakeout near the docks. Zero hostiles so far. Minimal risk. Maximal boredom.

“Nightwing,” you poured into your mic, stretching dramatically, “how’s the air up there on your boring little rooftop? You see anything exciting? UFOs? Pirates? A raccoon that looks like Bruce?”

“Negative on the Bruce raccoon,” Nightwing said through the comms, voice thick with amusement. “But thanks for the nightmare fuel, Sweetheart.”

“I try,” you chirped, popping another piece of candy into your mouth. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”

“You keep me somewhere, alright,” he murmured, just low enough to think you wouldn’t catch it.

You did. You always did. Before you could respond with another flirty jab, a new voice crackled in gruffer, sharper. Dry as sandpaper and twice as moody.

“Are you always like this?” Jason Todd’s voice cut in like a knife through silk. “I’ve been listening for ten minutes and I already want to uninstall my ears.”

You beamed, leaning closer to the mic like he could see your grin. “Red Hood! My favorite grump. Took you long enough to say hi.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he deadpanned.

“Oh, please. You love it,” you teased, swiveling in your chair like it helped transmit your energy. “I’m your emotional support chatterbox. You’d cry without me.”

“Unlikely.”

“Then why are you still listening?” you asked sweetly, tapping into his drone cam and watching as he crouched in the shadows near an old shipping container. “I see you didn’t even mute me. That’s gotta mean something.”

Jason sighed. The tiniest sigh. A truce in breath form.

“…You’re ridiculous.”

“And adorable, don’t forget that part.”

“Why does she talk to you like that?” Nightwing asked suddenly, cutting in with playful suspicion. “She doesn’t call me ‘adorable.’”

“I like to flirt with people who pretend to hate it,” you replied easily. “Keeps ‘em humble.”

Jason made a quiet scoffing noise. “You think I’m humble?”

“No,” you said, smirking. “But I do think you blush when I call you sweetheart.”

There was a long pause.

“…I’m turning off my comm.”

“You won’t,” you sang.

Before Jason could craft a dry comeback or fake a signal cut out, Nightwing returned this time with a tone that could only be described as smug older brother meets possessive flirt.

“Alright, alright,” Dick said, and you could hear his smirk. “Let’s not get carried away, Sweetheart. You do have a date coming up. With me, remember?”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Oh yeah,” he continued smoothly, “you promised me coffee after our last op. Pretty sure that counts.”

“That was a tactical bribe to keep you alive,” you said quickly, cheeks burning despite your best effort. “Totally not binding.”

Jason actually chuckled at that chuckled. A small miracle.

“Well,” Dick said, clearly enjoying himself, “binding or not, I’ll be at that new café on 7th tomorrow at ten. You’re welcome to back out, but I do know where your candy stash is hidden in the Watchtower fridge.”

Your jaw dropped. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

“You absolute menace.”

“See you then, Sweetheart.”

Jason exhaled like he was regretting all of his life choices.

“God, you’re both exhausting.”

You smiled, sweet and unbothered. “Don’t be jealous, Jay. I can pencil you in for brunch on Sunday.”

He groaned but didn’t mute you. Which, in your book, meant you weren’t the loser here .

𖤓˖⁺‧₊☽𓅨☾₊‧⁺˖𖤓

The room was quiet now.

The static from the comms had faded, the mics had all gone cold, and the buzz of conversation that had filled the Watchtower’s tech room just minutes ago had slipped into silence. You were alone, save for the hum of machines and the low, rhythmic click of a monitor blinking back to standby.

You leaned back in your chair slowly, arms folding over your chest as you stared blankly at the screens. Your bubbly persona so easy to slip into when surrounded by voices, teasing banter, and fast flying intel started to crack beneath the weight of the quiet.

It always did, when the room emptied.

He wanted coffee. Dick Grayson wanted to meet you. A date.

The thought hit you again, more real now than when he first said it in that casual, cocky tone of his. You’d brushed it off, played along, tossed flirtation back like you always did but now? Sitting alone, no distraction, no one listening?

You felt it. That creeping, slow turning anxiety curling in your stomach.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about what he looked like before. Sure, you’d heard his voice, shared late night chatter across missions, and even made him laugh more than once. But imagining him? That was easy. Everyone in the Bat Family was objectively hot. Like, annoyingly so.

And you? You swallowed hard, curling your knees up into your chair and hugging them gently.

You weren’t anything like them. Not tall or sleek or scarred from combat. Not graceful in a catsuit or strong enough to throw a punch through a wall. You weren’t stick thin, but you weren’t curvy in a dramatic way either. You existed somewhere in the middle comfortable in hoodies, always in glasses, a bit awkward when the spotlight came too close. Your brain was your strongest muscle, and it sometimes felt like that was all you had.

Would he be disappointed?

You let out a slow breath, eyes flicking to your reflection in the dark screen across from you. No makeup, hair pulled back, sweater two sizes too big. You looked like someone who blended into a crowd. Like someone no one would stop for a second glance. What if you showed up and he just… didn’t see you the way he did over comms? What if the mystery was the only thing that made you interesting?

Your hand reached out instinctively, pressing your fingers to the edge of the console like you were grounding yourself.

You wanted to meet him. Of course you did. He was charming, and kind beneath all the jokes, and smart in the ways only someone who’d been through hell could be. But a date? That felt like something other people did. People who didn’t feel the need to hide behind tech and sarcasm to feel confident.

You sat there in silence, chewing your lip, wondering if he even knew what he was asking when he said, “see you then.”

Maybe it wasn’t a real date. Maybe he didn’t think of it like that.

But deep down, you knew you wanted it to be. You wanted to be seen. And you were scared of what would happen if you really were.

𖤓˖⁺‧₊☽𓅨☾₊‧⁺˖𖤓

Dick Grayson stood in front of the mirror of his Blüdhaven apartment, tugging at the hem of his sweatshirt like it was a tux. Casual. Chill. Low key. That was the goal.

So why the hell did he feel like he was prepping for a mission?

He ran a hand through his hair, tousling it for the third no, fourth time. Dark jeans, clean white sneakers, a navy hoodie that fit just right not too fitted, not too loose. He changed shirts three times before this one finally felt like the right one. He hadn’t been this particular about his outfit since prom.

“It’s not a date,” he told his reflection. “It’s just coffee.”

A pause.

“…With the girl who knows all your safe houses, your secret patrol routes, and who once talked you through stitching your own shoulder at 3 a.m. without flinching.”

Okay. Maybe a little more than just coffee.

He reached for his phone on the counter. One unread text waited at the top of the screen.

Comms girl <3: You sure about this?

Comms girl <3:You don’t have to meet me.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard before he typed back quickly.

bluebird: I’m very sure. You owe me that coffee, remember? I risked my life for that latte.

Your reply came within seconds.

Comms girl <3: You were five feet from the guy. I stalled him with a fake 911 ping. YOU’RE WELCOME.

He chuckled, thumbs flying across the screen.

blurbird : Still counts. Heroics were involved. You agreed to a reward. No backing out now.

Comms girl <3: Still time to change your mind. Could just keep this mystery thing going. It’s fun. Less risky.

He stared at that message a moment longer than he wanted to admit. There was a strange comfort in the way things were. The comms. The banter. The way your voice softened when his breathing grew strained after a tough fight. How you’d scold him for reckless moves and then follow up with, “But also… that flip you did? Sick as hell.”

You were part of the job no, more than that. You were part of him. But only in fragments.

He’d seen the pieces you gave: your voice, your wit, your ridiculous caffeine addiction, the hum of music sometimes playing faintly in the background when you were on shift. But he’d never seen you.

Meanwhile, you’d seen everything.

bluebird: You’ve seen my file, haven’t you?

he typed.

bluebird: I know what color your eyes are. I haven’t even seen yours.

Comms girl <3: Don’t worry. They’re not laser eyes or anything.

Comms girl <3: Still time to run. I won’t be mad.

Dick stared at the screen, thumb resting over the keyboard again. A few moments passed. Then he typed back:

bluebird: I don’t want to run. I want to meet you. For real.

Read. But no reply. He locked his phone, shoved it into the pocket of his hoodie, and grabbed his keys and helmet. Outside, the early evening had begun to spill across the Blüdhaven skyline. Fading light. Long shadows.

For once, he wasn’t slipping into the shadows himself. He was stepping into the sun.

𖤓˖⁺‧₊☽𓅨☾₊‧⁺˖𖤓

The café on 7th was a small, tucked away place with mismatched chairs and the smell of cinnamon and roasted espresso clinging to every wooden beam. A warm corner of the city where life slowed down just a little. He arrived ten minutes early. Too early.

The bell above the door jingled, and instinct kicked in. He scanned. Two older women by the window, a guy with earbuds tapping at a laptop, a bored barista pulling espresso shots with dead eyes. No sign of you.

He ordered her drink extra sweet, extra foamy, “liquid sunshine,” you once called it and a black coffee for himself. Settled into a table by the window. Full view of the door. He texted you again.

bluebird: I’m here. No pressure. But I brought your order. It’s waiting patiently.

Nothing.

He flicked the lid of the cup. Checked the time. Tapped his knee beneath the table. Every chime of the bell had him sitting up straighter, breath held in quiet anticipation.

Not her.Not yet.

And that was the thing he didn’t even know what she looked like. No name. No face. Just a voice in his ear, a rhythm in his nights, a lifeline during the chaos. But even without a face, even without a name, he knew you.

He leaned back and watched the doorway like it held all the answers. Maybe it did.

His phone buzzed again.

Comms girl <3: I’m close. Just… taking a second.

He stared at that message. His heart did a quiet, hopeful jump.

bluebird: You nervous?l

Comms Girl: Maybe. You?

He smiled.

bluebird: I’ve fought Killer Croc, Deathstroke, and Jason with a crowbar. This is worse.

You didn’t text back right away. He waited. Sipped his coffee. Looked at your untouched drink and wondered if you’d ever actually take a sip from it. Maybe you’d just show up, apologize, and walk away. Maybe you’d turn around before even walking through the door.

You were already on the sidewalk. One breath away from stepping inside. He turned his eyes to the window, scanning every person who passed. Wondering if one of them might look in, catch his eye, smile.

Waiting. he hoped that mask off, no gadgets, no grappling hooks, no safety net that was enough. So he waited. For you.

𖤓˖⁺‧₊☽𓅨☾₊‧⁺˖𖤓

The drink was starting to sweat on the table.

Dick’s thumb spun slow, lazy circles around the lid of the cup you still hadn’t claimed. The café wasn’t busy only a few people trickled in here and there. His eyes lifted every time the door jingled, hopeful… and then dropped just as quickly.

He wasn’t used to feeling this unsteady. With the mask on, he could take a punch. Leap off a roof. Throw himself into chaos without blinking. But right now, sitting at a table with a slowly cooling cup of coffee for someone he’d never even seen before?

He was sweating more than the damn drink. The bell above the door jingled again.

And he looked.

She stepped in like she was trying not to be noticed shoulders drawn slightly inward, a quick glance around the room before her eyes dropped to the floor. She didn’t look out of place, not really. She looked… normal.

Pink Converse. Faded denim jorts hugging her hips. A plain black tank top tucked in just right to show her figure, casual and effortless. Hair pulled back loosely like she’d tried to fix it three times before giving up.

Dick’s eyes lingered…. respectfully. He wasn’t a jerk. But he was a man. And the way she looked, with nervous energy practically rolling off her in waves, had his chest tightening just a little.

Cute. Definitely cute. Attractive, sure. She was cute. Soft around the edges. Eyes wide like she wasn’t used to being looked at too long.

Dick’s gaze flicked down, then back up not lingering too long. A polite once over. Curious. Gentle. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he looked away.

He didn’t know what to expect. For all the times he’d imagined this moment, all the late night banter and daydreams of what she might look like, he’d never settled on a face.

Still watching her from the corner of his eye, Dick slowly reached for his phone and typed out a message.

bluebird: “I’m by the window. Got your sugar bomb of a drink already. You close?”

The girl the maybe you girl jumped slightly when her phone buzzed. Fumbled it out of her pocket. She smiled. Just a little.

Her hand went to her phone. Dick’s screen lit up.

Comms girl <3: Already here. Just… not sure where to go.

His heart stopped. Slowly, his gaze lifted again this time with full awareness. He watched as she read his message, fingers still hovering near the screen.

Like she was laughing at herself and suddenly, everything clicked.

Dick’s breath caught for a beat. His lips tugged upward in a crooked smile as he texted again. Dick forgot how to breathe.

bluebird: Black tank. Pink shoes. You really do own those Converse.

You didn’t even look up from your phone. You were already typing.

Comms girl <3: Ok stalker, stop checking me out

He huffed a quiet laugh.

bluebird: Respectfully. Thoroughly. Definitely.

You lifted your head then, eyes meeting his across the room. Nervous. Hopeful. Your lips curved into something soft and self deprecating.

He stood before he could overthink it, heart thudding as he crossed the short space between your hesitant stillness and his table.

“You’re late,” he said, voice light, teasing.

“Fashionably,” you replied, walking with him as he guided you toward the window seat. “Also, very nearly didn’t come in. I walked past the window twice. You didn’t notice.”

“I noticed,” he said, pulling your chair out like the gentleman he rarely remembered to be. “I just didn’t know it was you. But then you looked at your phone like it offended you.”

You sat, cheeks flushed with something caught between embarrassment and amusement. “That was me realizing I sent three different versions of ‘I’m almost there’ and still sat in my car for ten minutes.”

Dick slid your coffee toward you. “Well i guess in a way you were.”

You took the cup, curling your fingers around it like it might steady you. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I still might run.”

“Do I need to stop you? I’ve got grappling hooks.”

That made you laugh. Really laugh. He liked that sound more than he expected. It wasn’t tinny over the comm. It was full, alive, right in front of him.

“God,” you groaned, lowering your head for a second. “This is so weird.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “But good weird.”

You peeked up at him. “You’re not what I expected.”

“Better or worse?”

You grinned, shy but cheeky. “You’re taller than I thought. That’s not fair. I have no defense against tall and charming.”

“Charming, huh?” He took a sip of his coffee, raising a brow over the lid. “You haven’t even heard my best lines yet.”

You rolled your eyes, the way you always did when he flirted too hard through the mic. But now it was real. Now, he could see the way you bit back a smile, the flush that crept to your ears.

“I’m not used to being looked at,” you admitted after a quiet beat. “I’m used to watching. Behind the screens. Behind the noise. I’ve seen your face a hundred times. This is… lopsided.”

He leaned forward, elbows on the table, gaze steady and warm.

“Then let’s even it out.”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Let me learn you,” he said, voice low, honest. “No comms. No mission. No static. Just… you.”

You looked away, biting your lip, your fingers tracing the lid of your cup now like he had earlier. “You’re a lot more intense in person.”

“I’m a lot of things in person,” he said, smiling. “Most of them good. Some of them bad. All of them me.”

A silence passed. Not awkward contemplative. Like both of you were quietly adjusting to the weight of seeing each other. Really seeing each other.

“I always see you in your outfit, this feels a little weird” you murmured eventually.

He grinned. “You’ll be happy to know I left the spandex at home.”

“Tragic.”

Another moment of quiet, then

“I’m glad you showed up,” he said.

You smiled down into your drink. “Yeah. Me too.”

Outside, the city moved in its usual rhythm cars, footsteps, noise. But here, at this little table by the window, something new was starting. Not a mission. Not an assignment. Just Dick and you.

𖤓˖⁺‧₊☽𓅨☾₊‧⁺˖𖤓

The coffee was long gone, but neither of them had made a move to go their separate ways.

Instead, they strolled the streets of Blüdhaven, their pace slow, like time had bent around them just for a little while. The sun had started to dip behind the buildings, casting soft golden light on the sidewalks, and the breeze stirred the trees enough to make the leaves flutter like lazy applause.

You walked beside him with your now empty cup in hand, straw still between your lips despite it having been dry for the last ten minutes. Nerves still clung to your skin, thin but persistent. You had no idea where to put your hands or how to keep your voice steady. You weren’t usually like this. Over comms, you were bold, loud, sarcastic, and playful.

But out here, in the open, without a headset and with Nightwing walking beside you in casual clothes that hugged him way too well for your nerves to take? It was different. He was real. And you were suddenly aware of every flaw you’d been trying not to think about since this morning.

“You know,” you said with a light chuckle, trying to keep your voice in that easy, familiar tone, “I honestly expected you to cancel last minute. Or like, show up but wear the mask the whole time and pretend to be mysterious.”

Dick looked over at you, one brow raised, and a smile playing at his lips. “You really thought I’d ghost you after all our late night flirting?”

You shrugged, trying to play it off, but your eyes darted away. “I mean… I dunno. Maybe.”

“You ruined that for you because i would never,” he said dramatically, then bumped his shoulder gently against yours. “I told you I was coming. I meant it.”

His voice was warm, not teasing this time. Just honest. He watched you as you gave a small smile, eyes still scanning the sidewalk like you were searching for something to say. He saw the way you carried yourself. Not shy, exactly just… cautious. Though he saw you and wanted too. All of you.

Not just the confident voice in his ear or the tech genius who could break into encrypted systems like they were open windows. He saw the little things: the nervous hand fidgeting with your cup sleeve, the way you pulled at the hem of your shorts when you thought he wasn’t looking, the practiced jokes you used to deflect any compliments.

So he gave you more of them.

“I like your shoes,” he said casually, glancing down at the worn pink Converse. “its a very you thing, reflective of your personality”

You laughed an actual laugh, not a polite one. “I don’t know if footwear can tell you my life story?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he said, nodding with mock seriousness. “Pink shoes? Total power move. I love when women.”

You shook your head, trying to hide your grin. “you love when women?”

“And the shorts?” he added. “Perfect length. Shows off those legs that have been sitting behind a computer for, what? Ninety percent of your adult life?”

“Oh my God,” you groaned, covering your face with your free hand. “You’re a menace.”

“I’ve been told worse,” he said with a wink.

You both fell into a comfortable rhythm after that. Step for step, laugh for laugh. The tension slowly ebbed away the longer he stayed near you like he was peeling back the nervous layers without ever drawing attention to them.

After a few quiet moments, you nudged him lightly with your elbow. “Okay, so serious question.”

“Hit me.”

“How the hell does this team work? I started hacking stuff and suddenly im here? ”

He laughed, raising both brows. “You tell me. You’ve got this adorable, good vibe going for you, but I’ve read some of those logs. You were wrecking firewalls like they owed you money.”

“I wasn’t that bad,” you defended with a smirk. “Okay, maybe the satellite thing was a little over the line.”

He turned to face you mid step. “Wait. What satellite thing?”

You winced, cheeks flushing. “I… might’ve accidentally hacked into a WayneTech orbital system when I thought it was an old NASA server.”

He stared at you, stunned. “You hacked WayneTech?”

“Allegedly,” you said, grinning now. “And two days later, Babs showed up in my basement. No warning, no badge, just… bam, red hair and righteous fury.”

“She must’ve been so mad.”

“She told me I was wasting potential and recruited me on the spot.”

Dick laughed again, and this time, it was full bodied, the kind that lit up his whole face. “Classic Babs.”

“Honestly? She’s the first person who ever looked at me and didn’t just see a mouthy hacker. She actually saw… me.”

His smile softened. “She does that. Did the same for me once.”

You glanced at him curiously. “Oh yeah?”

He nodded, hands tucked into his hoodie pocket. “Back when I was still figuring things out after leaving Bruce. I needed distance from the Bat stuff needed to figure out who I was when I wasn’t under the cape. Babs helped me get there. Helped me want to be more than just Robin.”

“I think you’re doing alright,” you said, bumping his shoulder this time.

“I’m trying,” he said with a shrug. “Still check in on the family though. Bruce, my brothers, Grandpa.”

You blinked. “Grandpa?”

“Alfred,” he clarified with a mischievous grin. “I started calling him that just to piss him off, but I know he secretly loves it.”

You laughed again, shaking your head. “That’s so weirdly wholesome. ‘Nightwing has emotional depth and a soft spot for butlers,’ coming to theaters this fall.”

“Hey, he’s not just a butler. He’s the butler.”

“I stand corrected.”

The sky was blushing now, soft shades of purple and orange painting the horizon. The city buzzed around you, but for once, it didn’t feel overwhelming. It felt like a quiet pocket of something special.

Dick glanced sideways at you, the wind tugging gently at your hair, and felt that same flicker in his chest again. The one that started when your voice used to crackle in his earpiece during midnight stakeouts. The one that grew stronger every time you made him laugh, or saved his ass from another security lockdown, or stayed on the line with him just so he wouldn’t be alone.

“I’m really glad we did this,” he said softly.

You looked at him, caught a sincerity in his eyes that left no room for doubt.

“Yeah,” you said, voice just as soft. “Me too.”

The air had taken on that evening crispness the kind that whispered promises of something new. The two of you were still walking, slowly now, like neither wanted to reach wherever the sidewalk might end.

Dick glanced at you again, longer this time. Not just quick, playful side glances, but a longing look. One that lingered as the fading sun touched your skin. He could see the way your lashes caught the light, the slight smile tugging at your lips as you sipped from your empty straw out of habit. The way your eyes moved when you were thinking.

You caught him staring.

“What?” you asked, arching a brow.

He shrugged with an easy, boyish grin. “Nothing. Just… you’ve got a good laugh.”

You blinked. “What, like a ‘haha’ laugh or a ‘joker is getting off’ laugh?”

He chuckled. “The kind that’s been in my ear for months, but somehow sounds better in person.”

Your stomach fluttered. You covered it with a sarcastic smile. “Are you flirting with me again, Grayson?”

“Only mildly,” he teased, then glanced ahead. “I mean, I’ve gotta pace myself. You’re kind of… addictive.”

You didn’t answer for a moment. You didn’t know how. And honestly, you were worried your voice would betray how warm your chest suddenly felt.

He didn’t press it. Just kept walking with you in step. But then he said, a little more softly:

“I never really thought about it before… how different things feel when you’re not just a voice in my ear.”

You looked over at him, curious. “Better or worse?”

He gave you a look, deadpan. “What kind of question is that?”

You tried to laugh, to brush it off, but he turned toward you fully now, walking backward a few steps so he could face you as you moved.

“You have this… energy. When we’re on comms, it’s like… controlled chaos in the best way. Keeps me grounded, keeps me alert. But now? Seeing you like, actually seeing you your expressions, your body language, your weird obsession with pink…”

“I do not!”

He smirked. “You do. It’s very cute.”

You shoved his arm lightly, heat rushing to your face. But the smile was genuine now. You were relaxing, piece by piece.

“I guess I just didn’t realize how much I’d been missing until now,” he added, turning back around to walk forward again. “Hearing you’s great. But… seeing you talk? Watching your eyes move when you go on your little tech rants or when you start teasing me? It hits different.”

Your heart thudded hard.

He wasn’t saying “I want to see your face more.” But he was.

You swallowed around the growing smile and said, “Well… good thing I’m not going anywhere.”

He shot you a glance then, something soft and full of unspoken words.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “That is a good thing.”

[usagii-bun]

PART 2|| ⭑.ᐟ 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌| 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗋 ! 𝖺𝗅𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗆 𝗑 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 — 𝗇𝗌𝖿𝗐 𝟣𝟪+

PART 1 , PART 2

— (𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖻𝗒 𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗂𝗆𝗒𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗑.)

𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒...in which you are a cam girl and he is your favorite viewer OR in which you are a final year college student and he is your new professor.

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌... smut, rough sex, oral sex (f and m),possessive sex, hair-pulling, vaginal fingering, spanking, masturbating( f and m), doggy style, mating press, language (these warnings are for all 3 parts)

this is extra long cause i combined chapters 2 and 3 together from ao3 <3

word count: 12.3k

also, please do like, reblog, and comment. i love to hear your thoughts about this <33

Alhaitham stumbled back into the apartment, the faint buzz of alcohol still lingering in his system. He was slightly tipsy, though not as far gone as his roommate Kaveh, who was practically hanging off his shoulder, muttering nonsense.

"Man, you’re so uptight, even when you're drinking," Kaveh slurred, squinting at Alhaitham as though he were the most complex puzzle in existence. "I swear, you could be at a rave and still look like you’re solving a theorem." He laughed, his voice echoing through the empty hallway.

Alhaitham rolled his eyes, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Maybe I just have better things to think about than your drunken rambling," he shot back, guiding Kaveh to the couch before retreating towards his study. He'd had enough of Kaveh's inebriated philosophies for one night.

But Kaveh, as persistent as ever, wasn't finished. "Why don't you ever just… loosen up? You're going to get wrinkles from frowning so much." He waved a lazy hand in the air. "You should find a cam girl or something. It'd do you some good."

Alhaitham stopped in his tracks, turning to glare at his roommate. "That's not exactly my thing, Kaveh."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Kaveh mumbled something else, but by then, Alhaitham had already shut the door to his study, the noise fading behind him. Sitting down at his desk, he stared at the open books in front of him, trying to push the absurd conversation out of his mind. But Kaveh’s words lingered—annoyingly so. Loosen up, huh?

He huffed, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of Kaveh’s drunken comment gnaw at him. It was ridiculous, really. Alhaitham didn’t need to "loosen up" in the way Kaveh suggested. He was perfectly content with his routine. Yet, for some reason, his mind kept circling back to Kaveh’s joke.

Cam girls.

Without much thought, and more out of curiosity than anything else, Alhaitham pulled his laptop closer, typing out a quick search. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular, just mindlessly scrolling through the thumbnails of various profiles. None of them really caught his interest. It all seemed so superficial, so far from anything that would actually intrigue him.

Until he accidentally clicked on a profile.

He almost clicked out of it immediately, but something made him pause. The girl on screen—her features were soft, her expression carefully masked, but there was something in her eyes. Pain, discomfort, maybe? She shifted, and he could see she was trying to hide it, to maintain the performance, but she was clearly not okay.

Before he realized what he was doing, his fingers flew across the keyboard, tipping her to stop. He wasn’t sure why he did it. Perhaps it was the urge to help, or just the fact that he couldn’t stand to see someone in obvious pain without intervening.

A notification popped up on her screen, and she blinked, pausing in the middle of whatever she was doing. Alhaitham watched as she read his message, a look of surprise briefly crossing her face before she stopped, offering a small, grateful smile in return.

He could have left it at that. He should have. But something kept him there, his hand hovering over the request for a private session. It wasn’t about pleasure—not in the way Kaveh had implied. No, this was different. He was curious, intrigued by her reaction, her vulnerability. Before he could second-guess himself, he sent the request.

When the private session began, her demeanour was noticeably more relaxed. She wasn’t putting on the same kind of show for him as she might for others, and that suited him just fine. They didn’t talk much. He asked her if she was okay, she reassured him that she was, and for the most part, he just watched. Not in a voyeuristic way, but as if observing something—someone—he didn’t quite understand.

And when it was over, he left.

He hadn’t planned on returning. Alhaitham chalked the whole thing up to an odd impulse, one brought on by Kaveh’s careless words. Yet, as the days passed, he found his mind drifting back to her. To the softness of her features, the way her smile had changed once she knew he wasn’t there to demand anything from her. The way she had looked so at ease, even in that strange, intimate setting.

It didn’t take long before he found himself on the site again. And again.

This time, he didn’t stop at curiosity. He began to indulge, slowly, cautiously, but undeniably drawn to her. There was something about her presence—her calmness, her smile—that tugged at him in ways he didn’t fully comprehend. Maybe it was the way she carried herself, or maybe it was the contrast between her work and the moments where she let her guard down. Whatever it was, it kept pulling him back.

As the days slipped by, Alhaitham found himself returning to the site more often than he expected. It had started innocently enough, just curiosity, but now something deeper tugged at him. He’d try to focus on his work, bury himself in books, but she was always there, lingering in the back of his mind.

One night, after yet another exhausting day, he found himself logging in again, the familiar tension rising in his chest. He clicked onto her profile, waiting for the livestream to start. When she appeared on screen, his breath caught. She was wearing soft, black lingerie, the delicate lace hugging her body in a way that made his pulse quicken. There was something about the way she carried herself tonight—subtle, alluring, but also personal. Intimate, almost as if this performance wasn’t for the masses but for him alone.

Alhaitham leaned back in his chair, the screen casting a soft glow over his face as he watched her. She was teasing, slow and deliberate with her movements, but what really held him captive was the way she seemed… comfortable. Confident. It wasn’t just a performance anymore, and that realization stirred something in him.

When she shifted, her fingers trailing over her skin, he felt a heat pool low in his stomach. His gaze was fixed, his mind lost in the rhythm of her motions. He tried to keep himself detached, like he had before, but this time it was different. This time, he couldn’t stop the slow, building desire creeping through him.

She began to interact with her chat, answering questions with a soft, teasing smile, but it felt like her attention was elsewhere—on something more personal. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but Alhaitham couldn’t shake the feeling that she was aware of him watching, that she knew he was there. As if the connection they had in that first private session hadn’t been fleeting.

And when she finally glanced at the camera, eyes half-lidded, her fingers trailing lower over the soft fabric of her lingerie, something snapped in him.

Before he could stop himself, he sent a request for a private session. The notification appeared on her screen, and her lips curled into a small, knowing smile. She accepted immediately, and the screen shifted, blocking out the rest of the audience until it was just the two of them.

The atmosphere was different this time—heavier, charged with an unspoken tension. She didn’t waste time with pleasantries, her fingers moving with more intent, a soft hum escaping her lips as she settled into the space they now shared. Alhaitham’s eyes followed every movement, the heat building inside him impossible to ignore now.

“Enjoying yourself tonight?” she asked, her voice low and sultry, though there was a flicker of genuine curiosity behind her words.

He swallowed hard, his mouth dry as his nimble fingers typed a response.

User1102: You could say that.

Her lips parted in a slow smile as her hands continued their path across her body, teasing the lace of her lingerie aside just enough to reveal more of her soft skin. “You seem… different tonight.”

Alhaitham's fingers tightened around the edge of his desk. He wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but she wasn’t wrong. There was something about tonight, about her, that had shifted. Maybe it was the soft glow of her room, or the way the pink fabric contrasted against her skin. Maybe it was the knowledge that this moment was private, just between the two of them, that made everything feel more… intimate. More real.

He watched, entranced, as she slipped her hand lower, her breath hitching slightly. His pulse quickened, the tension in his body almost unbearable now. He could feel his own restraint slipping, the lines he had drawn for himself blurring.

This wasn’t just curiosity anymore. This was something else entirely.

His fingers quickly typed up a response, his breath already shallow as his eyes lingered at the top of her supple breasts.

Alhaitham didn't know what to feel but the feeling of his cock already straining against his pants, he's about to get his money's worth.

He was shirtless already due to the warm summer but he was already racking

up a cold sweat, he unbuttons his pants and pulls out his cock, hissing as it throbs at the sight of her in lingerie.

User1102: why don't you surprise me today, take control.

Her eyes glistened at his reply as she giggled. Her hand reaching out behind her as Alhaitham’s eyes widen.

"Fuck" He groans out, body shuddering at the large dildo she had in her hand. Her eyes flickering from the camera to the dildo as her lips trailed along the length of it sensual.

He watched with keen eyes as she brought the dildo down to her puffy pussy, juice already leaking from the hole— so much that she didn't even need lube to lubricate the dildo.

Alhaitham’s fist wrapped loosely around his hard cock, the veins pulsating against his hand as his brain became foggy.

He watched as she slowly pushed the tip inside of her, her pussy clenching tightly at the tip a high pitch moan escapes passed her parted gloss lips. Alhaitham's hand glided up his cock and to the tip as he squeezed it, imagining it was his big cock pushing through her tiny pussy.

He mimicked her pussy with his hand, imagining how tight she must be as she slowly pushed the dildo inside of her. Her thighs shaking, sweating glistening on them as she quickly reached down with her other hand to play with her puffy clit.

Alhaitham reached out with his one hand to type in a response as his cock was pulsating in his fist.

She was waiting for his next command even though he gave her the green light to do her own things.

User1102: such a good bunny. Such a good girl for me. Your pussy looks so stuffed, wished it was my cock in their instead.

Her eyes skimmed through the message, a messy moan leaves her mouth as she moves the dildo in her , a sloppy sound being her.

"I w-wish it was your cock. F-feels so good, would feel so much better if it was your thick cock in me-ahh" her words came out in a moan at the end as Alhaitham started moving his fist tightly on his cock to match the rhythm of her moving the dildo in her.

If he was there, he would move much faster. Pound her tight pussy until she was overflowing with his cum.

you’re so pretty, cheeks flushed and lips parting into the perfect orgasm face as your shaking arm reaches for your clit, eyes so hooded that you can barely see the screen in front of you.

Alhaitham’s hand pumps his cock a little faster, following the rough and fast circles you’re subjecting your aching clit to. He allows himself to groan loudly, gripping the arm of the chair as he thrusts up into his hand, pre-cum spilling over his shaft.

your high pitched moans are music to his ears and the twitching of your legs are proof of the pleasure that he’s indirectly causing.

your head’s thrown back, exposing your neck as your hips roll against the dildo, juices from your cunt sliding down your ass as it drenches the sheets below you.

“s-sir please! can i cum? please let me cum! i’ve been a good girl!”

tingles run down Alhaitham's spine as he hears your whiny voice beg.

His hand reaches out to type a quick response as his other furiously jerks his pulsating cock.

User1102: cum for me.

The chair creaking as he fucks his hand and your eyes scan the chat, you pinch your clit and scream, body convulsing as you cum all over the dildo.

“f-fuck, fuck, fuck! i’m cumming !” you wail, back arching off the bed. your body stiffens at the uncomfortable position as a stream of clear liquid shoots out of your pussy, drenching your soiled sheets even more.

Alhaitham follows suit, moaning as white spurts of cum shoot out of his cock, staining his thighs and abs. eyes dark and mind hazy from his orgasm, your eyes are heavy and lidded when you sit up, chest heaving and nipples aching as the toy slowly leaves your pussy, whining as you feel your juices slide down your ass.

Alhaitham's eyes widen when you fumble around the dildo and pulled the toy that’s shining and glistening with your essence.

you put the wet and warm toy in your mouth, sucking and licking like you would on a real cock. Alhaitham groans, closing his eyes as he hears you moan, tasting yourself on the toy.

The sound going straight to his cock again as images start to form in his mind, imagining you doing that to him, choking on his cock before he grabs your hips, giving ut a squeeze and slaps your ass, entering your needy pussy in one hard thrust.

you practically crawl towards the laptop, eyes sultry and inviting before you pull the toy out of your mouth with a wet pop and throw a dazzling smile at the camera, as if you didn’t get ruined by a silicone cock a few moments before.

“i hope you enjoyed the show, sir. but i wish it was your real cock that made me cum and squirt like that.”

with one last wink to the camera, you end the stream.

Alhaitham body slumped on his chair, eyes staring at the blank laptop screen as his gaze fell above him on his ceiling. His breathing erratic as his gazes falls on his cock that had harden once again.

'Fuck'

'Fuck'

Alhaitham stood at the entrance of the lecture hall, his usual calm exterior masking the storm of disbelief swirling inside him. His eyes scanned the room, moving over the rows of students until they landed on you. There you was—sitting in the back, casually leaning over your desk, looking as though you was about to drift off to sleep. You looked so different from the confident, alluring woman he'd been captivated by just last night, completely unaware of the private session that now hung heavy between them.

The sudden images of you sucking on the dildo flashed in his mind, your moan echoing in his head as he swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep moving, though his steps felt heavier. His thoughts raced. How could this happen? Out of all the people who could have been sitting in his classroom, it had to be you—the woman who had unknowingly shaken him to his core.

Clearing his throat, he stood at the front of the room, addressing the class. “There will be a pop quiz today, ” he announced, his voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of tension. The class erupted into groans as he forced himself not to roll his eyes "you would know this if you saw the email last night and prepared."

“Old-fashioned, on paper.” Alhaitham also stated as he began handing out the papers, his focus was everywhere but where it should be. He moved down each row, handing out the sheets with mechanical precision, his gaze subtly darting toward the back where you sat, unbothered by the sudden quiz.

Reaching your row, he slowed. You was sitting at the end, your usual nonchalance etched on your face as you glanced at the blank paper. He handed the quiz to the student beside you, who passed it down until it reached you. But something within him made him pause.

He took a deep breath and stepped forward, holding the next sheet in his hand. As he approached you, your hands brushed—just for a moment, just enough to send a jolt of awareness through his entire body. Your skin was warm against his, and the contact sent an unexpected tingle up his arm. It was as if time froze, the casual touch sparking something deep inside him.

He pulled his hand back quickly, almost too quickly, and felt the weight of your gaze lift to him. He could feel the heat rise to his neck, but he kept moving, walking down the next row as if nothing had happened.

But something had changed.

Alhaitham sat at his desk, attempting to focus on the papers in front of him, but all he could think about was the feel of your skin brushing against his. His fingers still tingled, the sensation lingering in his mind far longer than it should have. He glanced up, watching as you lazily scribbled answers on your quiz, unaware of the storm brewing inside him.

He shook his head, mentally chastising himself.

' You’re her professor. This cannot happen.'

His gaze falls back on his laptop, an email from the Dean of the university had popped up. His eyes furrow to see that she would like to talk to him after his current lecture. An annoyed sigh escaping past his lips.

'Great. They problem want me to do something for them.'

And he was right.

Alhaitham leaned against the wall of the dean’s office, arms crossed, his mind a tumultuous storm of conflicting thoughts. Rukkhadevata sat across from him, a knowing look in her eyes as she shuffled through a few papers on her desk. The room was adorned with academic awards and a bookshelf brimming with scholarly texts, giving it an air of seriousness and authority.

“Alhaitham, I appreciate you coming by on such short notice,” she began, her voice calm and inviting. “I wanted to discuss an opportunity for a student who’s expressed a keen interest in linguistics and academia.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued yet wary. “Who is it?” he asked, though he already felt the shadows of doubt creeping in.

“Her name is [Your Name]. She’s in her fourth year, and I believe she could greatly benefit from shadowing you during your afternoon lectures with the first-year students.” Rukkhadevata paused, observing his reaction.

Alhaitham's brows scrunched in thought, he had heard the name a few times from other professors and also knows he has someone named that in his class but he don’t know how that person looks.

“I see,” he replied,, dryly. “But does she have the necessary background to assist? I teach advanced concepts that require a solid foundation.”

Rukkhadevata nodded, her expression resolute. “She’s demonstrated exceptional aptitude in her studies, particularly in linguistics. This experience could be pivotal for her. You know as well as I do that sometimes, a little guidance can ignite a passion for research and teaching in a student.”

Alhaitham contemplated her words, it would be a good learning ground for him to. Understanding the mind of a student and how they think when teaching a lecture but also it means his personal time in his office will be cut short as the student will need to shadow him.

“What if I’m not comfortable with the arrangement? There are other professors who can take her on,” he suggested, his tone more curt than intended.

“Alhaitham,” she replied, her voice steady and reassuring. “I understand your reservations, but I truly believe this is a unique opportunity for both of you. If you don’t take her on, there’s another professor, Tighnari, who would be more than willing to open the spot for her. He already has a student named Collei shadowing him but I don’t want her to miss out on this chance as you're qualified in the linguistics department.”

With a sigh, Alhaitham pushed himself off the wall “Very well,” he conceded, the words slipping out before he could fully process them. “I’ll take her on.”

“Great! I’ll inform her immediately. You’ll meet with her after her morning lectures, and we can discuss the schedule,” Rukkhadevata said, a pleased smile gracing her features.

As Alhaitham left her office, his mind drifted back to you. His mind in a turmoil not knowing what to do. How is going to lecture in a class knowing that he gets off to one of his students ?

The next day, Alhaitham sat at his desk, his eyes fixed on the clock as the minutes ticked by. Ten minutes late. His jaw clenched slightly. He didn’t tolerate lateness, especially not from someone who was supposed to shadow him. He hated wasted time, and this student had already made a poor impression.

Just as he was about to rise from his chair to leave the office to attend to other matters, the door creaked open. His irritation sharpened, but as the door swung wide, his thoughts ground to a halt.

His eyes widened as he realized you were standing in the doorway.

You walked into the room, slightly out of breath, looking a bit flustered. At first, it was just shock. Of all the students, of all the people—it was you, the cam girl he'd been watching for a month, the same girl who had held his attention in ways he couldn’t quite understand. Seeing you here, in front of him, outside of the screen and now close up, was a jarring collision of his two worlds.

For a moment, he was silent, his gaze trailing over you. You looked different in person, softer maybe, but still just as striking. His eyes flicked to the way your hair framed your face, the way you nervously shifted from foot to foot. But then reality hit him like a cold wave. You were here, standing in his office, his student.

He quickly masked his shock, his expression hardening. “You’re late,” he said, his voice colder than he intended, almost biting. “Ten minutes late.”

You blinked, clearly not expecting the harsh tone. “I’m sorry—I got a little lost.”

He let out a small, frustrated breath, trying to gather himself. “Being lost isn’t an excuse. If you’re going to shadow me, I expect punctuality. I don’t tolerate tardiness.”

You nodded, looking slightly out of place, like you weren’t sure where to stand or what to do with your hands. “It won’t happen again. I promise.”

He glanced at you again, his mind still whirling. He couldn’t believe it. The girl he had been watching from behind the safety of a screen, whose cam sessions had been a guilty distraction late at night, was standing right in front of him. And you had no idea who he was other than being your professor.

“Your name is Y/N, correct?” He forced his voice to remain steady, trying to push aside the surreal nature of this situation.

“Yes,” you answered, shifting under his gaze.

“Good,” he muttered, his hand tightening around the edge of his desk. He had to regain control of this conversation—this situation. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by you, not now, not ever. “We’ll start tomorrow. You’ll shadow me throughout the day. I’ll send you your schedule later.”

You nodded again, still looking somewhat nervous, and something about it tugged at him, though he immediately pushed the thought away.

He cleared his throat, trying to regain some normalcy in the moment. But the tension lingered, thick in the air. You noticed, of course, the subtle way he shifted, his eyes darting away from yours as if trying to hide something.

“Are you alright?” you asked softly, your concern genuine, though you had no idea why he was acting this way.

“I’m fine,” he snapped, but then, catching himself, he softened his tone. “I’m fine. That will be all.”

You looked like you were about to say something more, but instead, you simply nodded and turned to leave.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind you, Alhaitham leaned back in his chair, letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. His mind raced. He had thought about assigning you to someone else—maybe Tighnari—but now that idea seemed impossible. The thought of someone else mentoring you made him feel… unsettled. No, he would have to handle this himself, regardless of how difficult it might become.

He closed his eyes, letting the quiet of the room wash over him. Tomorrow, he would have to keep his distance, keep things professional. But even now, your face lingered in his mind, and he knew it wouldn’t be as simple as he hoped.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

It was the first day, and you were already regretting being assigned to shadow Professor Alhaitham. After how he had embarrassed you for being late for class and yesterday, you dreaded the idea of spending more time with him. He was a sharp-tongued, cold-hearted ass, but you couldn’t afford to pass up this opportunity. Shadowing him would be invaluable for your studies, even if his attitude grated on your nerves.

You glanced at your watch. It was almost 1 p.m., the time for Alhaitham’s first-year lecture. With a sigh, you reached into your bag and pulled out a compact mirror and lipstick, deciding to retouch it before the lecture started. As you carefully applied the soft shade to your lips, the reflection in the mirror shifted, and you caught sight of him standing at the doorway, staring at you.

Heat rushed to your face, and your hand paused mid-swipe. You could feel his gaze burning into you, intense and unwavering. His eyes flicked from your lips to your eyes in the mirror, and you quickly snapped the compact shut, turning around to face him with a flustered expression.

Alhaitham didn’t miss a beat. “I’m not sure why you’re putting on lipstick right before a lecture,” he remarked, his voice smooth but laced with the kind of dry sarcasm that left you unsure whether it was meant to insult or simply observe. “It’s not like that will help you retain the content better.”

Your blush deepened at the jab, but there was no real malice in his tone. It was just his way. You pursed your lips slightly, resisting the urge to snap back, instead choosing to stay silent. He crossed the room with that same calm, collected air he always had, handing you a stack of papers.

“You’ll need these,” he said, his tone shifting back to business. “I’m giving them a quiz—similar to what I did with your class the other day. After the lecture, you’ll stay back and mark them with me.”

You stared at the stack of papers in your hand, feeling the weight of both the physical and mental load. The thought of sitting with him after school, going through these quizzes together, made you groan under your breath, though not loud enough for him to hear clearly. The last thing you wanted was to spend more time than necessary with him, especially after his cold remarks the day before.

He raised an eyebrow at your reaction but didn’t comment, his expression unreadable. “Complaining won’t make the work go away,” he said mildly, as if already expecting your frustration. “Better get used to it.”

You forced a small smile and nodded, begrudgingly accepting your fate. There was no point arguing. You had signed up for this, after all.

As you followed Alhaitham into the lecture hall, the low hum of students settling into their seats filled the room. You tried not to think about how you’d have to sit with him for hours after school, marking these quizzes. The thought was frustrating, but you kept reminding yourself it was just part of the process. You could handle this.

You settled yourself at the front of the room, laying the stack of quizzes on the desk. Alhaitham began the lecture with his usual confidence, pacing in front of the first-years as he spoke. His voice was steady and sure, effortlessly commanding the room’s attention. It was infuriating how composed he always seemed, never faltering, never showing the slightest hint of emotion beyond his cool detachment.

You found yourself staring at him again, and it annoyed you. How could someone be so frustratingly perfect? His words flowed perfectly, understandable yet his aloofness made it difficult to even like him. It didn’t help that his eyes flickered in your direction occasionally, almost as if he was checking to see if you were paying attention.

Halfway through the lecture, he handed you the quizzes to distribute. You moved through the rows of students, handing them out with a forced smile. Some students gave you sympathetic looks, clearly sensing you were stuck with the task of marking them all later.

As the lecture ended, the bustling sounds of students leaving the hall began to die down. You stood at the back, waiting for the right moment to catch up to Alhaitham. Your fingers drummed nervously on the edge of your notebook, replaying the conversation from earlier in the day. You are stuck with him for the rest of the semester, shadowing his every move as part of the research assistantship you needed for your degree.

He’d embarrassed you once already, calling you out in front of the class on the first day for being late. Now, even though you couldn’t stand his arrogance, you couldn’t afford to let this opportunity go. The problem was, he knew that too. You saw it in his eyes when he handed you those quizzes earlier. There was something so self-assured about him, a smugness that made your blood boil. But still, he had that quiet, undeniable intelligence about him that, annoyingly enough, you found yourself drawn to.

By the time you reached his office, the sun had begun its descent, casting the room in a warm golden hue. Alhaitham's office exudes elegance and order. A polished mahogany table sits at the center, topped with a laptop, a pen, and leather-bound notebooks. Behind it, a high-backed leather chair adds authority and another simpler chair was seat across his table. Floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books and files line the walls, matching the table’s dark wood. Soft light filters through a large window, highlighting a plush Persian rug beneath. A corner features two leather armchairs and a small coffee table, perfect for meetings, while subtle luxuries and framed art complete the space’s refined atmosphere.

Alhaitham's office mirrors his sharp, organized mind—sophisticated, orderly, and rich with knowledge.

 He motioned for you to sit down, his gaze lingering on you as you did.

“here is the quizzes for you to mark. Atleast today you start off with something light.” he said, handing you a fresh stack of papers, his fingers brushing yours again as they had earlier. A small, unintentional jolt of electricity ran up your arm from the brief contact, and you quickly withdrew your hand, focusing on the task in front of you. You tried to ignore the way his presence loomed across the desk, calm but somehow intense.

As you started marking, the silence between you grew thicker. It wasn’t the kind of silence that brought comfort—it felt like there was something unspoken, hanging heavy in the air between you. Every once in a while, you could feel his gaze shift toward you, studying you before returning to his own stack of papers. You nibbled on your bottom lip absentmindedly, concentrating on the quiz in front of you, when you felt it again—his eyes on you.

You looked up, catching him staring at you. His expression was unreadable, but there was a moment, a flicker of something in his eyes, before he quickly looked away. Your heart skipped a beat, your lips parting in surprise. What was going on with him?

After a few moments, he broke the silence. "Grab that book for me, will you?" He pointed to a high shelf behind you, his voice cool and even as ever.

You stood, walking over to the shelf and craning your neck to reach the book he’d indicated. It was too high, and as you stretched up on your tiptoes, your skirt began to lift slightly. You felt a twinge of annoyance as your fingers just barely grazed the edge of the book.

Behind you, Alhaitham remained silent, but unbeknownst to you, his eyes were locked on your figure. He couldn’t help but notice the way your skirt rode up slightly, revealing the plump of your tighs, those exact same thighs that were squeezed into tight sheer stockings, with liquid from your greedy pussy soaking them. He clenched his jaw, his thoughts racing despite himself. His mind wandering just how soft those thighs would feel arpund his head, squeezing him as he gets to feast on your pussy.  

He had to keep it together.

Finally, you gave up with a sigh, your arm dropping back to your side. Without a word, Alhaitham stood up and walked over to you, his tall frame easily reaching the book that had eluded you. 

"If you’re going to struggle, at least do it more efficiently," he muttered, the words laced with a faint edge of amusement.

You scowled at him. "You could have just taken the book yourself," you replied, trying to mask your irritation. His words weren’t exactly harsh, but there was always that intellectual superiority in his tone that grated on you.

He had a subtle smirk graced upon his lips "from what I've heard, my mentee should be hands down and do anything I ask." His voice putting more emphasis on 'anything I ask' his light turquoise eyes stare at you, something hidden behind the light glaze in them. You quickly look away, a red coat of blush on your cheeks as you walked back to the desk.

After you both settled back into marking the quizzes, the soft scratching of pens filled the small office space. It was quiet, but the air between you still buzzed with unspoken tension. You tried to focus on grading the papers, but your mind kept wandering to him—his presence just across the desk, the way his gaze sometimes lingered a little too long.

You were halfway through another quiz when a shadow loomed over you. Alhaitham had stood up and moved around the desk, coming to stand right behind you. His tall frame towered over your seated position, and you froze, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was. The subtle scent of his cologne—clean, earthy, with a hint of something spicy—washed over you, clouding your mind and making it difficult to focus on the paper in front of you.

"Why do you think this answer is wrong?" he asked, leaning down slightly, his voice low and calm but close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath near your ear.

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a second, you forgot how to speak. You glanced at the paper, trying to recall what you had marked incorrectly, but the heat radiating from his body and the soft scent of his skin distracted you completely. The closeness of him was overwhelming—his presence, his scent—it all clouded your thoughts until you had to force yourself to snap back into the present.

"Uh… they got the concept of phonetics mixed up with phonology," you stammered, swallowing nervously. "Phonetics is about the sounds themselves, while phonology is about how those sounds function in particular languages."

Alhaitham said nothing for a moment, just staying there, hovering behind you. His proximity made your pulse race, and you could feel the warmth of his body just inches from yours. He leaned in a little more, his fingers tracing the lines of the quiz. Your heart was hammering now, and you cursed yourself for letting your mind wander so much.

"Good," he finally said, straightening back up and, to your surprise, gently patting your head.

The simple, unexpected gesture sent a rush of warmth straight to your cheeks. Your heart fluttered, and you were sure your face had gone bright red. You bit your lip, willing yourself to stay composed, but your thoughts betrayed you. The small pat—so casual, almost paternal—made your mind spin in ways you didn’t expect.

As he moved back to his seat, you sat there for a moment, frozen in place. You couldn’t help but think about how his hand had felt, the gentle pressure on your head, and the surprising warmth it brought. You shook your head, forcing yourself to focus again, but the thought lingered. What if he patted your head every time you gave the right answer?

The idea was ridiculous, but it made your heart race anyway. You could feel the heat rising to your face again, and you had to fight the urge to look at him. You wondered if he noticed how flustered you were, but when you glanced over at him, he was already back to grading, his expression unreadable, as always.

Keep it together, you scolded yourself. This was your professor, and you had to maintain some level of professionalism. But a tiny part of you—the part that was growing more curious about him by the minute—couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, he had noticed your blush.

After the marking, Alhaitham stood up again, gesturing for you to follow him as he headed to his bookshelf. You were still dazed from earlier, but you followed him. He asked you to grab a specific book from the top shelf, but again, it was just out of your reach. You stretched as far as you could, the hem of your skirt lifting slightly as you did. You could feel his eyes on you again, a little more intense this time.

He stepped forward, his presence suddenly looming behind you once more. His hand brushed yours as he reached up easily to retrieve the book. He didn’t say anything at first, but as he handed it to you, his lips quirked into a small, barely-there smirk.

"Struggling again, I see," he muttered, the words laced with that same intellectual superiority you’d come to expect from him. It wasn’t exactly mean, but it stung enough to make your cheeks burn.

You huffed quietly, taking the book from him and returning to your seat. You could feel his gaze lingering on you as he walked back to his desk, but you refused to meet his eyes, determined to ignore the strange tension that had only grown stronger between you.

The marking continued, but your focus was slipping. You kept sneaking glances at him, noticing the small things—how his fingers moved deftly over the papers, how his jaw tensed slightly when he was deep in thought. And then, there were those moments when his eyes would flick to your lips, just for a second, before he quickly looked away.

You absentmindedly nibbled on your bottom lip, a nervous habit you’d had for years, but this time, when you caught him staring at you, his gaze lingered a little too long. His eyes traced the movement of your lips, and for a brief second, something flickered in his expression. He quickly shook his head, as if clearing his mind, and returned to his work.

By the time you finished, the sun had set completely, and the warm glow from the office lamps cast a soft light over the room. Alhaitham glanced at the clock, his usual calm demeanor slipping back into place.

"It’s nearly past 5," he said, standing up and gathering his papers. "You’re dismissed."

You exhaled a sigh of relief, standing and grabbing your bag. As much as you had been dreading this day, it had passed more smoothly than you expected, though it had left you with far more questions than answers. There was something about him, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You just couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you.

As you both stepped outside, the cool evening air hit you, much cooler than you had anticipated. You rubbed your arms, feeling the chill sink in, and muttered under your breath, "Strange how chilly it’s gotten, even though it’s still summer."

Alhaitham paused, glancing over at you before shrugging off his coat. He held it out to you, his expression unreadable.

"Here," he said, his tone firm but not unkind.

You blinked in surprise. "I’m fine, really. I don’t need—"

"Take it," he interrupted, his gaze steady.

After a moment’s hesitation, you took the coat, wrapping it around yourself. It was far too big on you, but it was warm, and the subtle scent of him clung to the fabric. The same scent that had distracted you earlier in his office now enveloped you completely, and it made your heart race all over again.

"Thanks," you mumbled, adjusting the coat around your shoulders.

He simply nodded, and the two of you continued walking in silence. The tension between you had shifted, but it was still there, just beneath the surface, and as you parted ways at the end of the path, you couldn’t help but wonder—was he thinking about you the way you were thinking about him? Did he know?

As you watched him walk away, the weight of his coat on your shoulders felt heavier than it should, like it carried with it all the unspoken words and lingering tension between you.

As you walk home, the weight of Alhaitham's coat feels heavier than it should, not just physically, but emotionally. The warmth still clings to you, along with that subtle, distinct scent that belongs to him—earthy, clean, and with just a hint of spice. It feels oddly intimate, like a lingering piece of him you hadn't expected to carry home with you. Each step you take, wrapped in his coat, makes you more aware of its significance. It’s just a piece of fabric, but the way it rests on your shoulders, warm and protective, makes it feel like more than that.

When you finally reach your apartment, you sigh, pulling the keys from your bag. Inside, you place the bag of takeout on the table with little care, too tired and too distracted to do anything but collapse for a moment. You peel off the coat, draping it on the couch, and immediately feel the loss of warmth as it leaves your shoulders. For a brief moment, you consider folding it neatly, but instead, you leave it there, trying to detach yourself from the way your thoughts kept wandering to him—your arrogant, handsome professor.

You settle at the table, opening the takeout container as your mind drifts back to the way he had looked at you earlier in his office. That gaze of his—intense, intelligent, and just a little too observant—had lingered far too long. You shake your head, trying to focus on eating, but it’s impossible. His voice, his presence, the feeling of his hand patting your head—it all keeps pulling you back.

You finish eating faster than usual, your thoughts occupied with him the entire time. As you pick up the coat from the couch to take it to your room, you catch a whiff of his scent again. You freeze, the familiar scent sending your mind spiraling into thoughts you shouldn’t be having. Images flash through your mind—his tall, strong build, the way he had stood so close behind you, his fingers brushing yours when you reached for that book. The fog of those inappropriate thoughts clouds your mind, and for a brief moment, you can’t stop wondering what it would feel like to be closer to him, how he looked under that dress shirt he wore today.

Shaking your head quickly, you scold yourself, forcing those thoughts away as you hang the coat in your cupboard, making a mental note not to forget it tomorrow. You won’t let it cloud your judgment any further. You take a deep breath, pushing those thoughts out of your head as you begin getting ready for your cam session.

As you're about to log in, your phone buzzes, pulling your attention away from the screen. You grab it, expecting some usual notification, but your eyes widen slightly when you see the message is from Alhaitham. You hadn’t even realized he had your number—until now.

Alhaitham: I got your number from the system. You’ll need to make a vocabulary list for the first-year lecture tomorrow. I’ve attached some resources to help. Be sure to finish this before class.

You groan, dropping your phone onto the bed. Of course, he’d send you more work just when you were about to start your cam session. You sigh deeply, throwing yourself back onto the bed and staring at the ceiling. There’s no avoiding it—he's your professor, and as much as he irritates you with his superior attitude, you can't ignore his requests.

Sitting up, you rub your temples and switch gears, deciding to get the task done first. As much as you’d rather jump into your session, you can’t afford to leave it undone. You spend the next hour or so compiling the list, working through the vocabulary terms as your mind buzzes with thoughts of how annoyingly persistent Alhaitham is. He always seems to know just when to give you extra work, like he's testing your patience on purpose.

By the time you finally finish, it’s much later than you'd planned. 

You noticed something different as you scrolled through your cam site, a sinking feeling settling in your chest. User1102 didn’t show up tonight. In fact, he hadn’t for the past few nights. A wave of disappointment washed over you, though you weren’t sure why it bothered you so much. It wasn’t like you knew who he was. But still, he had always been there, watching, engaging, giving you a sense of consistency. Now, his absence felt louder than the other users’ presence, and you couldn’t help but feel a strange sadness.

Shaking off the thought, you closed your laptop and leaned back. It was just a coincidence, right? People came and went all the time on these sites. But as you prepared for bed, you found your mind wandering to him—wondering why he wasn’t there, wondering who he really was. Little did you know, Alhaitham had been avoiding the site ever since the first lecture.

It has now been nearly two weeks. From those two weeks you only spent about 6 days after lessons in his office helping with filling forms. You had gotten used to your routine with your professor, he gives you work to do, you do it and if he feels 'generous' he gives you a thick stack of papers to mark, now handing you long essays that make your brain ache. 

You noted that there was still an awkward tension between the two of you, he seemed to want to avoid you as much as possible. When you are alone with him, he would sit far from you but you could feel his sharp eyes on you from time to time. 

One of the days you wore a short skirt, the skirt was going to shorten Alhaitham's life. It showed your supple thighs, a pen fell. Cliché but you of course had to bend down to pick the pen in front of your poor professor who caught sight of your pure white cotton underwear.

 This lead to him dismissing you harshly to go home early. Poor little you thought you did something wrong, so the next day you went to apologize to him for anything you had done to annoy him, this caused the arrogant professor's heart to skip a beat, from that day on he started to talk to you in a calm tone. Alhaitham noticed you thrived on praises.

He once slipped and had called you a 'good girl' and gave your head a gentle pat, when you had completed a whole pile of essays, each one checked properly. Your face turned a pretty shade of pink. 

The words "t-thank you professor" stumbling out of your plump lips, this left Alhaitham's imagination to go wild that night, jerking off to his sweet student, who has such an innocent facade when she is fully clothed but when she is bathed in the LED lights of her room and wearing a sheer outfit..the innocence long gone.

 Alhaitham however, did stop watching her session as much as it pained him but he felt guilty to watch you now, knowing that you're his student and he is your professor..however the idea of bending you on the very desk the both of you shared always crosses his mind. 

It was the end of another long day, and you were packing up the last of your things in Alhaitham's office when you noticed the rain pouring outside, drumming steadily against the windows. The thought of walking home in that downpour made you shiver, and to make matters worse, you had forgotten your jacket. Again.

As you stood there, awkwardly rubbing your arms for warmth, Alhaitham appeared in the doorway. His expression was, as usual, unreadable, but his sharp eyes quickly assessed the situation.

“You forgot your jacket again,” he observed, his voice low and calm.

You gave a sheepish nod, not bothering to deny it. “Yeah, seems to be a habit at this point.”

Without a word, he slipped off his coat—the one he always wore that made him seem so imposing—and handed it to you. The fabric was still warm from his body, the faint smell of his cologne lingering on it. You hesitated for a moment, but the cold air persuaded you to accept it gratefully.

“Thanks,” you murmured, slipping the jacket over your shoulders. It was far too big, enveloping you in its warmth.

He stepped back slightly, his eyes lingering on you, though his face remained stoic. “You shouldn’t walk in the rain like this. I’ll drive you home.”

You blinked in surprise. “You don’t have to—”

“I insist,” he interrupted, already making his way towards the door.You reluctantly, following him, it was clear he wasn’t letting you walk in the rain tonight.

Outside, the rain had picked up, and you were more than a little relieved that Alhaitham had offered a ride. But what you hadn’t expected was the sleek black sports car waiting for you in the lot. Your eyes widened as he unlocked the doors with a soft click.

“This is your car?” you asked, trying to keep the surprise out of your voice.

“Yes,” he replied simply, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

You slid into the passenger seat, feeling slightly out of place in such an expensive, low-riding car. The leather seats were cool against your skin, and the interior was immaculate. Alhaitham climbed in beside you, starting the engine with a soft purr. The sound sent a shiver through you, though you weren’t sure if it was the car or just the fact that you were sitting so close to him.

As he drove, you couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly he handled the car. His hands gripped the steering wheel with a practiced ease, and his posture was relaxed, but there was a certain control in every movement. You found yourself stealing glances at him, your heart fluttering in a way that felt all too unfamiliar. The rain blurred the world outside, making the inside of the car feel small, intimate.

Your thoughts began to wander, and before you could stop them, you found yourself admiring the way his hair fell slightly over his forehead, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his eyes stayed focused on the road with that quiet intensity he always had. Everything about him seemed so… controlled, so perfect.

You bit your lip, trying to push the thoughts away. This was your professor, after all. But it was hard to ignore the way your heart sped up each time you caught a glimpse of him.

As if sensing your gaze, he cleared his throat, his eyes never leaving the road. “You’re quiet.”

You blinked, feeling caught. “Oh, sorry. Just… thinking.”

“About?” he asked, though his tone didn’t push for an answer.

“Nothing important,” you mumbled, feeling your face grow warm.

The silence returned, heavy with tension, and you found yourself growing more aware of how small you felt in his car. Every bump in the road seemed to jolt your heart, especially with the way he drove—smooth, fast, and with a precision that made you feel oddly vulnerable.

Finally, he pulled up outside your apartment building. T.he downpour was relentless, heavy raindrops hammering against the sleek black car as you sat next to Alhaitham. The windscreen wipers were moving fast, but it was as if the rain refused to let up, trapping you both in the warmth of the vehicle.

You glanced outside, watching the rain blur the streetlights into hazy orbs of light. "I guess I should go," you murmured, though you didn’t make any move to open the door.

Alhaitham's hand remained on the steering wheel, his eyes focused on the rain. "Wait," he said, his voice calm but firm. "It's coming down too hard. You’ll be drenched in seconds."

You looked at him, startled by his concern. His expression was unreadable as always, but there was something about the way his gaze softened as it shifted from the rain to you. The inside of the car felt too small suddenly, the air charged with something more than just the weather outside.

"You're right," you agreed quietly, settling back into the seat, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. The silence stretched between you, the sound of rain enveloping the car in a bubble of quiet tension.

After a few moments, Alhaitham spoke, his voice breaking through the soft patter of the storm. "You don’t mind waiting, do you?"

You shook your head. "No… not at all."

His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he looked out at the rain again. "I’ve never really liked storms," he confessed. "Too unpredictable. But I guess that’s what makes them interesting, isn’t it?"

The unexpected admission surprised you. Alhaitham was always so composed, always so in control. Hearing him speak of unpredictability was strange, almost like he was revealing a part of himself he usually kept hidden.

"I suppose," you replied, your voice softer now, feeling the undercurrent of something deeper. "But sometimes, unpredictability can be… exciting."

His eyes flicked to yours, something unreadable passing through them. "Exciting?"

You swallowed hard, feeling the intensity of his gaze. "Yeah. It keeps things from becoming too… predictable."

The corners of his lips lifted slightly, a barely-there smile, but it sent a rush of warmth through you. His hand shifted on the gearstick, fingers brushing lightly against yours as you moved to rest your hand on your lap. The touch was so fleeting, so subtle, yet it made your pulse quicken.

"What about you?" he asked, his voice low. "Do you like storms?"

You hesitated, suddenly hyper-aware of every movement, every breath. "I… don’t mind them. I think they can be beautiful. Powerful."

He nodded, his eyes not leaving yours. "Powerful, yes."

There was a pause, and then he added, "But dangerous too."

You felt the weight of his words, the way they seemed to carry a deeper meaning, one that made your heart pound in your chest. The rain continued to pour, but the world outside felt distant, irrelevant. All that mattered was the man sitting beside you, his voice, his presence.

"I guess," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper, "there’s beauty in danger too."

His eyes darkened slightly, his jaw tightening as if your words struck something within him. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, the air between you charged with an almost unbearable tension.

"You have a unique way of looking at things," he said finally, his voice so low it sent a shiver down your spine. "I’ve noticed that about you."

You blinked, feeling your cheeks heat up at the compliment. "Oh… I—thank you."

The rain began to lighten, the heavy downpour turning into a soft drizzle. Alhaitham shifted in his seat, but he didn’t start the car. Instead, his eyes remained on you, as if searching for something in your expression.

"Why are you always walking in the rain without a coat?" he asked, his tone almost teasing now. "You’ll catch a cold one day."

He was referring to the few mornings you entered lectures soaking like a drowned rat, either the coat your wore just got soaked completely through or you were rushing and forgot half of yourself back at home.

You let out a small laugh, though your heart was still pounding. "I… don’t know. I guess I never really think about it. Besides, it’s not that bad."

He raised an eyebrow. "Not that bad? You’re soaked every time."

You shrugged, trying to play it off, but the way he was looking at you made your mind fuzzy. "Maybe I like the rain."

His lips quirked again, and he reached for the coat you he let you borrow before. "Keep it," he said, draping it over your lap again, the fabric warm from his touch. "I’d rather not see you walking around soaked again."

You stared at the coat, your throat tightening. His jacket smelled faintly of him, a comforting, subtle scent. Your fingers gripped the edges of the fabric, feeling overwhelmed by the simple act of kindness.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the soft patter of rain.

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned back in his seat, watching you for a moment longer before speaking again, his voice soft but filled with an intensity that made your heart race.

"You look good in it," he said, his eyes lingering on you in a way that made your cheeks flush.

Your breath caught, heat flooding your face. You tried to laugh it off, but the way he was looking at you made it impossible to think straight. "I—uh, thanks."

The rain had slowed to a light drizzle now, but neither of you moved to leave the car. The tension in the air was thick, almost suffocating, yet you didn’t want it to end. The closeness, the warmth—it was too intoxicating.

Finally, you cleared your throat, trying to break the spell. "I guess… I should go."

Alhaitham nodded, but before you could open the door, his voice stopped you. "Goodnight," he said, his tone softer than you had ever heard it. "And… be careful."

That did it. You felt your face heat up instantly, the blush spreading like wildfire across your cheeks. You couldn’t even look at him, your fingers clutching the coat tighter as you fumbled for the door handle but you sucked in a breath and turned to look at him, your heart pounding in your chest. "Goodnight… Alhaitham," you whispered, using his name for the first time.

The way his eyes flickered at the sound of his name on your lips made your stomach flip, but you quickly slipped out of the car before you could lose your nerve and correct yourself. You hurried towards your apartment, the drizzle cooling your flushed cheeks, but your thoughts were spinning.

 As you walked toward your apartment, your heart pounded in your chest, every step making you more flustered. You could feel his eyes on you still, even with your back turned. When you finally reached the stairs, you hesitated, glancing back. His car was still there, the engine quietly humming, headlights cutting through the rain.

He was waiting.

You quickly turned back around, your blush intensifying as you hurried up the stairs, fumbling with your keys. Once inside, you shut the door and leaned against it, breathless and heart racing.

He waited.

The thought made your head spin. Alhaitham—the cold, composed, seemingly distant professor—had waited to make sure you got inside safely. Your mind was racing, overwhelmed by the sudden realization that had been building for days, weeks even.

You had a massive crush on him.

Without even thinking, you peeped through the curtains, just in time to see him drive off into the night, his sleek car disappearing into the rain. You slid down to the floor, your face burning as you pressed your hands against your cheeks, trying to calm the dizzying flurry of emotions swirling inside you.

He’s so… You bit your lip, a small, giddy smile breaking through despite yourself. He’s such a gentleman.

Sitting there in the quiet of your apartment, wrapped in his coat, you couldn’t stop thinking about him—how impossibly perfect he seemed. You had no idea what this all meant, but one thing was certain: you were in deep.

Two days had passed since Alhaitham had dropped you off after that nerve-wracking yet thrilling encounter. Your heart still fluttered at the thought of him—both your professor and the enigmatic man who had captivated your attention in ways you never anticipated.

As you wrapped up your work in the office, the late afternoon sun cast a golden glow through the windows. You sorted through your notes, the soft rustle of paper providing a comforting background noise. Just as you were about to leave, you caught sight of Alhaitham leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, a relaxed smile on his face that sent a flutter through your stomach.

“[your name]” he called, his voice smooth and inviting, laced with an undertone of warmth. “Are you ready to head home? I can drop you off”

You glanced up, feeling your cheeks heat slightly. “No need, sir. I can manage on my own.”

His expression shifted, the corners of his mouth curving into a faint frown. “I’ve kept you late too often lately. It’s only fair that I take you home.”

A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, each one clouding your judgment. He’s your professor, you reminded yourself, a few years older than you and incredibly accomplished. Why would he want to spend time with someone like you? Surely he could find someone more suitable—someone his age, someone more… refined. But his persistence won out, and you found yourself nodding.

As you both stepped outside, the evening air was refreshingly cool. The slight breeze played with your hair as you walked side by side to his car, your hearts beating faster with the thrill of being alone together. The tension hung thick in the air, each shared glance igniting sparks between you.

“You’ve been a great help lately,” he began once the both of you entered the car, his tone light yet earnest. “I thought it would be nice to treat you to dinner. There’s a little place nearby that I think you’d enjoy.”

Your heart skipped at the thought. “You didn’t have to do that, Professor.”

He looked at you with an intensity that made your breath catch. “I wanted to.”

The two of you arrived at the quaint little restaurant, a cozy atmosphere that felt intimate despite its bustling clientele. Alhaitham held the door open for you, and you slipped inside, feeling like a whirlwind of emotions. The soft chatter around you was comforting, but your focus remained on him.

Seated across from each other, you took a moment to appreciate how he looked in the warm light—his hair perfectly tousled, his sharp jawline accentuated by the soft glow. He was undeniably handsome, and it made you feel small in the best way possible. As he ordered a drink, you noticed the way his hands moved—confident, graceful, and somehow incredibly alluring.

When the server brought out your meals, Alhaitham’s knee brushed against yours, sending a shiver up your spine. You tried to play it cool, but you could feel the heat radiating from where your legs met. “Here,” he said, nudging a plate toward you. “You have to try this. It’s my favorite.”

You took a bite, and your eyes widened in surprise. “This is amazing!” you exclaimed, not realizing how close you were leaning over the table.

“I’m glad you like it,” he replied, a small smile playing on his lips. “What about this? Have you tried it before?” He gestured to the dish in front of him, inviting you to share in the moment.

You both ended up sharing food, your hands brushing together as you reached for the same dish, an electric charge buzzing in the air between you. Every fleeting touch felt like a promise, igniting your heart and muddling your thoughts. As you took a sip of his beer, you grimaced at the bitter taste, wrinkling your nose in displeasure.

“This is horrible!” you laughed, unable to contain your reaction. “How do people drink this stuff?”

Alhaitham chuckled, a low, rich sound that sent butterflies flitting through your stomach. “Not everyone has your refined palate, apparently.” He raised an eyebrow, taking a sip from the same glass, unbothered by the lipstick stains you left behind.

Your heart raced at the implication, and for a moment, the world around you faded. Was this an indirect kiss? You felt dizzy, the beer mixing with the heat of the moment, leaving you in a haze. The air crackled with tension, and you found yourself leaning closer, your pinkies almost touching on the table.

As the evening progressed, you became more aware of the way you bumped shoulders while walking out of the restaurant, how his hand would occasionally brush against yours. You couldn’t help but think about how Alhaitham would make the perfect boyfriend. A man who was intelligent, considerate, and undeniably charming.

But you shook those thoughts away, reminding yourself of the reality: he was your professor, an accomplished linguist, and you were just a cam girl with secrets. Still, the way he looked at you—like you were the only person in the room—made your heart flutter, and you found it harder to resist the allure of what could be. 

The drive to your apartment was a light hearted one as you reached your apartment building, Alhaitham paused, turning to face you. “Thank you for your help today, [Your name]. I appreciate it,” he said, his voice low and sincere.

“Thank you, Professor Alhaitham,” you replied, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you.

“Alhaitham is just fine,” he corrected softly, his gaze lingering on you.

With a nervous smile, you nodded, feeling like you were crossing some invisible line. “Alright, Alhaitham.”

“Goodnight,” he said, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer than necessary.

“Goodnight,” you echoed, stepping back as you watched him turn to leave.

But as you climbed the stairs to your apartment, your heart raced, and your thoughts swirled with excitement and confusion. You peeked through the curtains and saw him still parked there, and your cheeks flushed at the thought of his caring presence as you watched the car start to leave and fade away into the distance.

With a heavy sigh, you sank to the floor, your back against the wall, your mind racing as you realized you had developed a big fat crush on your handsome linguistic professor.

That dinner had been a whirlwind of emotions, and just when you thought the evening would settle, reality hit you like a wave.

You glanced around your apartment, noticing the bills piled on your desk and the ever-present worry about your finances creeping back in. You sighed, frustration bubbling inside you. Money was running low, and you knew what that meant. You had to do a cam session tonight.

Reluctantly, you shuffled to your room and changed into your outfit. You picked out a set of teal lingerie, the fabric soft against your skin, accentuating your curves in a way that made you feel both confident and exposed. As you slipped into the delicate pieces, you caught your reflection in the mirror. The bold colour brought out the warmth in your skin, and for a moment, you felt beautiful.

You quickly set up your camera and adjusted the lighting, trying to create the perfect ambiance. The familiar rush of excitement and nerves tingled in your stomach as you prepared to go live. With one last deep breath, you clicked the button to start the stream, greeting your audience with a sultry smile.

Minutes passed, and you fell into your routine, losing yourself in the performance. You teased and interacted with your viewers, each comment igniting a spark within you. You knew the thrill of being seen, desired, and appreciated, even if it felt like a secret life hidden from everyone else.

Just as you started to really get into it, a notification popped up. You glanced at the screen, and your heart dropped. 

User1102 has joined the stream.

You felt a familiar flutter of nerves in your stomach but brushed it aside, focusing on your performance. 

You just wanted to do something simple tonight, quickly. You pushed the small fabric that covered your mound, your fingers immediately went below, rubbing slow circles along your clit as your other hand groped at your covered chest. You let your eyes flutter, the image of Alhaitham's half-lidded gaze falls on you, a soft moan leaving past your parted lips. Your mind remembering every detail of his fingers. Strong and thick. You inserted two fingers into your soaking cunt, imagining your professor's fingers sinking within you feeling your walls flutter against him. Your mind remembering the smell of him, the warmth he radiated, his fleeting touches and the way he stared at you. A sob mixed with a moan leaves past your lips, your back aching off the bed adding more to your pleasure. 

His beautiful face came into view, you wondered how his tongue will feel agaisnt your neck, his large hands roaming your body, corrupting your body. The sudden image of you sprawled on his office desk came to mind, your fingers moving even faster, your sleek dripping onto the sheets, clit twitch as you squeezed your left breast Alhaitham's big hand squeezing it instead.

Then, without thinking, you let slip the words you never thought you’d say. “Ah, Pr-professor!” Your heart dropped as you realized what you had just said but your hand seemed to move faster, your toes curling in pleasure.

On the other side of the screen, Alhaitham’s eyes widened, shock and disbelief washing over him. He said he wasn't going to join your sessions again but tonight he was so allured by you, he missed you and wanted to see you again and just by luck you were live, but now hearing you call out his title made him groan, a mix of arousal and confusion coursing through him, his hand gripping tightly onto his cock as he starts to move his hand up and down fast, imagining that your tight hole was his hand instead. 

The sight of you in that teal lingerie, completely lost in your own world, only fueled his desires. He had thought about you too many times since that dinner, and now, knowing you were unknowingly calling out to him while you were so vulnerable, his mind raced with conflicting emotions.

Your voice continued, unaware of the effect you were having on him. “I-I can’t help it… I need more.” You cried out, your thighs trembling from pleasure. 

Alhaitham clenched his jaw, the tension building within him. The line between your two worlds had just blurred, and he found himself caught in a whirlwind of emotions he never anticipated. Did you really see him as a professor, or was there something more there?

You finally looked up at the camera, your eyes making contact with his teal ones as if you knew he was watching you a shaky sob escapes past your lips.

"Alha-AHH" the words that wanted to leave your mouth got cut short as your screamed from the suddenly immense of pleasure your brought yourself, you squirted. The clear fluid drenching your sheets and thighs as your fingers still moved in you to ride off your high.

Alhaitham's eyes widen at the words that wanted to leave his mouth. Was you about to say his name ? This caused his red tip to explode with cum, his release coming down in thick blobs as it ran down his hand that still moved up and down his overstimulated dick, his eyes blurry, body sweating from the intensity of his orgasm, a lazy smile itched on his face. His hand slowly coming to a still, his eyes darken as he watches you pull your fingers out and lick them. Your breathing erratic as your mind was jumbled as you thought that you had came just at the mere thought of your professor—your feelings for him swirling panic coursing through your veins as you registered the thin line that now separated your real life from your hidden desires for him. 

 Alhaitham tapped in 1000$ and sent it to you, closing the stream with a final click. His eyes remained shadowed, and his heart pounded erratically.

Oh he can't wait to see you tomorrow. 

Part 3

[kokonoiis]

NOW LOADING . . . KOKONOIIS' KINKTOBER 2024 TOKREV FIC LIST

tags ; age gap , threesome , blasphemy kink , purity kink , camming , sugar daddies , power imbalance , stripping , exhibitionism , club sex , dubious consent , drug use , somnophilia , drunk sex , high sex , cucking , fake relationship , voyeurism , public sex , psuedocest , mentor kink , secret pining , consensual non consent , stalking , hatefucking

##SENJU KAWARAGI & WAKASA IMAUSHI ﾉ age gap, daddy issues, threesome the night before takemichi's wedding, your girlfriend senju tells you about wakasa, a guy she used to work out with frequently at the gym that she knew was going to be at the wedding. thing is, you already knew him, having had a one night stand with him a few years ago. senju immediately had to know more, but it didn't really seem like she was jealous for the reasons she should be jealous. oddly enough, the day of the wedding comes, and senju seems pretty adamant about spending time with wakasa during the event. it's a little awkward, but for your girlfriend, you'd do anything.

##TAIJU SHIBA ﾉ purity / blasphemy kink the church was otherwise silent other than the deep voice of the man on his knees in front of the cross, his head bowed, searching for forgiveness for the sin he was committing. the sin ? you, spread out right in front of him, trying to stay otherwise silent like he had told you to be as he finished his prayer before he indulged in this carnal sin. he'd get to you, as long as you could be good during his prayers, and he'd be even more generous if you could recite a few prayers while he was in between your thighs.

##HAJIME KOKONOI & TETTA KISAKI ﾉ camming, sugar daddies, power imbalance both ceos of the tk & ko group knew that their new secretary had a secret hobby that you tried to keep separate from your work there, but personal lives always had a way of bleeding into professional ones. not that either one of them minded, either, and even supported you silently on their own before they decided that they would like to take part in your hobbies, too, since they were funding it. somehow, though, you didn't seem too against the idea of letting them join in for a few livestreams.

##WAKASA IMAUSHI & SHINICHIRO SANO ﾉ stripping, exhibitionism, club sex shinichiro had a look on his face that sent a shiver down your spine, but still you sat in between him and wakasa in the booth, your little latex outfit riding up your thighs as you listened to what wakasa wanted you to do for him. you weren't a shy person, not really, but something about the look on shinichiro gave you made you want to hide in a corner. still, you had to put on a show, and you were not in the business to disappoint.

##HARUCHIYO SANZU ﾉ dubious consent, drug use, borderline somnophilia he swore that it would be a fun little ride, that he would help you through whatever you go through. he assured you that he'd taken the drug so many times, of course he knew anything that could possibly happen to you. you weren't going to tell him no and of course there was a part of you that was curious, too, so you took the pretty pills. it would be okay, of course, you had haruchiyo there to guide you threw the trip, and if his hands started to wander, well, that was part of the fun.

##RAN HAITANI & RINDOU HAITANI ﾉ dubious consent, drunk sex, competitive sex you came to the late night halloween party with a guy dressed as the killer from those cheesy scream movies, but spent most of your time with the dj, who could shoot back shots faster than you'd ever seen before. you had no idea that the two of them knew each other, until you went home with the dj only to find the guy you ditched there as if he were waiting for you, and he certainly didn't seem happy that you left him for his younger brother. you'd have to find a way to apologize to him, even if your brain was a little fuzzy.

##SHUJI HANMA & TETTA KISAKI ﾉ cucking, fake relationship, voyeurism fake dating tetta kisaki had its perks, of course. it didn't hurt that he wasn't bad to look at, and he was pretty padded in the wallet, too. but the important part of the title was the ' fake ' in fake dating. as long as you didn't let the public know, you could see anyone you wanted, within reason, of course. you never thought you would exercise that privilege until you met shuji hanma. shuji didn't think he would want tetta's girl, either, until he met you. it seems you both had the same thing in mind, there was only one piece left of this puzzle.

##YUZUHA SHIBA ﾉ handcuffs, public sex yuzuha was never really the same after taiju was killed, but that was okay, you loved her still all the same, come hell or high waters. of course, you and your girlfriend had gone through this discussion before. if she was caught by the police and had to give a statement about her whereabouts on that night, you knew exactly what to say and how to prove her innocence. you were her alibi, so it was important you play your role to perfection. even in such a serious situation, though, you couldn't help but admire how beautiful your girlfriend looked, with her hands cuffed together in the interrogation room.

##SHINICHIRO SANO ﾉ psuedocest, secret pining, mentor kink you'd shown up at the sano family residence one day as many people tended to do if they were a part of tokyo's delinquent world, but you never really left. you weren't part of the family, but you also weren't... not part of the family. eventually, you got your own room to sleep in if you needed to. sometimes you didn't fall asleep immediately, though, too focused on the growing need between your legs, although you could never quite get there for one reason or another. shinichiro was more than aware of this, of course, and he was also willing to help you out, too.

##HARUCHIYO SANZU ﾉ cnc, stalking, hatefucking dating haruchiyo was the worst decision of your life, but it was far too late to take it back now. after you caught him with a camera inconspicuously put inside of a gift he gave you, you had finally had enough. lucky for you, your lease was ending, so you were able to move into a different apartment on the other side of tokyo. unlucky for you, sanzu wasn't going to let you leave that easily. he was never, ever going to let you get away from him that easily, no matter how fast or far you tried to run from him. he ruined your life, but that wasn't enough for him. he needed to ruin you.

[hon3y-y]

how to be reader fuuuuck cuck!sukuna is making me cream. You know what that makes me think though... cuck!Nanami. He's old fashioned and doesn't know how to 'hook up' but that doesn't mean he doesn't like seeing the cute secretary he's crushing on getting split open in the supply room every lunch break

cw: spy-cam/non-con filming

YES YES YES!!!!

Nanami never took himself as a pervert but can’t help but put a spy cam in the closet. He tried to make it discrete, but from an angle where he can still see what’s happening. Every time he sees you get up to go to "lunch,"  he immediately closes his office door, logging into the live film to watch you. 

He’s so gross, even having lube stored in his desk drawer. He squirts the liquid onto his tip, letting out a hiss when the cold substance touches him. It sends a shiver up his spine as he spreads it, watching the screen when the man begins to eat you out.

You’re standing, one hand covering your mouth to minimize your gasps, and the other was rooted into the man’s hair. “Mmm—please, fuck me~” Kento imagined it was him you were talking to. The man’s hand crept up your blouse, pulling at the buttons to undress you.

He’s addicted to your boobs, it’s not even funny. Sometimes, you’ll come in wearing a low-cut shirt, and it’ll move to wear so he can see the lace peeking out. or when the shirts are a little snug, all he can pay any attention to is how soft they look. (Little does he know, you do it on purpose. who wouldn’t👀❓)

Nanami liked when you were fucked stupid, panting, and nearly crying with tears down your face. You looked so pretty, with your glasses slipping down your nose with every thrust. He could hear how you were trying to be quiet. it was no use, though, since it seemed like the man’s only purpose was to make you scream.

He liked when you were standing, noticing the shaking in your legs from how good you felt and begging for a release. The view from the camera angle was perfect, capturing all the ripples in your skin whenever he pounded into you hard.

Kento’s movements matched the pace of the guy fucking you, gritting his teeth when he felt close. He gripped his chair, letting his head roll back to enjoy the orgasms more. His cum came out in thick globes, coating his hand, which he used to draw out his pleasure.

Nanami couldn’t hide his orgasm to save his own life. cheeks pink, and his hair is a little messy; his glasses are a little foggy too. It’s only after the horny fog leaves his mind that he realizes what he’s done and feels so ashamed. He cleans up quickly, shutting the computer tab with a deep feeling of guilt in his stomach.

though, it doesn’t last long as he watched you try to walk as casually as you can to your desk. He notices the little trembles in your step and how you glance around, nervous to know if anyone heard you. so cute.

And just like that, the guilt is gone, and he’s horny again:(

[tyuns-world]

⌞ My personal cam girl ⌝

Pairing: Camgirl!reader x taehyun

Genre: smut

Warnings: 18+ (MDNI)

Summary: Taehyun has an obsession with his favorite cam girl but can he be cured of it when he runs into a cute stranger.

Wc: 2k

Taehyun was an ordinary man with a seemingly typical life. He worked diligently in marketing and maintained a regular exercise routine. His good looks did not go unnoticed, as he frequently received compliments on his attractiveness. Despite this, he was never seen with a romantic partner, and his sex life was virtually nonexistent.

The reason behind this was Taehyun's secret struggle: he wasn't just addicted to pornography; he was obsessed with a particular cam girl. It was a sticky situation for him, having to hide his sexual deviancies. His room was a shrine to you, with posters and signed postcards framed and displayed all over his walls and nightstands. He could never let anyone into his room because of this, keeping it locked at all times when guests are over. Who would ever understand his need to worship such a goddess?

He watched your streams religiously, never missing a single one. Even if a stream coincided with an important event, he would simply cancel the event to stay home and watch you. He followed all your social media accounts and was always the first to like your posts, the biggest gifter, and the most active supporter. You knew his username by heart, thanks to all the donations and gifts he had given you. A sense of pride and joy filled his body whenever you said his username to thank him. The only problem was that his favorite goddess remained faceless, always adorning elaborate masquerade masks during streams and in pictures.

As usual Taehyun finds himself out shopping for a new gift to give his goddess. You tend to love plushies more than the sex toys you're often gifted, a trait he finds utterly charming. As he spots a huge Rilakkuma plushie that he knows would be perfect for you, another hand reaches for it at the same moment.

"Oh, I'm sorry," says a sweet voice. Taehyun looks down to see an absolutely adorable girl. Her braided hair is tied up with a cute pink bow, and her bright, round eyes are accentuated with charming eyeshadow. Her dark skin looks soft to the touch, and her wide, cute nose adds to her endearing appearance. Her lips are plump and glossy, enhanced with alluring lipstick. She's wearing an outfit that Taehyun is certain he has seen before. "Oh no, it's okay. I'm sure there's another one I can get. You can have this one," Taehyun says, taking the plushie off the shelf and handing it to the girl. He's never found anyone this cute—besides his goddess, of course—and it's making him nervous. What is he doing, giving away the perfect gift for his goddess? The girl takes the plushie from him, and her eyes light up with happiness.

"Cute," Taehyun murmurs, taken aback by his own words. He tenses up, his heart racing.

The now embarrassed girl hides her face, her eyes peeking shyly over the big plush.

"Oh, I'm sorry, it's just—" Taehyun starts to ramble, his words tumbling out in a rush.

"No, it's okay. Um, thank you for the plush..." she trails off, waiting for Taehyun to introduce himself.

"Taehyun," he finishes, his voice softening.

"Well, this is a bit forward, Taehyun, but can I have your number? I mean, maybe we can have joint custody," the girl giggles, her laughter like honey to Taehyun's ears. He's never been this taken by anyone before, except his perfect cam girl. This girl is so different—more cutesy and shy—whereas his goddess is confident, sexy, bold, and a mistress in her own right. Her soft demeanor is a stark contrast, making his heart race even more.

"Yeah, sure, here's my contact information." Taehyun isn’t sure why he’s following this girl's whims, but her aura makes him want to do anything for her. After they exchange numbers, the strange cutie toddles off to pay at the counter. Taehyun smiles to himself, thinking about how adorable she looks, until he notices a problem at the register. He hurries over. "Hey, what’s up?" he asks the girl.

She looks at him, clearly upset. "I forgot my wallet. I’m such a ditz, and the cashier says they can’t hold it for me," she says, her voice trembling on the edge of tears. All this over a plushie—she must really love them. "It’s fine, I’ll pay. You can give me half later since we have joint custody," Taehyun says with a reassuring smile.

"Are you sure? The guy says it's $250," she says, looking at him worriedly.

"Yeah, I've spent more on a plush," Taehyun laughs it off, paying the cashier and starting to hand over the plushie. The girl stops him. "No, no, you can have the first week until I pay you back. Then our son is mine," she insists with a playful smile. Taehyun barely has a chance to respond before she leaves the store, waving his number in the window and mouthing, "I'll text you," before disappearing into the crowd. He watches her go, the playful exchange leaving him feeling lighter and more excited than he had in a long time.

It has been exactly a week since then, and Taehyun is starting to wonder if she'll ever contact him. He tells himself he'll be perfectly fine if she doesn't; he can always go back to his original plan and gift the plushie to his favorite cam girl. Sitting in his apartment, he eats a sad dinner of buldak and spam when a ping comes from his phone. He checks it excitedly, hoping it might be the cute stranger. His heart sinks a bit when he sees it's just a notification for a random live stream from you.

He shakes his head—how could he be disappointed when his goddess is doing an extra live for her fans? He abandons his dinner, bolting to his room to set up the stream on his PC for better quality. "Hello, my pups. Today, I have sad news for all you degenerates. I will be taking a hiatus to focus on some other stuff, but don't worry, I'll send out this month's care package and this stream will be extra steamy because I know whatever I do, y'all will like it." The stream is indeed steamy. Taehyun almost pathetically came without even touching himself. You were just so sexy and knew exactly how to move your body, captivating him completely. The way you move, the sultry tone of your voice, and the seductive looks you give the camera hold him spellbound, making him forget everything else.

When your stream ends, Taehyun finds himself rewatching it to get off. He can't do it when you're live; he has to focus entirely on every movement you make. As Taehyun strokes himself through his boxers, his arm flexing, showcasing his muscular stature, with pants long discarded halfway through the stream, he finds himself imagining the face of the pretty girl he saw over your covered one. Thoughts of her glossy lips wrapping perfectly around his hard cock flood his mind. He envisions the seductive scene, imagining how sexy it would be to reduce her to a ruined mess beneath him. The image of her innocent eyes looking up at him, filled with desire, fuels his arousal. That night, he comes harder than he ever has before, his body trembling with the intensity of his release.

While tidying up, another notification buzzes on Taehyun's phone. Glancing at it briefly, he's surprised to find a new number texting him: "Where shall we meet to discuss our 'joint custody'?" Hastily wiping himself clean, he discards the tissue and rubs his sticky hands against the bottom of his shirt. With trembling fingers, he responds, "There's a cozy café near the store where we met. How about meeting there?" Anxious for her reply, Taehyun nervously bites his nails until his screen illuminates with her response: "Sounds perfect! See you there tomorrow at 3."  

Today is the day—Taehyun keeps reminding himself it's not a date with the pretty girl; it's just a talk. While tossing and turning last night, thoughts kept him up, and Taehyun realized he never caught her name, and curses himself for not asking.  Whilst gazing at his reflection in his coffee cup, fussing with his bangs for the umpteenth time, a sweet voice perks him up. "Hey, hope you didn't wait long." Taehyun smiles up at the pretty stranger, taking in her appearance. She's wearing a stunning red dress, her makeup more glamorous than their first meeting. 

"No, I haven't been here long," Taehyun lies. He's been here since the cafe opened at 11 am, though he won't admit it. "I see you brought the goods," the charming woman says, gesturing over to the huge, hard-to-miss bear seated right next to him. "Yep, just as promised," Taehyun smiles. She settles into her seat as the waiter approaches. Opting for the only tea on the menu instead of coffee, she leans in to whisper to Taehyun, "I'm not much of a coffee person." "Oh no, I could've picked a different place," Taehyun furrows his brow, angry at himself for never asking what she would prefer as their meeting place.

She lets out a laugh that's like music to Taehyun's ears. "Don't fret, it's okay," she reassures him, her hands briefly squeezing his before retreating to her side. "Okay, so I only have cash. I hope that's okay," the pretty woman in red starts to pull out a thick envelope, drawing some curious glances as she prepares to hand it over. "Um, I think it's best if we wait," Taehyun nervously says. The woman looks around and catches the hint quickly, putting the money back into her purse.

"How about we go to your place for the exchange? Do you live nearby?" she asks, her eyes shining with anticipation. Taehyun hesitates; he does live close by, but the thought of her discovering his secret makes him anxious. Yet, her expectant gaze softens his resolve, and he eventually admits to living nearby. "Perfect," she responds, rising from her seat and heading to the counter to get her tea to go. 

The closer they get to Taehyun's place, the more nervous he becomes. Despite his attempts to play it off, the lady can sense his unease, offering silly jokes and remarks along the way to loosen him up. As they approach his building and ride the elevator up to his door, Taehyun's hand shakes as he turns the knob. The cute stranger notices his trembling and takes matters into her own hands, opening the door herself and stepping inside. She gives a big stretch, her comment breaking the tension, "Wow, with how nervous you were the whole time, I was expecting a dingy, dirty place."

Taehyun's place is surprisingly luxurious, boasting an amazing view and expensive modern furniture. It's a stark contrast to his plain outward appearance. She carefully takes off her shoes and plops herself on the couch, and puts her drink on the coffee table, making herself at home. "Is it that you've never had a woman in here?" she teases, observing Taehyun's reaction closely. Taehyun tenses, a subtle shift that catches the attention of the cutie.

"Oh, you haven't? Do you not go on dates? I assumed with your good looks and all, you were a playboy," she remarks, looking at Taehyun with surprise. Taehyun shrugs, setting the plush on a separate chair before settling himself beside the lady on the couch. "Nope, I haven't had a girlfriend since high school. I'm pretty busy with work and my friends," he explains. "So, are you a virgin?" The lewd question, coming from such a innocent looking girl, makes Taehyun choke on his spit. She looks expectantly at him, as if she isn't asking a very personal question.

"No, I'm not, but at least take me out to dinner first before asking stuff like this," Taehyun jokes, trying to lighten the mood. The lady's eyes widen, seeming to realize the kind of question she just asked. "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm way too open about stuff," she says, her face warming with embarrassment. "That's fine. Do you want some lemon or anything with your tea?" Taehyun offers, trying to ease the tension. She shyly declines, focusing on her drink as Taehyun excuses himself to use the restroom.

Left alone in the living room, the cute stranger's eyes wander around the space. In all honesty, she was on the hunt for a new apartment, and this building looked perfect. She mentally takes measurements of the living room and the kitchen. "Hmm, I wonder how big their rooms are," she muses.

The cute stranger knows it's inappropriate to snoop, especially into someone's room, and if it's locked, she'll give up and go back to her seat. But her line of work requires a spacious bedroom, so her curiosity outweighs her morals as she turns the doorknob. To her surprise, it's unlocked. She flicks on the light and is taken aback to find a bedroom shrine dedicated to her.

"What the hell?" Taehyun's voice, filled with a blend of anger and surprise, startles you as he swiftly moves behind you, shutting the door with a firm hand. "I—" you mumble, ready to explain yourself, but stop. "Actually, why aren't you explaining yourself? You're the stalker," Taehyun looks taken aback. "Stalker? You came over to my place and started snooping around. I don't care how pretty you are; that's just not cool," he crosses his muscular arms. A normal person would've thrown you out by now, but Taehyun was willing to overlook this if you could overlook his obsession.

"You mean you didn't know?" you say, looking incredulous as him. His face twists in confusion. "Oh god, you really don't," you exclaim. You gently pry Taehyun's hands off the doorknob and stride into his room. Taehyun follows, intending to usher you out, but you begin undressing, causing him to blush and close his eyes. "Open them," you demand, Taehyun obliges. His body is unable to resist your command. You're seated on his bed, legs spread, and Taehyun swallows nervously at the sight. "All of this," you gesture around the room, "is me," you declare. Taehyun is less surprised at your announcement because as soon as he saw your stunning naked form, he knew. How could he not? He studied it nightly, thinking of all the ways you could use him.

Taehyun's mind races, from the situation at hand. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. Instead, he finds himself drawn to you, his gaze lingering on your captivating figure. You, on the other hand, seem unfazed by the intensity of the moment. With a subtle smirk, you break the silence. "Surprised, Taehyun?" Your voice is laced with a hint of amusement. Taehyun clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. 

"I... I don't know what to say," he stammers, his eyes still fixed on you. You rise from the bed, moving closer to him with a confident stride. "You don't have to say anything," you reply softly, reaching out to trace a finger along his jawline. "Actions speak louder than words, don't they?" Taehyun is powerless against your intense gaze, not knowing what to do next. However, you do and so you take charge, closing the distance between you two and pulling Taehyun into a steamy, lustful kiss. You reach for his hands, guiding them to your ass. Taehyun quickly catches the hint and squeezes it, bringing you impossibly closer to him.

You roam your hands under his shirt, relishing the feel of his defined abs beneath your fingertips. Taehyun's confidence grows as he takes the lead, guiding you backward until you fall onto his bed, with him on top. You try to assert your dominance by nipping and sucking on his neck, playfully calling him your pup, but Taehyun's exploration of your body quickly overwhelms your senses. 

His rough hands send electric waves of pleasure coursing through your needy body, and you let out a soft sigh of satisfaction as his lips pepper fluttery kisses down your neck. You're accustomed to being in control in sexual encounters yet you find yourself completely dominated by Taehyun's presence. As his fingers expertly trace circles on your wet pussy, you surrender your body entirely to him, lost in the overwhelming sensations of pleasure. "More," you pathetically whimper into Taehyun's ear, and he happily obliges, shoving two of his fingers inside your soaked, aching core. Your back arches in pleasure as Taehyun flicks his fingers inside your cunt, each movement sending ripples of pleasure through your body. You had pegged him for inexperienced, but how wrong you were; he effortlessly has you panting and moaning with just his fingers. 

"I'm close," you moan out as Taehyun expertly flicks his fingers in a steady pace. Instead of accelerating, chasing your orgasm as you desperately want, he removes his fingers, making eye contact as he sucks your juices off them. Before you can whine or protest, Taehyun lines himself up with your pussy and roughly shoves himself inside, eliciting a loud moan from you. Taehyun sets a teasing rhythm, causing you to beg him to go faster. Ignoring your pleas, he continues to use you as he pleases, driving you wild. As he nears his own climax, Taehyun increases his pace. You cling to him, the heightened intensity bringing you even more pleasure.

Lost in the intoxicating haze that is Taehyun, he whispers dirty words into your ear, echoing ones you've used when teasing your stream. Now, he uses them against you, pushing you over the edge. Your body tenses with pleasure as you release around him. Taehyun however maintains his rhythm, smirking as he practically fucks your orgasm back into you. "I'm coming inside," he declares, leaving no room for argument as he fills you with his warm cum. 

The now worn-out boy practically collapses on top of you, spent from the intense encounter. "Shit, I'm sorry for being a bit much," he mumbles into your hair. "No, you were amazing. I loved every second," you reassure him, running your fingers through his hair. "So, what do you think about doing this again? Maybe at my place, in front of a camera," you suggest, your voice laced with anticipation. Taehyun just mumbles an exhausted agreement, too spent to realize what he just agreed to.

[pwettybbybunny]

E-Whore (GN! Cam Boy/Girl Reader x HSR's Simps )

Veritas Ratio | Sunday | Blade | Jing Yuan (different scenarios for each men ♡)

Being a Trailblazer is amazing, but since it technically made you jobless, you needed some way to fund your shopping sprees when you visit new planets, so while some of your crewmates resort to farming calyx, you chose the easy way.

You had a hot body and you knew how to use it, making you an instant hit on the streaming site, moreover, as the site connected to servers in multiple galaxies, the chances of anyone you knew or will meet in real life knowing your side hustle are slim enough to never happen, right?

Wrong.

Now Jing Yuan, was shook when he first saw you in the Loufu, standing beside your crew as Welt talked to Miss Yukong, your arms wrapped around March's looking so innocent as if you are not the same cutie that helps him release his work stress most night.

He did his best not looking at you when he talked to the express crew, knowing he won't be able to help himself and will sink in those big pools of innocence who were gazing up at him with fascination and interest, looking so different and yet so same from your streams.

Out of everything, the poor general never expected to fanboying over a cam girl/boy. And it was already tough day for him, alright? Having to ignore his constantly ignore his horny thoughts, and his dick twitching whenever his mind drifted on you, knowing how close you were to him, how he can actually have a chance.

So the seconds man got some privacy, his hands were kneading on his crotch unprofessional he knows, but he was a man with needs and couldn't much than wait for the results once his plans were in action. So here he opening up the damned site, turning it on and looking at his favorite video, the first video of your he saw.

A neko cosplay.

He first heard of you when he overheard few young cloud knights simping over you, agitated when he hear them whispering about you than focus on their training. So that night he tried to see what all this fuss about.

The old man lazily opened the website searching your username, just out of curiosity and no intention to jerk off, only to be greeted by an clip of the cutest thing with cat ears on, and a cat tail but plug, sucking on a popsicle with your chest left bare, making him surprised by how sudden his cock stirred up, jerking of to clips of you, having the best session of his life, leaving him panting and twitchy, after splattering on his phone.

You were just so easy to get addicted to...

So in present when he heard your voice outside his office in the Seat of Divine Foresight, fingers fiddling with his stripper, it took him a good while to realize, he wasn't just daydreaming about your pretty voice but you were literally there, nocking on the door.

He hurriedly got himself together, throwing his phone on the table, and clothes fixed, o it isn't obvious what he was doing, greeting you with a charming smile.

Miss Fu Xuan has sent you to give him some documents, and he took it as an opportunity to invite you in, and talk to you, befriend you, just about anything. But then there was some commotion outside with two cloud knights bickering, so he reluctantly asked you to settle the documents on his desk and wait while he give the knights an earful.

Happily getting back, his heart racing at the thought to be in your presence, but then his smile dropped, as he entered back his office, seeing your face flushed red, as you try to hide you face by your hands, sitting all pretty on his seat, with the light of his phone lightly illuminating on you.

He was about to ask what's wrong, but shut his mouth, eyes widening as he realized:

Oh, he forgot to close his phone.

[ilium-ilia]

In Limbo

simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader | mafia!au | masterlist

Chapter Seventeen: brick by brick

tw: none

“So… we talking about Marco and Andrei, or…?”

Simon’s neck hurts. Painfully tense muscles plague him from spending the last handful of nights sleeping on the couch rather than in his bed. It’s a symptom of your skittish tendencies, he supposes. You’re still keeping an awkward distance from him, which he knows he can’t entirely blame you for. It’s a lot to soak in; his job, and the things he’s done, the things everyone has been hiding from you. You’re still talkative—at least, not any less than usual—but you’re hiding. Drawing away in order to make sense of this new mess that you’ve found yourself in. 

So, he gives you the bed—and your space. 

Rubbing at the back of his neck with rigid fingers, Simon swivels in the computer chair next to Johnny. If he’s lucky, he can work the knots out before they root deep enough to form a migraine. Tight tendons pull at the base of his skull, and they don’t seem to want to relent. The dim incandescence of the security room helps stave off the beast, but the question posed to him only pokes the bear. 

“What’s there to talk about?” Simon’s playing dumb. Even the mere thought of Marco is enough to make his brain throb uncomfortably within the confines of his skull. He’d rather snuff this conversation out before it ignites. 

“Aye, I see,” Johnny hums. He eyes the handful of monitors in front of him before spinning around in his chair. “So, we’re pretending I never saw anything on the cams?” 

“Would appreciate it,” Simon huffs. His hand falls away from his neck as he tilts his head to either side. There’s a sharp click! that accompanies the movement, followed by a sigh. “Don’t need this gettin’ out, yeah? I promised her that I’d keep it between us.” 

Johnny nods. “So, I suppose you wanna keep Price in the dark too?” 

The reply that burns the tip of Simon’s tongue hardly seems to come from a sound mind. Lie to John Price? The John Price? As if his family hasn’t been known for snuffing out undesirables for generations—for keeping the streets safe for those who would otherwise be crushed under steel toed boots? The same boot you’re currently pinned under? He thinks back to the other day, and the tears that pooled in your eyes; the fracturing of your voice as you all but begged him not to tell John. 

Or worse—Aelin. 

How did his allegiance switch so abruptly? So violently that an omission of truth suddenly comes easy if he does it for you? 

“Don’t mention it to anyone. Price included,” Simon confirms. 

Johnny is a good man. An honest one. So much so that his discomfort manifests in the minute clenching of his jaw at the thought of telling such a lie. “Is she safe at least?” 

Safe. Simon thinks about it. You. curled up in his bed wearing nothing but a plain t-shirt, burrowed beneath heaps of blankets. You’ve been sleeping non-stop lately, like you’ve got a deficit you’re attempting to catch up on. Though you owe a debt to Marco, you owe a larger debt to yourself and your abused body and mind. He lets you curl up like a cat and nap the days and nights away, because if you’re comfortable enough to sleep around him, then that must mean something. 

Something good. 

“She’s stayin’ with me,” Simon shares. “Probably will be for a while.” 

“Ah.” Johnny’s chair squeaks as he leans back. “So… you two official, then?”

Simon pauses, head tilting to the side. “You’re a funny man.” 

A cheeky remark flits across Johnny’s tongue, but the words are lost on Simon’s ears. His phone buzzes in the pocket of his jeans, and his heart skips a beat. There’s no hesitation in retrieving his phone and allowing the screen to illuminate his face with a text message from you. 

i’m learning new tricks (: 

Your message is quickly followed by a picture. You’ve captured an image of the string you always play cat’s cradle with, laid out flat on the coffee table in his living room. It’s in a design he doesn’t recognize. The form is fuzzy without fingers holding it taut, but he’s still able to make out the lattice-like rectangle that swirls in the photo. 

it looks better when i’m actually holding it. fun to do!

Simon tries to hide his smile. 

Looks great sweetheart. 

A playful scoff pulls Simon’s attention away from his phone. He looks up just in time to catch the tail end of Johnny’s rolling eyes before he twists his chair back around to look at the monitors. 

“Ay, right. I’m the funny one,” he mutters, sarcasm dripping from his words. 

Another message from you has him ignoring the man. 

it’s called jacob’s ladder

Simon has to blink several times in order to clear his vision. He rereads your message, convinced he’s seeing it wrong, but nothing changes. Each word is still the same—all the way down to the name. 

Didn’t know they had string versions of that. 

It’s impossible for him to hide his mirth. That sly chuckle that seeps from his chest as he stares at the screen, waiting for your response. Simon is a simple man. He likes his jokes, no matter how debauched they are. 

i don’t get it

Somehow, he’s not surprised. His fingers hover over the screen as he contemplates his answer. 

I’ll tell you when you’re older. 

Muffled music swells to a crescendo, only to quickly diminish into a hush as the door swings open and closed again. John Price enters the room with broad shoulders swaying, but it’s impossible for him to hide his exhaustion. He’s jetlagged. Enervation gnaws at the heels of his feet as he strides into the room, bags pulling at his eyes. Still, he manages a smile as Johnny swivels around to greet the boss. 

“Evening boys.” Despite his weariness, his voice is as gruff and sonorous as usual.

“Missed you, boss,” Johnny teases. “How was your holiday?” 

“Warm,” John chuckles. 

“Looks like you got a bit of color, too,” Simon notes. 

Laughing, John rubs the tip of his rosy nose. He pretends not to notice the slight peeling of his skin. “Like I said; warm. Warm, sunny, and a hell of a lot better than London in December.” 

For a short moment, his eyes flicker to the rows of monitors behind Johnny. Black and white footage of clubbers dancing illuminate the tight space of the room. The building is packed, almost alarmingly so, full to the brim of tired uni students with nothing better to do over their break as they dance the night away as the New Year approaches. 

“And you boys? Got some good R&R, I hope,” John asks, arms crossing over his chest. 

“Oh, you know me,” Johnny sighs. His fingers buzz, tapping his knees like he’d rather be clacking away at a keyboard than having this conversation. 

“Oh, I do,” John chuckles. “No broken nose this year though, yeah?” 

“Not yet,” he grins. 

“Of course. And you, Simon?” 

His phone buzzes just as the attention is turned on him, but he doesn’t dare look down at his screen. Instead, he nods as he adjusts himself on the faux plastic leather seats of the office hair. 

“Yeah. Good. Manchester was cold as hell, but we survived,” he explains cooly. 

“Chip like it?” John continues. 

“Her and Joey got along well,” Simon humors. 

“And your brother? Doing well?” 

He nods. “Happiest I’ve ever seen ‘im.” 

This feels like an interrogation. An uncomfortable insight into his life that he usually doesn’t offer up willingly. For a moment, Simon’s guilty conscience gets the better of him—has him feeling as thin as cellophane, and he nearly melts under the heat until he realizes John’s looking at him the same way he did all those years ago in that pool house.  Hidden away in the locker room, offering him a job. Earnest and amicable. 

This is the furthest thing from an interrogation. It’s rapport building. This is the man who has sent him to break jaws to keep children safe and spill blood over the smallest of cuts on women. John’s known you much longer than Simon has, and he’s simply checking in on the very man he helped save all those years ago. Muscles melting, Simon allows himself to take a proper breath. 

“Glad to hear he’s keeping clean,” John praises. “Either of you heard from Kyle?” 

Johnny chuckles. “Nothin’ but moaning and groaning. Still hungover from his night out with Lucy. Fucking lightweight.” 

“Surprised they gave her Christmas off,” John muses. “Last I remember, the hospital stiffed her with having to work every holiday, and then some.” 

Halfway through his sentence, John’s phone begins to buzz. Loud, obnoxious, incessant—a phone call. His sigh is heavy and tense as he retrieves the item from his pocket. His thumb nearly goes to ignore it until he reads the ID at the top of the screen. 

“Wife calling you home?” Johnny teases. 

“We’ll see,” he chuckles. 

His laughter dies in his throat the moment he answers the call and he hears Aelin sobbing on the other end. 

The world continues to rage around them as the room falls into silence. Aelin’s wailing cuts through the air like ice, bouncing off the walls like her voice is nothing more than a toy to be tossed around. Johnny and Simon share a look—wide eyes framed by furrowed brows—while John attempts to calm her. His head dips as his free hand rubs at the back of his neck; a stress response Simon has rarely seen in the man. 

There are a few words that cut through the static of the call, each of them framed by blood curdling cries: 

John—please—I can’t do this—not again—I can’t—

There’s an attempt made at diffusing the situation. Of gently cooing into the phone, of asking what’s wrong, but nothing calms her. It’s all tears and painful laments that he can’t seem to quell coupled with sharp hyperventilation. John doesn’t bother to give either of the boys a second glance before he’s ducking back out the door. Music swells, then quickly dies. Neither of them speak. They just sit in their chairs with Aelin’s cries echoing in their minds. 

“The last time I heard her cry like that was when her ex-fiance cheated on her,” Johnny mumbles to himself. He pauses as he looks at Simon—he’s still staring at the door. “Think everything’s alright?” 

“Yeah,” Simon responds after a pause. “If not, we’ll know soon.” 

His tone is even—strong and unwavering—but the truth is, Simon hates the sound of crying. It makes his teeth ache as if he’s scraped his fingernails on a chalkboard. He’s reminded of his mother. Even after all these years, her screams haunt him as she braces for the unforgiving impact of a closed fist against her face. He sees her crumpled form on the kitchen floor, a trembling hand covering her eye. 

It reminds him of himself as a child. Pathetic pules and sputtering echoing off the bathroom walls as he begs and screams. High pitched and prepubescent. Water sloshing. Feet kicking. His father always hated the sound of him—every sniffle, every blubber, every cough—and he eventually grew to hate it too until even the sound of his own breathing infuriated him. 

Worst of all, it reminds him of you. In the midst of your trashed apartment, hardly able to get a full breath in, tears streaming down your face—terrified. Prattling. Rambling. Hit with an unforgiving concoction of grief and fear; his stomach churns at the mere memory of you trembling against him. 

Pushing it out of his mind, Simon brings his attention back to his phone—back to you. Everything melts away—Aelin’s cries, the music pounding just beyond the door—and for a moment it’s just him and the notification flashing on his screen. 

i just googled it. the ribbon and woodblock toy, right? jacob’s ladder? i forgot those existed haha

It’s past three in the morning by the time he gets home. You’ve left the kitchen light on for him. He doesn’t know why, but that makes his heart wrench. 

You’re the first thing he checks on. He doesn’t even bother to take his shoes off at the door. The very moment the deadbolt latches behind him, he’s peeking into the bedroom through the gap in the door. Snug, you’re buried under his comforter, head hardly visible as you burrow your face into the pillow. For a moment, he stands there and watches you with nothing but a sliver of light seeping through the doorway to illuminate you. 

Safe. Comfortable. Sleeping. 

Retreating away from the door, Simon hides himself away in the living room. He’s forgotten to lay out clothes to change into, and he curses the idea of sleeping in his jeans as he sinks into the couch, but he’d rather that than disturb your sleep. The cushions are flattened. Morphed into the shape of his body after a near week of using it as a makeshift bed. A jolt of electricity shoots through his neck as if his body is already anticipating the ache. 

He tosses his arm over the back of the couch as he mindlessly flips through programs on the television. Usually, he’s able to sleep without white noise, but these days it’s hard to get any rest at all. There’s money to save up, debts to pay. A sharp pang echoes throughout his knuckles. It throbs like a heart quivering with memory, and he attempts to quell it by flexing his fingers. It’s a symptom of a larger beast. Of something that demands blood—thirsty for penance. 

An eye for an eye. 

He’s satiated this type of reprobate before, and he’ll do it again in due time. 

Anything for you. 

A nature documentary is Simon’s choice of white noise for the night. Auburn fur blurs on the screen as a red fox bounds along the environs of lush woodlands. Its thin snout pokes up in the air where a wet nose dances with short and sharp inhales. Simon smiles as the narrator—a man with an overly posh accent—drones on about the critter’s life. 

As he goes to place the remote on the coffee table, he spots a piece of string. It’s tied in a circle, just about as long as his forearm. Worn fibers fray with years of use, yet it still holds strong—well loved. Curious, he picks it up. He thinks about the pictures you sent him that evening, and how proud you were of the new trick you learned. 

How your first instinct was to tell him about it. 

Careful fingers wrap the string around his own hands as he sets up a round of cat’s cradle. It’s easy enough—a simple slip of his middle fingers—but he doesn’t know how to continue. Hazy memories attempt to surface in his mind as he thinks of your hands. How your fingers moved and danced to manipulate the string so effortlessly. Practiced to the point you can do it without proper thought.

He tries to move his thumbs. It’s what he recalls you doing, anyway. Weave them between thin lines of string until it feels firm and secure. 

When he drops his pinkies, he’s left with nothing but a knot. 

“Si?”

He doesn’t hear you approach—doesn’t hear the squeak of the bedroom door or the creak of the floorboards—you appear like an angel swathed in the light of the TV. Freshly woken and rubbing your eyes, he wants to lay you down. Needs to pull thick blankets over your body and let you get the rest you deserve. It’s an odd urge to feel; one he doesn’t quite understand. Instead, he pulls the string off of his fingers and places it back on the table where he found it. 

“Did I wake you?” he asks. 

Your prostration temporarily clouds your mind, forcing your brows to furrow at his question. He watches as you mull his words over in your mind, then shake your head. 

“No.” The fox on screen begins to cry out some melancholic tune neither of you can decipher, and still your eyes don’t leave Simon. You stare at him for so long he begins to question the state of your consciousness. “Will you come to bed with me?” 

Simon has to bite his tongue to keep his response from spewing out of his mouth too quickly. His hands reach for the remote where he kills power to the TV. A stillness stretches between the two of you—you swear you can hear him breathe. 

“Course.” 

Eager to get out of his jeans, Simon shucks them off in favor of sweatpants while you mindlessly climb back into bed. He’s hardly able to settle in next to you before you’re clamoring for him. Hands paw at his chest as you nuzzle against his side—he would chuckle if it didn’t make his heart swell to the point of bursting. Arm wrapped around you, he holds you close as he drags the blankets up where he tucks them underneath your chin. 

As you mumble quiet goodnights to one another, and your body goes still, Simon can’t help but think he could die like this. With you in his arms. With you here at his house leaving lights on for him to come home to. Sending him texts while he’s at work. Pictures of things you’re proud of; of things that make you happy. Perhaps that’s what he’s been missing all these years—someone to take care of. 

Or, maybe it’s just you. God, he could die like this—

—but really, he’d rather live like this. 

When morning dawns, and pale light seeps through the curtains, Simon is awoken by gentle fingers. Convinced he’s dreaming, he revels in the feeling. Nails carefully ghost the line of stubble on his jaw, working up, up, up into his hair, weaving between the short strands and rubbing into his scalp. He’s reminded of the way his mother used to wash him up as a child. Too scared to fit into the tub; leaning over the side instead as she rinses his hair clean of suds. 

Refusing to stir, he lays there for a while longer. It would be a lie to say he hasn’t had an appetency for this; for you. Your warmth against his side and your head on his chest, just like things were back in Manchester. That strange longing still has a hold on him. This strange affliction that not even sleep can shake off. It haunts him. Curls up tight at the side of his feet and sits with him like a cat that’s suddenly decided that his body is its home now. 

“You’re awake,” you note. 

He allows his eyes to flutter open when you speak, and his chest expands with a tired sigh. “Am I?” 

Movement ceasing, your fingers leave his hair and Simon almost reaches for you to put them back. “Your heartbeat changed,” you explain. 

Even the mere mention of it has his heart racing. You’ve been listening to it for quite some time this morning, counting each slow and steady beat as it drums against your cheek. It quickened the moment you started to caress the side of his face, lulling him back into the waking world. For a moment, it made you feel powerful; being able to change the beating heart of another person. 

“What time is it?” Simon asks. You feel his legs shift, long limbs stretching the morning ache out. 

“Dunno,” you admit. “Early.” 

“You’re not a very good watch,” he playfully grumbles. 

“Tick tock.” Things are quiet for a moment as you adjust yourself, head nuzzling further against his ribs as if you won’t be happy until you’re burrowed inside of his chest. “Were you playing with my string last night?” 

He’s glad you can’t see the odd smirk on his lips. “Was tryin’ to figure out how you play cat’s cradle by yourself.” 

You hum. “I meant what I said, you know. About teaching you.” 

Your words set off a reaction within him consisting of flexing arms and a fluttering heart. He pulls you closer, and he swears his breathing nearly ceases when he feels you melt into him. 

“Think I’d just like to lay here for now, sweetheart.”

So you do. Together. Your body lays heavy on the mattress as it holds you in place while Simon’s warmth radiates into your bones until you’re sure you’ll dissolve. You stay there laying next to him until the sun’s light transforms from a pale yellow to a glorious gold. Manna hangs heavy in the air as Simon’s thumb begins to gently caress the side of your waist—absentmindedly and sweet. 

This quiet moment ends by the fault of your stomach. It churns and protests with a pathetic growl, and despite how muted it is, Simon still hears it. Staying as still as humanly possible, you pray he doesn’t mention it—that he can allow himself to rest for just a bit longer—but of course, he stirs. 

Simon cradles your head with his palm as he moves you to the side, torso leaving the bed as he sits up, and you whine. It’s an unfamiliar sound that leaves your lips; this pathetic whimpering. It’s enough to get him to pause for a moment, body twisting as he gives you his full attention. He rests your head down on the mattress but he doesn’t retract his hand. 

“What?” he questions.

There’s a tight pull at the corner of his lips, and you’re suddenly aware of just how close he is. Hovering over you, fingers pressed into the back of your skull, his eyes locked on yours. Staring up at him, your tongue goes dry as you try to think of a response. How are you supposed to tell him he’s the first comfort you’ve felt that didn’t suffocate you? That removing yourself from him is like tearing a bandaid from your skin—epidermis removing with it? 

“Don’t go.” It’s hardly above a whisper. A susurrus that almost fails to drift through the air. 

He chuckles and it’s deep. His voice in the morning is always rough. “Gotta eat at some point today.” 

But he doesn’t move. 

Simon’s looking at you. Really looking at you. Not just into your eyes, but he’s soaking up the way the light filters through your eyelashes and the pressure indents on your cheek from sleeping. You find yourself doing the same thing; tracing every single faded scar that decorates his face and the subtle curve of his nose. His lips press together just as his thumb brushes along the apple of your cheek. You’re frozen. Forever caught in this moment. 

“Gorgeous.” 

The word leaves Simon’s lips without permission, but he doesn’t retract it. He isn’t ashamed of it, either. He refuses to play it off and be coy—he continues to caress your cheek, and you wonder if he can feel the heat brewing inside of you. Firing synapses, blood superheating to the point of sublimation—can he feel it? The way you crumble? How you melt beneath his touch? 

They say Rome was destroyed within a single day, but you know that’s not the case. Like all things, its destruction was systematic. Timed and viscerally demanded. Rome was destroyed the same way all things are—brick by brick. 

Simon takes you apart the same way with this kiss—brick by aching brick. His lips press against yours, setting you ablaze as if he’s lighting you for your immolation. Like he’s trying to burn you away until you’re nothing but ash and cinder. It’s heavy, but soft. A weight so unfamiliar yet it feels like home. It’s simple. Blithe. He neither gives nor takes with this kiss; he only speaks. 

You try to speak back as your lips perk against his, jaws gently moving in sync. It’s an insurmountable task. How are you supposed to pour out all the words you wish to speak into this single union? How can it be possible to convey to him that this is the first kiss that has not ripped you to shreds? How do you explain that you’re trembling out of ardor instead of fear? 

For once, love doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt, and it tastes like stale cigarettes. 

Simon’s shaped your lips into a shy smile by the time he pulls away. Still hovering over you, he brushes a kiss against your forehead. 

“Breakfast?” he asks, muttering the word into your skin. 

He kisses you, and instead of talking about money—like you’re so painfully used to—he speaks of food. Of sharing a quiet moment with you. You don’t know why, but you want to cry. The pressure builds behind your eyes, but instead of crying, you laugh.

For once, everything is quiet. There is nothing but Simon’s soft breath against your skin, and the pounding of your own heart. Your fingers do not twitch. They do not yearn for string. 

Only for him. 

“Yeah,” you smile. “Breakfast sounds good.”

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[yanderestarangel]

Cam you write something about a shy dom Tomas and a shy sub reader?

TW┊soft!dom tomas, unprotected sex, ftm reader, afab anatomy, v!sex, praise kink, size difference, eat out, daddykink, blowjob, creampie, shy!tomas x shy!reader — both have little sexual experience.

♡⁠ You two are a sweet couple. The sweetest in Eathrealm, also at the same time you are the shyest couple of all ── You and Tomas are embarrassed to say what you want or feel to each other.

He is very closed but behind the "ghostly killer ninja" guise he remains a sweet and embarrassed man. You both stuttered with each kiss you exchanged becoming a shaky mess of smiles and awkward words.

Tomas would blush and tell you how much he loved you after placing his head in the crook of your neck to hide the blush on his cheeks — this also applied to sex, with several series of "Please can I touch you here?" Or "Can I cum please?" Or "Am I doing this good? Am I making you feel good, boy?"

And it was another one of those shy makeout sessions where you always sat on his lap while the two of you moaned into each other's mouths like puppies needing the touch and friction of each other's bodies — Tomas in another hand couldn't believe how perfect this moment was, he felt as if he was in a dream. You on his lap, kissing so softly and gentle, as you wrapped your arms around his neck. His hands were already starting to wander around your back, squeezing your soft ass from time to time. He moved his head to the side to taste the side of your neck, licking and nibbling on your skin.

"F-Feels good, doesn't it...?" He spoke in Czech this time, he found it more romantic. "I've never felt like this before, not as strong as I'm with you." He kept kissing you, trying to keep his hands near your ass, not wanting to go further, but he was so damn hard already. "You're so sweet, baby boy... You make me quiver."

Then, clothes are quickly thrown in some corner of the room and scattered on the floor while the ninja was already between your thighs with his head buried in your wet pussy, he leaned in, opening his mouth wide to lick and kiss your folds. He spread your lips apart with his fingers, kissing and sucking on your clit, making you roll your hips, trying to get in deeper.

"Tréba si to, můj, krásný chlapec." ( 'I need this, my, beautiful boy'. ) His nose hit your clit with each lick of his hot tongue as your hole became more lubricated by his saliva and your juices, you could see his face flushed as his eyes were fixed on you — your soft thighs squeezed his head and your muscles trembled, you were unable to say anything due to shyness and mutual excitement at seeing your boyfriend eating so well.

Tomas, on the other hand, felt his dick throb every time you tried to contain a moan and muffled it with your hand going to your mouth. In all his life, he never saw such a beautiful and petite man, He thought about how he could break you in half if he wasn't careful, the comparison was colossal, he was bigger, stronger and taller than you, plus his dick was thick to the point of being compared to your wrist.

"Mhm, such a sweet taste, I could die here... Damn so good..." He moaned softly, shoving his face deeper into your pussy, trying to make you squirm with pleasure. You moaned, gathering your courage as you asked to taste him too, after all, his dick was twitching and smearing his stomach with pre-cum, he was looking for friction with the mattress, just wanting to be relieved too. Tomas chuckled softly, pulling away for a second, looking into your eyes. "Sure, baby boy. But only if you're sure you're ready to handle it..." He said, making you blush even more.

"Come here, Come to daddy." He sat up, adjusting himself, his cock hard and waiting for you to wrap your lips around it. "Remember to use your tongue, I'll help you with it." He continued, taking a deep breath, wondering how it would feel to have his cock in your mouth, something he had dreamt about. You knelt down in front of the man with short silver hair who was already sitting on the edge of the bed — Your knees hurt from the contact of the floor on your skin ; your lips finally met his warm skin, the salty taste of pre-cum fitted perfectly onto your tongue, making you both moan.

Vrbada could feel his cock tingling as you started to play with it, licking the tip and every single vein with your tongue as you pleasured it. He felt his balls tighten as your hands started to play with them, gently squeezing and massaging them, making him shiver in pleasure. He grabbed your head with a firm, yet gentle grip, guiding your mouth up and down his shaft while he watched you, fully focused on satisfying him.

"Keep going, the sound you make when you suck my cock is so enticing." He started to groan even more, his cock throbbing, teasing him to the edge. "You're doing great, keep it up for me, please..." He gripping the sheets tightly, not wanting to move and ruin the experience for you. "It feels so good... I don't remember any blowjob being this perfect." He let out a soft grunt, slowly moving his hips, feeding his cock in and out of your mouth.

His hands started to gently pull your hair, not too harshly. You moaned more slyly in response, bringing your fingers to your neglected clit as you rubbed yourself against the soft pillow beneath you, looking for some kind of relief from the pressure between your legs.

Tomas was getting more and more turned on, watching you sucking him while you pleasured yourself, made his cock even harder, he was fucked, he was yours. And he didn't even think about it as a bad thing.

The Lin Kuei ninja pulled away, he was a jittery mess. He was worried about making the wrong moves, even though he knew that with you, it could never really be wrong.

He felt bad for not being dominant enough, but he was so shy about this kind of stuff. You were new in this, he was new in this, and he knew you two just needed to figure it out still.

"I know, baby, we're both new to this. I'll teach you, and you'll teach me." He promised, moving his hand to rub your cheek soft. "Please, come back, I need you... Can we change positions, right? I want to be on top, fill you up, it's something we've never done before." He said shyly, hoping this was what you wanted as well. "If you're okay with it —of course." He added, once again feeling himself getting harder, eager to please you — wanted you to feel as good as you made him feel.

You soon lay down beneath him, watching his blue eyes stare into your flushed face as his muscles flexed to find a comfortable position for the size difference between the two of you — some routine apologies and nervous laughter were heard from you until the breaking point; Vrbada felt your eyes on him as he approached, the nervousness fluttering inside his stomach. He needed to show you how much he truly loved you, how much he desired you.

So he slowly, but firmly, entered you, feeling your heat engulfing his cock. He was worried about hurting you, so he slowed down his thrusts, getting as far as to only half his cock in you. He stopped for a moment, looking into your eyes.

"Little prince, does it hurt? If it does, you need to tell me right away, I don't want to hurt you." He panting, trying to listen to your body, looks, and moans to understand how you felt about his size. Tomas smiled, staring at the way his cock would pop out of your pussy, covered in your juices. He wanted to see how far he could go, so he thrust a little deeper, noticing how you moaned softly, finding a rhythm with each thrust. He continued kissing you, biting your bottom lip from time to time, his hands wandering around, touching your body, cupping your breasts.

"Sh-shall I fuck you harder, baby? Let me hear you moan for me." He pulled out, only leaving a bit of his cock inside you as he looked into your eyes, the blue penetrating your soul. "So desperate to cum, pretty boy?” Tomas teased, slowly sliding his cock back in, thrusting gently.

"You want your daddy to fuck you? Yes, baby boy, you do." He starting to speed up, really taking control of the situation. He wanted you to feel how much he loved you, and what better way to do so than just fucking your brains out? The thrusts became rougher, he poured out praise for you even though they came out clumsily from his tongue, a mixture of clipped moans and the need to have an orgasm made him roll his eyes of pleasure.

He was the happiest man in the world inside your cunt, filling you to the brim with his cock and making you both a dumb quivering mess, begging each other to cum together. You were a good boy, and he was going to reward you, filling you up with his hot seed, making you feel even more special. He fucked you harder, listening to the sound of you moaning, the sounds your body made while he was inside you, your pussy sucking his cock, needed to fill it with his cum. He loved how you were taking everything he was giving you, never once complaining or slowing down. You were the perfect partner, the yin to his yang. The complement he never knew he needed.

"Oh, fucking hell—. I'm c-cumming. Cum with me, pretty boy." He grunting and thrusting into you as deep as he could while you played with your clit. It wasn't long before he started to fill your pussy with his hot seed, cumming hard and filling you to the brim. His balls slapped against your ass, and he couldn't stop moaning. He felt so relieved and happy, being able to cum inside you.

"Thank you, baby boy, for this moment... You always please daddy, good boy..." He panted, nestling his face into your neck, snuggling as he caught his breath.

˖ ࣪ ˖𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓼 𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓿𝓮𝓭 ©𝔂𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓵. 𝓭𝓸 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓬𝓸𝓹𝔂, 𝓻𝓮𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓼𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓮 ˖ ࣪

[nadvs]

cam girl (part twelve) (end)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning alcohol use

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

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

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

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

Why the fuck are you doing this to him?

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

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

Minutes pass. You don’t answer.

Rafe: ?????

Again. No answer.

Rafe: dont ignore me

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

Rafe: answer me

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

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

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

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

He texts you again: why are u acting like this

Thank fuck you respond.

You: i guess the slut got bored of you first

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

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

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

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

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

You: ??? i’m not home

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you drunk?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rafe is silent for a moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” he says stubbornly.

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

He almost feels nauseous hearing you say that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He tries again, putting his palms on your cheeks.

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

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

“Why?” is all he can sputter.

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

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

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

“It’s not like that,” Rafe says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He takes a deep breath.

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

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

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

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

“It doesn’t matter.”

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

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

Rafe meets your gaze.

“You saw that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, it’s - it’s more than that. I-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Try,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He can’t even say it.

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

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

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

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

“I mean no sex,” you say. “At all.”

“Fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You only look at him.

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

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

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

“Let me do the work,” he says.

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

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

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

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

Rafe can’t stop himself from asking.

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

You smile to yourself.

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

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

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

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

“Am I allowed to kiss you?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Getting frustrated?” you whisper.

“No,” he lies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you respond.

“Please,” he begs.

“Kisses. Only.”

He groans. You laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck.” He literally whimpers the word.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rafe’s temperature is the least of his concerns.

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

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

“I- I can’t,” he moans.

“You can,” you encourage.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wanna fuck you,” he pleads.

“Then fuck me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’d he say?” you ask.

“I’m not repeating it,” Rafe replies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart drops. Could he have been faking…?

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

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

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

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

“You hungry?” he says.

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

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

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

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

You laugh and continue to chew.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That was one time,” you scoff.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(the end) (continuation blurbs)

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

[sphireath-wisp]

#One, Two, Three, Kiss!

Sypnosis: You get put on a kiss cam with another person while watching their game live. How do they react?

Part 1: Yoichi Isagi, Micheal Kaiser, Chigiri Hyoma, Mikage Reo

Warnings: Jealousy, not proofread, the reader goes on the kiss cam with both girls and guys, short, cursing, a little suggestive depending on how dirty your mind is

Featuring: Shoei Barou (@randomnumber20, @ariachaos), Ryusei Shidou, Sae Itoshi, Rin Itoshix GN! reader

Shoei Barou

You shifted closer to your armrest, away from the guy next to you to highlight your reluctance. It felt more than just sickening - the cheers from the audience to go through with it, the shockwaves sent through your body when you felt a hand caress your forearm. You wished it was anyone other than the guy in the kiss cam with you, his touch disgustingly gentle.

Your feeling didn't last long though as you noticed the guy's grip on you loosen significantly, his fingers trembling against your skin. It felt like there was a sudden chill all of sudden. He gulped, eyes locked onto whatever or whoever was behind you, towering over the both of you.

"Babe!" You cheer with a smile, your shoulders dropping and a sigh of relief escaping you. Barou's glare melted away at the sight of you, placing a reassuring pat on your shoulder - though, it didn't take a genius to sense the anger seething out of him. "I'll win the game for you later, go grab some snacks for yourself first, I'll pay."

You felt Barou place a cap on your head, pushing the peak of the cap down so you wouldn't be able to see the horrific scene in front of you. You could hear a yelp and, from the corner of your eye, you spotted blood. For a moment, you felt pity for the guy, but that quickly dissipated.

Ryusei Shidou

Being in a relationship with Shidou was like adopting a clingy, violent, rabid dog from the street. Did you love him? Absolutely, without a doubt. Did you question why you loved him every moment of the day? Hell fucking yeah. Every time he scored, he would stare in your direction and give you the biggest shit-eating grin ever. Having front-row seats only made it easier to hear him ramble and boast. Though, it did make you feel content to see him so motivated.

Oh boy, did that all change when the realization dawned on you - you were on a kiss cam with the person next to you. The gaudy effects and filters on the screen, the hearts littered across the panel of you and that poor person, you could feel a migraine kicking in as you imagined the scene Shidou would stir up.

A hand wrapped around your waist, yanking you away from the person. "Shidou, don't do anything stupid." You attempted to bring him back to his (nonexistent) senses, though it was in vain. He was already cracking his knuckles, a hand holding the collar of their shirt and his other hand balled into a fist.

Desperate times call for desperate measures - you try to reassure yourself as you pinch his earlobe and pull him close to you. You lower your voice to a whisper, a little flustered as you part your lips. "Score 10 more goals and win the match, then I'll spend the night with you."

Without a single atom of hesitation in his body, he let go of the person's collar - practically forgetting about their existence. Shidou's hands are on your waist, pressing kisses all over your face, his giggling paired with a dopey smile. "10 more goals and I'll have the best night of my life? You've got yourself a deal."

Sae Itoshi

This man is completely absorbed in his match, he couldn't care less or so he believed. However, that unpleasant, irked expression on his face when he saw you on the screen with another girl said otherwise. He could control himself, of course, hands tucked comfortably into his pocket to hide his clenched fists, fingernails digging into the flesh of his palm, eyes lingering on the screen for a bit too long.

You make eye contact with the girl next to you and he notices it, his jaw clenching and his body tensing up. You talk to her for a moment shaking your head firmly right after. "I have a boyfriend."

His lips part and his shoulders drop, chin dipping down. The camera pans elsewhere and he scans the audience to find you, fishing his phone out from his pocket. You feel your phone buzz in your hand, instinctively checking it to see Sae message you.

"Don't scare me like that again."

He could see his favorite, oh-so-charming grin on your face, as you rested your chin on your palm. As your fingers gently tap against your phone screen, his gaze alternates between you and his phone screen. "Yessir <3"

He chuckles softly. "I'll treat you to something special after the game, be ready"

Rin Itoshi

He clicked his tongue when he saw you on the screen. Rin was already pissed with how the match was going, but seeing you on that idiotic kiss cam - not to mention, during the break from the match -only soured his rotten mood even more. His eyes narrow, the already secure grip he had on his phone hardening.

"Switch seats" You glanced at your phone, reading the message Rin sent. "Make sure that idiot doesn't try anything."

You smirk. The camera must have caught it because Rin immediately replied back, "What's with that smile?" Your hands lay on the armrests of your chair. Instead of moving like you were advised - no, instructed to, you melt deeper into the chair, really getting yourself comfortable.

"What are you trying?" He texts with one hand and the both of you hear the emcee announce that the game is starting where it originally left off.

You noticed his game has been a little off and while you weren't sure if it was nerves or the fact that you were watching, you wanted to provide your beloved boyfriend a boost of motivation. Crossing your legs, you text Rin after skimming through the messages he spammed you. "If you don't want this guy to try anything, you better wrap this match up quickly, good luck Rinrin <3"

Tucking your phone away, you stare as Rin dashes out first. He shoots you a glare paired with a smirk and an incredulous scoff. You check your phone for one last time to prepare yourself for an exhilarating match, humming to yourself as you notice a new message from Rin.

"You better keep your eyes on me, during the match and tonight as well"

[slutforwoo]

☆15. what the actual fuck☆

previous|masterlist|next

you'd be lying if you said you weren't nervous to have yunho over again, even it was purely just to study. rushing to clean up the mess in the living room you do even hear when the doorbell rings. snapping out of it, you quickly make your way over to the door.

taking a moment to regain your composure, you finally open the door to reveal yunho waiting with food in hand.

"I got some pho on the way," he smiled as you moved to the side to invite him in.

"omg you're the best yuyu, you can put it on the table"you beamed as you closed the door and followed him into the living room, sitting around the coffee table.

you sat opposite each other, yunho pulling out the pho and his books and notebooks. setting it to the side while the two of you ate and just caught up a bit.

"I just can't wait for this year to be over man"you sighed, "like, im alost done with school so"

"must be nice, I have a long way to go"yunho said, seeming a bit bummed at the amount of school he had left.

"you got it though, your smart like yun, you're in the honor roll" you teased.

"ah, yes, I forgot, honestly," he laughed lightly, looking at the slight smirk on your face. "I would be a liar if I said this was with an insane amount of effort, but for me it isnt" he said, trying to hold back a laugh

"you lucky fuck" you say rolling your eyes before taking the last bite of your food and getting your books and things out to start studying.

after clearing the table you guys begin, going over the key things you might need come your class tommorow. it was genuinely a shame that break was over so soon.

you had been lucky you took a couple of days to pre shoot some content and videos. aw fuck did you lock the room? you couldn't remember. you excused yourself to "go to the bathroom" but in reality you went to make sure the room was locked before making your back into the living room, yunho deep into writing him notes.

"do you want anything to drink?"you ask walking past him into the small kitchen, opening up the fridge to see what you had. "I have, water, banana milk, fruit punch?" you question as you grab a banana milk for urself.

"banana milk" he called out, looking up to you digging into the fridge to grab another bottle before walking back over.

"you went a section ahead," you pouted as you handed him the drink, taking a look at his notebook.

"I promise you can just copy my notes and I'll give you the rundown," he smiled as you took his notebook to copy what he had written down and he took a moment to take in what you were wearing.

you had on a short-cropped tank top and your grey zip-up jacket. yunho always found it a bit odd that you would try to always wear jackets. along with sometimes adding long sleeves to cover your tattoos, you always want to hide. but sometimes he'd notice the makeup smudge on certain spots, but he never said anything. just out of pure respect.

It was getting hot in the apartment, you felt yourself start to sweat and you were having an internal debate on taking off your jacket. you heavily doubted that yunho knew what you do or watched your content. no way right? after the internal debate you decided to take it off but the doorbel rung.

"ah I think thats the mail gimme a second" you said excusing yourself and as you got up and started to walk away, you took of your jacket.

yunho's eyes going wide when he recognizes the familiar fairy wing tattoo on your back. there was no fucking way? you're fucking cher??? the cam girl him and his 2 other friends obsess over??? who the fuck were the guys in the videos and streams then?? no fucking way.

you turn around from grabbing the mail to see yunho in his state of shock for just a split second before he fixes his face.

"is everything okay yun?" you question as you made your way back to the living room.

"u-uh yea, I just forgot I need to go um with uh san to get groceries for the house today. I'm sorry I have to go," he stuttered out as he gathered his things and rushed out of the apartment.

you stood there in shock, suddenly alone and confused as to why he made up a lie to leave so quickly. there's no way he recognized the tattoo on your back, right?

p☆rnst☆r tag list 

@roxhanah@sunnysidesins@spenceatiny18  @kookieswithjung   @kcharlyy  @bloomyroses  @jiminssluttyminx  @fairy-jojo  @oceanside-view97 @domfikeluva @mountquokka @frecklypotato @bambbiisworld

[diejager]

First Cw: Smut, sex work, porn, cam girl, dildo, riding, dildo mount, self-hate, depressive thought?, whorshiping, tell me if I missed any.

Part 4

He watched your live, your body writhing in your sheets, back arched and head thrown back in pleasure. His body unmoving, body rigid underneath his armour, eyes unblinking and back straightening against the backrest, as he stared at his screen. He never touched himself when he watched you from afar, eyeing your hips rolling against the mount you strapped to a pillow, riding the dildo you suctioned to the plastic stand.

You rode it slowly, chest heaving while you ran your hands over your breasts in a sensual way, your finger running over your glossy lips, caressing your jaw and down the curve of your throat, your sweaty and shimmering skin. Your hands travelled down the valley of your tits, pinching your perky nipples with painted nails, a pretty red, powerful and vibrant —sexy in every manner. His eyes followed the hand that dipped down your stomach, over your slick mound and spreading your lips to show your viewers the silicone cock that stretched you out.

His hot breath sounded loudly behind his mask, it would've fogged up his glass if he wore any, his laboured breathing coming out in shoulder-moving puffs. His cruel eyes dilated, pupil rounder than usual as his eyes stuck obsessively at your cunt, his ears ringing with the loud, echoing squelch of your cunt and the eerie silence of his locked room, and body strained with self-restraint, fingers curled into a fist. He felt dazed, mind numbed to all but you and what you brought out of him: his slurred reaction, his oversensitive nerves and his increased heat.

You were like a drug to him —addiction, ascension, delirium. Your mewls breaching his broken mind and your bouncing body burning itself into his eyes, hearing and watching you gush around the toy, cunt fluttering wildly as you shuddered, hair sticking to your forehead and skin flushed. Despite his growing needs, the swelling that tightened his pants to an uncomfortable extent, he made no move to chase it, to soothe the pain and ache that filled his body, like a wave crashing against his scarred and disfigured body, and the wind blowing him away like the insignificant specks of sand that caked the earth.

He wouldn’t touch himself after the show, sending you money for the perfect show and drowning himself in a freezing shower to wash off the sin, his greatest mistake of loving something so precious and beautiful. He let his cock grow soft under the water, the occasional jump of his cock reacting to the arousal that still lingered in his bloodstream and the coolness of the water.

He couldn’t help himself, he promised, he fought, he glared, but nothing could stop a wandering mind, a needy and vulnerable shell of a broken man that wanted nothing but a fleeting moment of love, of affection —of utter devotion.

“Hello?” The voice was as sweet as the last time he heard it, the softness and affection that deepened his scars, “Nikto?”

“Милая,” his voice came out in a low rasp, throat dried and muscle dehydrated. He spent too much time hiding himself than caring for himself, “You did well.” [Sweetheart]

You laughed, your gentle and angelic chuckle at his compliment —fitting the stage name you used, Seraphim. He was reminded again why talking to you felt like a sin, blasphemy committed by him to his goddess. Perhaps he shouldn’t have called, daring to be so near a being much greater than him, pure and fragile. For all his self-restraint, he was a weak, weak man, always chasing for more when he’s already lost so much.

“Thank you,” you sighed. He heard sheets shuffle, your body rolling to your stomach, face propped up on your chin while he spoke to you on the phone, “When are you coming back?”

“Cкоро.” [Soon.]

Part 6

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