#maybe a bit of 'private investigator' in there as well

[witchofanguish]

I think a Changing Moon Lunar who exalted from their work as a lawyer would be cool

[sketch-twentytwo]

A tale as old as time: a brilliant chase between a sly phantom thief and a—hey wait a minute!

Phantom Thief!Shuichi Saihara and Detective!Kokichi Ouma for my fic, [He Lies in Spades].

Where in Shuichi is a daring yet methodical phantom thief/vigilante dead set on exposing the truth and Kokichi is the eccentric, genius detective hot on his tail!

(reuploaded because I realized that my PT!Saihara looked too similar to a few PT!Ouma's, my bad! New design has more of a detective trench coat vibe befitting of our retried private eye!)

[woso-dreamzzz]

Secret

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Baby!Reader

Summary: Ingrid's got a secret

"Skatten min," Ingrid coos to you softly," It's okay. It's okay. Let's try and calm down."

You whine helplessly against her, knocking your head against her collarbone as you suckle randomly.

"Skatt," Ingrid laughs," You're not getting milk out of there."

You don't know any different and suckle a bit harder. It's not exactly ideal but Ingrid's happy that you're no longer crying.

You've been tearful ever since she came home from training, wanting nothing more than to be close to her. Usually, Ingrid would give in to your demands but she'd had a meeting with a media outlet back home so had to put you down.

You whined and cried the entire time and have only now quietened.

You were not the most clingy of babies but now that you had both made the move to Spain, something must have flipped in you.

It was hard going. It wasn't that Ingrid was trying to keep you a secret (it's not like you were really a secret if Frido knew who you were) but it was easier to keep football separate from her private life.

Here, at home, it was just you and her and no language barrier to navigate. It was nice and sweet but sometimes Ingrid missed the companionship of people in the apartment.

Frido came over sometimes, always to see you and try to convince you that she was the cooler Scandinavian but no one else on the team knew about you so getting people to come around without blowing the big secret was kind of difficult.

"You calm now, skatt?" Ingrid teases as she sits down on your playmat and draws some toys closer. You reach out easily for your plastic ladybug, hitting the button that makes it sing happily.

You giggle when it starts to sing, babbling along surprisingly in tune for someone so little while Ingrid sings along to the actual words. It's your favourite toy of all time even though Ingrid hates it because it's always so loud.

It's so loud in fact that Ingrid almost doesn't hear the doorbell ring. It goes twice in a little tune and she gets to her feet.

You screech when she moves away but she soothes you with a fond swipe over your hair and an offer for your dummy. You suck it into your mouth quickly, bobbing it rhythmically before smacking your ladybug again.

Ingrid rolls her eyes at you with a little smile before pulling open the door. She expects it to be a delivery man. Her mother has been quite vocal in her annoyance about Ingrid still playing football abroad when she had such a little baby to look after so she had been sending regular gift boxes to the apartment.

She's already reaching for the pen to sign for the package when she realises that it's Mapi.

She freezes.

Ingrid likes Mapi (maybe more than likes her) and her day always brightens after seeing her but there was no reason for Mapi to be waiting outside of her door.

"Has something happened?"

Mapi looks a bit embarrassed to be waiting outside and she clears her throat, holding up a tin. "I made too many cookies," She says," I was wondering if you wanted any."

The tin looks suspiciously like one you buy at a supermarket and the cookies look completely uniform as well, like they've been bought rather than made at home.

"Oh..." Ingrid's face goes a little red like Mapi's too. "Thank you." She takes the tin, brushing her hands against Mapi's with a small smile.

They stand awkwardly on the doorstep, just staring at each other before Mapi jumps out of her skin as the annoying jingle of your ladybug filters through the door.

You screech your own babble to it before there's a loud crash.

Ingrid turns immediately to investigate and Mapi slips through the door before she notices.

"Skatten min," She sighs," You're not meant to throw your toys."

Your ladybug is sitting upside down quite a way away which is fairly impressive for a five-month-old to do. You're still singing along to it though, clapping your hands to the tune and then getting distracted by the fact that you have feet.

"That's a baby. Whose baby is that?"

Ingrid doesn't realise that Mapi is even there until she speaks. She knows the jig is up now and the number of teammates who know about your existence climbs from one to two as Mapi stares down at you.

"My baby," Ingrid admits as she puts the tin of cookies on the counter. "Mapi, this is y/n."

You recognise your name, turning your head to look at her before going back to inspecting your feet.

"A baby," Mapi says again," You have a baby?"

"Yes." Ingrid knows she's being a little bit rude but Mapi's yet to say anything of substance on the matter and she'd rather go in defensive and be surprised rather than calm and end up in an argument.

"But..." Mapi stares at you. "She's so little." She squats down in front of you and waves. "Hola."

You look at her strangely before bum shuffling over to your ladybug, hitting it repeatedly even though it's upside down and you can no longer reach the button.

"Does she not like me?"

Ingrid has to admit, the pout on Mapi's face is adorable. "She likes no one more than that stupid ladybug."

You've worked out how to flip it over again and finally slam your hand on the button, sending it into a new wave of the song.

"She's adorable," Mapi says, standing," Why haven't we seen her before?"

Ingrid shrugs. She doesn't really have a good excuse so she settles on the one that she used on Frido. "It's a hassle, isn't it? There would be no one to watch her if I took her to practice."

"We can all watch her!" Mapi insist, suddenly looking very excited," Someone's always injured so they can take her! Oh, please, Ingrid! She's so cute! She can be the team mascot."

"I don't know..." But Ingrid does know. She's been wanting to take you to practice for a while now but she'd always chickened out, deciding that it was too late to come clean about her little secret.

"Please!" Mapi begs, already moving away to sit next to you. "I promise that there'll be someone to watch her. We can use her as a weight at the gym!"

You look at Mapi oddly again, confused by this strange girl with pictures on her body. You don't do anything though, just hit your ladybug when the song stops and poking at your own feet.

She starts clapping along to the tune though. Mapi doesn't sing like Ingrid does (mainly because the words are in Norwegian and she doesn't know that) but she still tries to engage with you.

You let her and then clamber a bit closer. You're still occupied by your ladybug but you do sit yourself in Mapi's lap and she takes that as a win.

"I guess..." Ingrid says as she watches the way you take Mapi's hand, forcing her touch the button now. "Maybe next week. And only for a few hours."

"Yes!" Mapi pumps her fist into the air before looking down at you. "Did you hear? You're coming to training soon!"

You ignore her, focussed entirely on your ladybug.

[zerbu]

The Sims 4 Mod: Simvestigations

Your Sims can become private investigators in this mod for The Sims 4! What was originally based on the Private Investigator active career from The Sims 3 Ambitions, evolved into its own mini game game. Take cases and look for clues to determine who is innocent, and who is the culprit.

How to Play

The mod adds a new "Simvestigations" app to the phone. Select it and choose "Search for Cases" to find a case to solve. It works similarly to the Odd Jobs system from Island Living. Solving cases increases your star rating, and a higher star rating unlocks more cases that are higher paying but more difficult.

After choosing a case, the game will assign a random Sim as the culprit, and one or more other Sims as decoys (assuming you start a 0 stars, your first case will only have one decoy). Using interactions that are available to your Sim, deduce which Sim is the culprit. There are various ways to find clues, including talking to the suspect, rummaging through their trash, using the Listening Device from StrangerVille, and more. See further down for more information. The mod is more likely to choose Sims with traits, skills or who live in worlds based on the case description.

As your Sim finds information about the case, there is a random chance it will increase your Sim's "Confidence" that the other Sim is the culprit. Once your Sim's Confidence reaches 100%, you can use the phone to report the culprit and complete the case.

Your Sim isn't doing all the work, though. You, the player, have a bit to do as well. While the chance of gaining Confidence is random, it is higher when looking for information on the actual culprit than on a decoy. Therefore, if you notice an unusually high success rate, you may have found the culprit and should continue investigating. Conversely, if you notice a low success rate, maybe you should start investigating a different suspect. Your Sim can only ever get 100% Confidence on the culprit, decoys will cap out.

Ways to Investigate

There are multiple ways you can find information on a suspect:

Become friends with them and convince them to give you information.

Become friends with them and trick them into giving you information.

Be mean to them and demand information.

Secude them for information.

Become friends with a household member and ask for information.

Rummage through their trash.

Research them on a computer.

Hack for information on a computer.

Use the Listening Device from StrangerVille. After using the device to listen in on a suspect, click their recording and select "Use as Case Evidence". This will delete the recording and has a chance to increase your Sim's Confidence.

Analyze previously rummage trash using the Chemical Analyzer from Get to Work.

Side Cases

Aside from the mini game, there are other cases you can take to earn extra money and increase your star rating. These include socializing with other Sims around town for information, exploring hidden areas from packs, and more.

Some side cases require certain packs to function. The mod is split into seperate package files, so you can delete ones for packs you don't have.

Download

Ready to start solving cases? Download the mod now!

Download Simvestigations

[its-all-stardust]

Sugar || 9

Masterlist || Part Eight

Steven Grant/Sugar Mommy!Reader

Word count: 2.2k

Series Summary: You meet Steven in a museum gift shop and feel an instant connection. Before you walk out the door you decide, perhaps against your better judgment, that you need him to be your sugar baby. Now you just need him to let you treat him right.

Note: this chapter is very late and fairly short. tbh i could have added a lot more, but seeing as it's been 2 months since the last chapter, i wanted to get something out. But I am still working on this fic!! I'm going to finish it i swear, so please please yell at me to get my ass moving!!

When you called the next day, Steven didn’t answer. You waffled about whether to leave a voicemail and ultimately decided not to—not on that call, anyway.

On the second call, later that day, Steven still didn’t answer. That time, you left a message asking if he was feeling better and asking him to please call you back.

He didn’t. There wasn’t even a response when you sent his payment for going with you to the auction, something entirely unlike him.

By the third call, another day later, you were afraid of once again being too much, too needy. Yet you left another message anyway. You tried to keep it professional, not wanting to let on how upset you were.

“Steven, I still haven’t heard from you. I was just checking in. If there’s an issue with our business arrangement, please let me know as soon as possible.”

You wonder if he’s sleepwalking again or whatever disorder is causing him to blackout. Perhaps it’s like that first time, and Steven will come back confused but well and whole. You try to tell yourself that’s what’s happening now, trying to remain positive.

But, of course, the worry still creeps in.

What if he’s lost?

What if he’s hurt?

Should you call someone and report him missing? Is he missing?

There’s a chance you could be taken seriously, but you also know you could be seen as a psycho jilted ex-lover.

You contemplate the merits of hiring a private investigator or going to Steven’s apartment yourself to see if he’s there.

You can’t go in, you don’t have a key, but you could knock. Maybe even ask his neighbors if they know anything.

You simultaneously try to convince yourself that nothing is wrong and something is.

If something has gone wrong, he needs you, and you can’t get to him. If it hasn’t, then he’s purposefully avoiding you for whatever reason.

You remind yourself you shouldn’t feel this way. Shouldn’t feel so attached.

By Sunday evening, you’re a bit of a mess. If you bit your nails, they’d be gone by now. Instead, your anxiety manifested outward. Your apartment is both chaos and order.

You went on a bit of a cleaning spree. Normally, once a month, you hire someone to come deep clean your home, moving furniture and putting in more elbow grease than you typically care to. These last few days, though, you attempted to take matters into your own hands. And while you were already cleaning, you figured you might as well sort through your cabinets, closets and shelves to see if there is anything you no longer feel the need to hold on to.

As a result, the bathrooms and Steven’s bedroom are spotless. The living room and the kitchen have been destroyed. Only your bedroom is untouched, but that’s only because you got distracted after going through the walk-in closet.

You would have kept going until something in you snapped, or everything was back in order if only the hunger pangs weren’t so distracting. It was a blessing in disguise that your nerves never seemed to affect your appetite.

You’re at your kitchen table, barely tasting whatever leftovers you had in the fridge and staring off into the middle distance when your phone rings.

At first, the sound doesn’t register, drowned out by the constant static filling your head the last few days. But then you realize what it is and lunge toward the counter where you left your phone.

Your heart stops when Steven’s name flashes on the screen. You don’t have to think before pressing the phone to your ear a second later.

“Please tell me it’s still Friday,” Steven blurts as soon as you answer. “Or even Saturday, and I got really drunk on champagne last night.”

Relief fills you, but it’s quickly overshadowed by worry.

“Baby, it’s Sunday,” you tell him gently, sinking back into your chair at the table.

“I was afraid you’d say that,” Steven says, dejected.

For the past few days, you had thought, perhaps, that Steven was going to end your relationship. That he no longer wanted to be your sugar baby and didn’t know how to tell you. But his losing time, unable to recall anything during his blackouts, is much more frightening.

“It’s like I’m losing my mind,” Steven continues. “First, I’m losing days, and now Gus regrew a fin.”

That catches your attention. “Gus what?”

You distinctly remember Steven talking about his pet goldfish only having one fin. “Goldfish don’t regrow body parts, Steven.”

“Well, it’s either that or someone broke into my flat, stole Gus, and replaced him with an imposter,” Steven says, his voice bordering on joking and hysterical.

As ridiculous as it sounds…

“You’re sure you don’t remember doing any goldfish shopping?” you ask feebly. Someone replaced Gus after who knows what happened to him, and the most likely culprit would be Steven himself. Not that any attempts at regaining blackout memories have proven fruitful, nor is there an obvious explanation as to why he would do that in the first place.

“Not that, at least,” Steven answers quietly.

“You remember something?” you ask quickly, excited. Whatever it is, it might help you both figure out what’s happening.

“There’s…something alright.” He’s hesitant, like he isn’t sure what to tell you. Perhaps afraid you’ll think him crazy or maybe be disturbed by what he does remember.

“Can I…come over?” Any confidence Steven had around you seems to have been washed away by whatever happened while he was gone. In its place is the same uneasy timidity he had when you first began your relationship when he wasn’t sure what he could and couldn’t do.

“Steven, you never have to ask.”

When he walks through the door, Steven goes straight for your embrace, desperately, it seems, needing your arms around him. He breathes a sigh of relief, melting into you.

You don’t say anything and simply enjoy the feeling of Steven in your arms again. Before, you could survive a few days without him next to you. Now, you can’t imagine letting him out of your sight.

You don’t know when that change happened.

“Do you need anything?” you finally ask, your voice breathless. A mixture of relief and Steven squeezing you a little too tightly—not that you’re complaining.

“Just you,” Steven mumbles, his face buried in your neck. A pleasant heat fills you.

The two of you stand there for a moment longer, tangled up in each other, relishing in the comfort. You want to move to the couch to hold Steven properly but don’t want to be the first to let go. You don’t want Steven to think for even one second that you’re abandoning him in any way.

Steven shifts, lifting his head, and presses his forehead against yours, closing his eyes.

“At least I know you’re real,” he mutters more to himself than to you.

You have no idea what that means. It’s likely a part of what he has to tell you about the last few days.

“What happened?” you ask softly, prompting him.

Finally, Steven stands up straight, his arms loosening around you but not completely letting go.

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Then, with a slight shake of his head, he says, “I don’t even know where to start.”

With your hands on his arm, you lead Steven to the couch. “May I?” you ask, and with Steven’s nod, you continue. “Let’s start with the auction. You seemed fine at first, but something happened to you.”

Steven’s brow furrows in concentration, trying to remember what happened just a few short days ago.

“I remember going. We met your friend, but then…” He shakes his head. “It’s blank. Part of me didn’t feel right, but… I don’t know how to describe it. One second was with you, and the next, I was dreaming or something before waking up in my bed.”

Steven’s eyes widen, apparently realizing something. “Oh God, I didn’t just leave you there, did I?” he quickly asks, eyes searching yours.

“You didn’t,” you assure him. Even though Steven has the right to walk out on your arrangement anytime he wants, aside from your assumptions after the auction, he’s never shown any sign of wanting to do so. “You had me take you home, though. Do you remember that?”

Steven shakes his head. “When did that happen?”

The best place, you decide, is the beginning. Instead of guessing at what Steven doesn’t remember, you replay the whole night for him—even the parts he’s already mentioned himself.

“I thought you didn’t like being there. Maybe you were bored, or the crowd was too much for you. You got so quiet. And then you asked me to take you home.”

“I don’t…feel like myself.”

You weren’t sure what he meant at the time, but now it makes sense that that was when Steven’s memory started going blank.

“I don’t remember that,” Steven says softly. “Did something happen afterward? When did I leave?”

“Leave?” you repeat, slightly confused.

Steven continues, not hearing you. “Did I say where I was going? Or…or did I sleep in the spare room?”

That’s when you realize that Steven didn’t think of his apartment when you said you took him home. He thought you meant yours.

“Steven,” you say, interrupting him before he could keep trying to fill in the blanks himself. “I didn’t bring you back here. You had me take you to your apartment. Something about you needing to be there.”

Steven’s face scrunches up in confusion as if that course of action doesn’t make sense to him. He goes silent, and you let him think.

You want to ask about what he said that night, what it could have meant. What it was about himself he couldn’t tell you.

But you don’t. He didn’t want to talk about it then, and there’s a reason he wouldn’t know what you were talking about if you did.

An eerie feeling washes over you. At the time, you knew something was wrong, but looking back now and realizing that something inside Steven had changed, and he was no longer remembering what he was doing leaves you unsettled.

Whatever is happening to him, you need to help figure it out. The problem is, as far as any doctor could tell, it wasn’t anything physical, nothing that left an outward sign of its presence, leaving you at a loss.

“I followed you in,” you tell Steven, needing to say something about what happened in his apartment. “Pretty sure you didn’t want me to. You kind of…ran, but I needed to know you were okay.”

“Well, now I know something was definitely wrong with me. I would never run from you if I were in my right mind,”  Steven tries to joke, but it comes out weak, without much feeling behind it.

It’s nice to hear nonetheless, especially with how this whole ordeal had left you feeling.

“I didn’t stay long,” you continue, no longer meeting Steven’s eye and instead turning your attention to your still interlocked hands. “It didn’t seem like you wanted me there.”

It was Steven, yet not Steven, sitting awkwardly at the table as you made him tea. Though he didn’t seem to hate you, he was clearly uneasy with you being in his space. Your heart pangs in your chest.

Before you can stop yourself, before you can even think, words spill from your lips.

“And then you wouldn’t answer my calls. Now I know why, but I thought I had done something, and maybe you didn’t want me anymore.”

Steven’s breath catches.

No, no, no, you weren’t supposed to say it like that. You should have practiced the words beforehand.

You lo-like Steven, but your relationship doesn’t have room for that. You’re in this position specifically, so you don’t get caught up in feelings. You don’t want them. They’re messy and complicated and leave you hurt more often than not. You pay people to avoid feelings, and it’s always worked so well.

Until Steven.

It shouldn’t matter if he wants you, whatever that entails. As long as he’s happy to accept your money for his services, you should be content.

The last thing you want is to pressure Steven into anything, which means keeping any and all ill-advised emotions to yourself.

You don’t want this relationship to end; admitting anything is a surefire way of making that happen.

“I thought you didn’t want to be my baby anymore,” you correct. Your first admission is true, but it’s best if Steven thinks this is what you meant, and you can pretend it doesn’t sound just as desperate.

Steven squeezes your hand and doesn’t release the pressure, making you meet his gaze.

“When I woke up, I saw you had called,” he starts, his voice quiet, eyes intently looking into yours. “I was so scared, I didn’t listen to them. I just needed to call you. See you.” He takes a shaky breath. “And…I think I’ve known for a while, really, but I realized something just now.”

Your brow furrows, wondering what he’s thinking.

“I have…so much I still need to tell you, but I think I need to say this now.” He starts talking faster as if he thinks if he doesn’t get the words out quickly enough, they won’t come out at all. Then, in a rush, he says, “I don’t want to be your baby anymore.”

Your heart stops beating, and pain fills your chest.

“I’d rather be your boyfriend.”

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[mo0nfairy]

ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ UNCHAINED MELODY, PART TWO !

summary :: surviving raccoon city together, you catch the affections of leon kennedy, ada wong, jill valentine, and carlos oliveira. six years later, you reunite with them and realize their obsession with you has increased tenfold.

chapters :: the masterlist.

word count :: 5.8k

content warnings :: mdni! yandere!leon, yandere!ada, yandere!jill, yandere!carlos, sexual themes, stalking, gore, nightmares, weapons, breaking and entering, drugging/drug mentions, nudity, kidnapping, noncon touching, jill is a greasy rat basically lol.

jill valentine's yandere traits are . . .

possessive, dominant, & stalker

──── Jill Valentine hates the taste of coffee. Yet still, her kitchen cabinets are full of it.

Littered around her apartment, there are mugs stained with days-old coffee. The caffeinated scent clings to the walls and makes her stomach coil. A mess of documents sits on her cluttered desk. The October wind whistling through the window sends a few pieces fluttering down to the dirty floorboards. 3:57 AM is read on a digital clock in its neon red hues; the flickering lamp light on the desk illuminates the mess of broken pencils, coffee stains, and case files. With an accelerated heartbeat and heaving breaths, Jill hastily analyzes the CCTV footage on her jagged laptop.

Every person, every street sign, every single pixel on the screen. Maybe, just maybe, she'll find you among this mess.

Other tabs display missing persons' documents, reports from private investigators, and checkpoints on satellite imagery. Ms. 'I don't mind a little detective work' has spent every day of the past six years doing this exact thing. Weaving through any bit of information and manipulating every resource she could get her hands on. Everything she does is to try and find the one thing that matters more than anything to her.

Y/N L/N. The name she will never forget.

Jill remembers your sultry body, your delicious gratitude, your sweet blood staining her clothes; she will never forget how you sparked the beginning of her life in Raccoon City. She will always remember how she didn't know what emotion was until she met you and how Raccoon City was the best night of her life because of it. A raw flurry of fuzzy, warm feelings embraced her, as well as the cold fingertips of rage, envy, and fear. It was messy, but it was so, so beautiful.

There is nothing now.

Her worst fear had come alive. To continue to live every day just for the sake of living while desperately trying to fill the empty void within her — it had all come back in a flash. Just when she had wrapped her fingers around happiness, it was torn from her grasp like candy from a baby. And if you had asked where Jill thought she would be six years after that night, the image she would paint for you would be far more illuminative than the life she now lives. A rundown studio apartment infested with rats and cockroaches, but she'd be able to endure any germ-infested danger with the light of her life beside her. Every day would be spent deconstructing your facade and dissecting the beautiful person you are; every day would be spent dragging her fingertips along every inch of your body, blithely taking note of what makes you blush and squirm.

She would be happy. And you would be, too.

Jill is now stuck in a cave. Adorned in darkness and devoid of life. In a city she doesn't know, becoming a person she doesn't recognize — she can't fathom how disastrous her life had become since she lost you. She can't fathom the idea of you not being here with her, to begin with.

Skimming through the fatuous clues laid out before her, Jill takes a peek at the satellite imagery in one browser and something catches her eye. A habilitation, of some sort. Located in the middle of nowhere, overwhelmed with heaps of endless trees. She searches for any further information regarding this strange building, only to find there is no trace of this place even existing. It is certainly odd, yes, but does not relate to you in any shape or form. With that, she lets her curiosity go and occupies her time with more productivity.

Another hour drifts by. Waiting for a returning email from one of the numerous private investigators she hired, Jill reads through medical records in hopes of finding anything reminiscent of you. Maybe by some brush of luck, you'd still be treated for your broken arm six years later. However, this mysterious building still fogs up her mind. How could such a large structure be built with not a single trace existing? Surely, someone would have stumbled upon the property by now, right? Snuffing out her pride, Jill gathers the coordinates and sends them out to Tyrell. With his technology skills, he may be able to uncover something about the strange place. Even though Jill knows in her heart it's nothing but a dead end, it's still something, nonetheless. And after all this time of relentlessly doing the same thing over and over again, she has become desperate.

A sudden flare of lethargy envelops Jill. With her persistent intake of caffeine, this isn't anything abnormal. She's prone to just crashing at her bed, her desk, or sometimes, even onto the floor. With drooping eyelids, Jill folds her arms on the table and rests her head against them. There's no harm in a little shut-eye, right?

What she didn't expect is to be abruptly woken by a gentle tap on her shoulder. And she most certainly didn't expect to find you standing there beside her. Saccharine-sweet smile, skin clean of any zombie-induced grime — you're at her side wearing an old S.T.A.R.S. hoodie with your upper thigh peeking out of your sweatshorts (inevitably sending a flare of heat to Jill's core). In your hand is a cold beer, a prize for Jill after the hours of hard work she has endured at her desk. And she is just in pure awe at the sight of you. She discards the beverage in favor of pulling you into her lap. You swing your arms around her neck like a newlywed bride with that damned, heart-stuttering smile of yours growing from the sudden act of affection.

Jill's eyes peer down to your hips. Her rough fingers fidget with the elastic band of your shorts, subtly asking you to let her hands wander further. Her touch wanders beneath the hem of the ragged sweatshirt you were wearing. When her hand makes contact with the warm skin of your stomach, a gasp escapes her chest at the intimate contact. You gently place your soft hand atop hers, causing her vision to go hazy with clouds of lust, devotion, and rapture. You're here; you're alive. Her sweet, adoring, blue butterfly has returned to her and Jill can't handle the sheer euphoria that comes from the revelation.

It isn't until she feels your chest begin to stutter from silenced coughs does she finally return her focus to your face. Only to find your eyes had gone milky white, your skin growing purple in rotting hues, and decomposing gashes opening themselves all over your body as they gush out with puss. The wheezes protruding from you accelerate into harsh gags. A splurge of red-hot blood then spurts from your mouth and onto Jill. She has no time to revel in the burning fantasy of being covered in your bodily fluids, she can only stare in complete horror at what has befallen her beloved. You then push yourself off of Jill, to where you begin convulsing on the ground like a dying insect. It is horrifying. And to suddenly be without your touch after so long of hungrily basking in it — Jill hates to admit how badly it hurts her.

A sharp cry accompanied by a horrified gasp permeates the lonely air. Reality suddenly washes over her and Jill buries her face into her hands with a sigh of defeat. Another nightmare. Another fucking nightmare of millions. She should've known it'd be too good to be true; she should've known that a perfect life with you by her side was nothing more than a fantasy. And God, does it fucking kill her.

Stepping away from her disordered desk, she walks to the dresser sitting on the other side of the room. Jill digs through the unfolded mess of dirty laundry until she's finally able to dish out what she intended. The old S.T.A.R.S. sweatshirt you had worn in her dream. Despite the loose threads protruding from the hems and gaping holes littered against the fabric, you made it look like a piece of high fashion etched with velvet and silk. She wraps the article of clothing around her figure and snuggles into the article, pretending it's you she is holding in her arms. Jill then crouches down at the foot of her bed, plucking out a dilapidated shoe box from underneath. Inside is a singular item that has and always will remain the most important object Jill has ever possessed.

A bloodied bandage. Covered with dirt and riddled with age, this singular bandage was what she had taken from Kendo's first aid kit six years ago.

She remembers how your skin felt beneath her as she wrapped the bandage around you; she remembers how she slyly slipped the garment into her pocket when Carlos was caught up in tending to your broken arm. Jill presses the bandage to her cheek, pretending it's your comforting hand against her face instead of some tattered piece of gauze. If only she had known what the future had in store for her that night, she would have never let you step foot onto that train. Hell, she would have never let you step foot out of her sight ever again. Until the end of time, however, Jill will continue to search the world over and over again to find you. You are the only thing keeping her alive, after all.

The quick tune of an email alert brings Jill out of her lovesick, grief-burdened daze. She discards the precious cargo in her hands back to its home beneath her bed, then returns to her desk. In the three hours Jill had been knocked out cold, Tyrell had managed to bypass the security system that was "a bitch to get through" (his exact words). In the email, he provided several files that contain security system footage from cameras scattered around the area. Feverishly, Jill double-clicks the links and analyzes the pixelated footage. She knows what she is looking for, and despite the voice of logic on her shoulder whispering of what a waste of time this was, she still persevered.

A hallway filled with bustling doctors, a garden filled with meditating patients, and a cafeteria swarming with warm food and activity. Lastly, the final file shows a library. Unlike the others, the peaceful environment was scattered with little activity. The only form of life in the room was a few faces around who had their noses buried in books. A figure then ventures around the corner of a bookshelf, a stack of books held tight to their chest. Through the mess of pixels, a familiar face comes clear into frame.

You.

Something bright fills her chest. Hope, relief, elation. It bubbles in Jill's heart and paralyzes her entire body. The only thing she can do is stare at the screen with her jaw on the floor. You are her butterfly, beautiful and fleeting. She's been nothing but a worm trying to squirm its way through the soil and into the sky. Now, however, she can finally hold your hand in hers; she can finally fly with you at her side. Her teeth chatter behind her smile as she leans closer to the laptop, watching intensely. You merely bring the collage of books to a lone couch and flip open the page of a new book. Little do you know the sheer effect such a mild action would do to the woman you presumed to be dead. Her thumbs grasp the corners of the monitor, caressing the surface as if it were your skin beneath her.

"I found you... I found you...!" Tears seep from her eyes uncontrollably. Finally, this void within her is filled.

Pure laughter, a sound she hasn't expressed in years, bounces from her tongue with glee. It's as if a symphony of angels had invaded Jill's apartment, pervading the lonely silence with euphonious melodies. They sing and cheer for her success, promises of a new beginning filled with light and laughter tumbling from their lips. It appears as any other CCTV footage you'd see, but to Jill, she has never seen anything so breathtaking, so magnificent. Jill rewinds the footage for what may be the umpteenth time, just to ensure this wasn't another dream she'd inevitably wake up from. Fortunately, it is the truth. And she can't refrain the pure joy from escaping her body.

Despite her heart pulling at her strings in an attempt to give in to her desires, Jill knows she must learn more before she can finally get you back. As desperately as she wants to storm the place, guns-a-blazing and all, being messy with her efforts may send her back to square one. Alone, without the one she loves most. The thought itself sends a cold shudder down her spine. She pours herself another cup of coffee. This will be the last one, she guarantees. From thereon, Jill begins her research into this lion's den. Located directly in the middle of the woods, this mysterious habitat began its organization exactly six years ago. Mere months after the incident in Racoon City, to be precise. With a few more hours of digging, the truth practically slaps Jill across the face.

This "sanctuary" is just a facade for Umbrella.

Even after all these years, that damned corporation still has its bloodied claws sunk into every fraction of Jill's life. They had been keeping survivors of their personalized epidemic safe in this establishment, under the guise of 'healing them through these tough times.' In reality, it was to ensure they kept their mouths shut and Umbrella's mistake could be safely swept under the rug. Seething with rage, Jill asks herself: why not me? Why am I the only exception? The last thing she could ever want is to be held captive by Umbrella of all people, but to be locked up with you? That's a different story.

It doesn't take long for Jill to connect the dots. Her occupation gave her that extra layer of protection against Umbrella. So, she remains untouched. However, with your job as a cashier at a gas station, you weren't as fortunate as Jill. Otherwise, you and she would have spent every day of these past six years at each other's side in euphoric harmony. Jill is sure of it.

The sun begins to set after a long, exasperated day of breaking the immeasurable walls Umbrella had built to protect their precious organization. Jill, heavy-eyed and exhausted, has finally concluded the great mystery that is your disappearance. She takes every penny of her rent money and urgently gives it all to Tyrell in exchange for more security footage. When asked about her desperate efforts, Jill makes the excuse that it is the location of a potential crime scene. And in a way, she isn't wrong. It is about to be.

With footage from every camera of the past month (as well as some good spank bank material for later on), Jill has a firm layout of every nook and cranny within the building. She fawns over the videos of you meditating in the garden and reading the hours away in the library. She also tenses up with jealousy over the clips of you laughing with your friends in the cafeteria and bonding over shared experiences in group therapy. It should be her you're doing all these things with. With a pout, Jill then plans her route on retrieving you. Although she has enough anger within her to tear the entire premise asunder, she is humble enough to recognize the extensive security is out of her element. After hours upon hours of trying to find the best way to carry out her plan, Jill accepts defeat.

As much as she wants to, she cannot do this alone. So, she contacts an old friend.

A simple email that reads "I found them" and Carlos Oliveira is at the door of her apartment within hours. His face sheen with sweat, hands trembling at his side, eyes blown wide in crazed worry. God, it's almost like he ran the entire way here. It isn't until Jill sees his face does the all-too-overwhelming revelation settle. It's time to finally get you back.

Deep in the middle of the woods, Jill and Carlos have nothing but the brimming sunset and heavy-duty flashlights to illuminate their path. A maze of trees and tight security kept the establishment well hidden from any wandering eyes. With swift movements from the two military-trained individuals, they were able to pass all barricades with ease. Out of sight from any cameras and wandering security guards, Jill and Carlos soon make it to a single window that has been left slightly ajar. It was your attempt at enjoying the last gusts of seasonal warmth before Winter arrives. A tame smile forms on their faces at the prospect. You'll be able to enjoy every season forevermore with them at your side. Whether it is your skin glowing beneath the warm haze of summer's heat or cozying up with the other during the harsh chills of Winter. They'll make sure everything is perfect. Just for you.

An ear-piercing screech pervades the late October air as Jill pries the window open. They cringe, wait for the other shoe to fall and bring this plan to its fateful end. But, there is nothing. No blaring alarms there to jeopardize their schemes, no wonderful, perfect you there to run into the arms of your surprise guests and drown them in kisses. Nothing. Continuing attentively, the two manage to slip through the window, where they then find themselves in your bathroom.

Jill and Carlos become entranced with the mere sight of your bathroom and the utilities within. Rested by the sink is your toothbrush, sat beside a tube of toothpaste and accompanied by a clutter of skincare products. Jill shakily brings the brush into her hands, fingers hovering over the bristles with belated breath. Your teeth, your tongue, your spit. Your mouth has been on this item and Jill salivates from the idea alone. Before she can quaff out every bit of you she can garner from the toothbrush, she snaps out of her fantasy and shoves the brush into her pocket. For later use, she assures.

Carlos, however, is trapped tight in his own daze. By the shower, a cluster of damp towels had been leisurely swung upon a towel rack. He takes one into his hands, shivering at the idea of this cloth once making contact with your nude body. Squeezing, the water that seeps from the tight contact and down his fingers causes a pool of vehemence to form within him. Lips trembling in response, Carlos then brings the towel to his face. His warm breath wafted back onto his face as he heavily inhaled the scent still lingering upon the fabric. Oh, Y/N, how he worships you. Carlos imagines how your scent would sit in your body while he drags his lips among the skin of your chest, your stomach, your thighs, and then your-

A harsh smack to his arm brings his thoughts to an abrupt, depressing halt. Just when he was about to indulge his tongue in the taste of what was once on your wet body, Jill had to go and ruin his fun.

The dulcet tune of humming diffuses through the area like a soft fragrance. Whatever libido-stained hysteria these lovesick fools had found themselves in faded away as quickly as it came. Jill feels her heart bloom like a spring flower — your voice. One of your most important attributes her deadbeat brain had so frivolously forgotten. It has finally returned to her. And the way you fill the air with such heavenly sounds is something straight out of a fairytale, the two think to themselves. Like a siren, leading the people who love you more than anything to their inevitable demise. And if they're being honest, the sight of you after six years without you may kill them with its sheer force.

In a way, they were correct. Jill takes a step out of the bathroom and into your kitchen, peering around the corner of a wall to find you on a couch. Your back to her, headphones nestled on your head and book held tight in your hands. Nothing could have prepared her for such a heartwarming, yet gut-wrenching sight. Nodding your head to the tunes blasting in your ears, foot tapping in rhythm against the floor. God, how much more beautiful could you get? How much more can you do to Jill and her sanity by simply existing?

With a deep, shaky inhale, Jill continues with the plan at hand. She tiptoes past the threshold of your living room and ventures further into the kitchen. With gentle, yet expeditious movements, she opens every cabinet and searches through for anything of importance. On the very edge by the stove, Jill opens the cabinet door and finds shelves full of jumbled mugs and different tea flavors. Taking a paranoid glance behind her, she finds Carlos peering around the same corner she had stood behind moments before. And the man is just relishing in the pure sight of you. His eyes drooping and coated in a dreamy luster; his mouth hung agape with the corners curling into a weakened smile. She'd say how pathetic he looked if it weren't for the fact she was in his exact state just seconds ago. With a roll of her eyes, Jill returns to her work in your kitchen.

How clueless you are to what is happening just over your shoulder. Who knew that you catching up on some late-afternoon reading could conjure up such staggering emotions within Jill and Carlos? And who knew that the two people you presumed to be dead had crushed up sedatives and hid them in your teabags?

Mere minutes go by as the two reside in your bathroom, waiting for you to unintentionally complete the next part of their plan. The creaking sound of a door opening halts their enthusiastic exploration of your bathroom. A voice, one that certainly does not belong to you, pervades the air of your home. Apparently, you and this stranger have some plans to go stargazing? Jill and Carlos give a confused, knowing look to each other. Who the fuck is this? Jill buries her unkempt fingernails into the palm of her hand. Clenching her fists inevitably causes moon-shaped scars to form. They're mine, they're mine, they're mine. Her nails soon break through the skin, to where blood oozes into her hands. It seeps down her wrists and onto the white tiles beneath her boots. The faint drum of your footsteps prevents her from acknowledging how she has left a trace of her behind.

Through the crack of the door, Jill finds you entering the kitchen with a thick blanket draped upon your shoulders. Like clockwork, you tread to the cabinet at the far end of the room and begin to make yourself a cup of tea. For the second time that day, Jill gives a harsh smack to Carlos' arm to stop him from inhaling your towels like a depraved junkie and pay attention. The two now watch in trepidation and enthrallment as you go about your nightly routine. Sitting at your rickety kitchen table, watching the kettle steam upon the stove, strolling down memory lane. How can you be so perfect in such simplistic ways? 

You inadvertently shape your future by placing the tea bag into the messily painted mug made for you by one of the younglings who survived Raccoon City. A fond smile grows at the thought of them while you pour out the boiling water. You have absolutely no clue what is in store for you by doing this. And to the people standing in your bathroom, it is so endearing.

Taking a small sip as you walk back to the table, a sudden wave of fatigue crashes over you. Your vision doubles, overlapping every perceivable object in front of you into a blurry, distorted mess. The mug falls from your weak hands. It shatters against the floor and the sound reverberates like a blaring alarm. You hear muffled voices, a sharp ringing, and your own panicked breathing. What the fuck is going on? Once your vision goes black, you can barely feel how your numb body splats against the ground. Your hyperventilated gasps decelerate into tame breaths when oblivion finally welcomes you.

The only thing you can do is lay here and hope that when you wake up, whatever welcomes you isn't anything reminiscent of the nightmare you faced six years ago. You hope so.

There are black holes in your memory. Collapsing in your kitchen to being nestled in the backseat of a car. Trying to piece together this puzzle was nothing short of a pipe dream. When you wake, however, you find yourself enveloped in a strange sense of warmth. The senses in your body awaken from your head and travel down to your toes. Almost as if it was rain cascading down a window; as if it was a teardrop coursing down your cheek. From your waist down, you can feel how your nude body is submerged in warm water. You inhale and are overwhelmed by the stench of body soap that perfumes the humid air. Candle lights flicker in their calm hues and bounce against your closed eyelids.

In an attempt to thrash around and escape whatever has taken you from the safety of the sanctuary, your body fails you in your attempts to move. You are completely and utterly paralyzed, much to your dismay. The only control you can accumulate is nothing but a choked whimper that you push out of your throat. The immediate cooing that purrs into your ear from someone behind you causes your blood to run cold. You then sense how your back is pressed against someone's naked chest. The strands of their choppy short hair stick to your sweaty face. Hot breath fans against you as they press long, gentle kisses to your neck.

A bathtub. That's where you have found yourself in. It is romantic, in a disturbing sense. You could almost be convinced this was nothing more than a fulfilling Valentine's Day. A pair of scrawny arms then tighten themselves around your form with possessive constriction. Their chapped lips trail down to your shoulder; their wet tongue adorns the expanse in an array of affection. The intimacy sends a shudder down your skin. Calloused hands grope your chest and indulge themselves in the feeling of your flesh touching theirs, seemingly drunk off of you. The graze of their jagged teeth against you causes a gasp to escape you. A hum of quiet laughter vibrates in the chest of your assailant in response.

"My butterfly, you have no idea how long I have dreamed about this..." The soft tone of their voice lulls you back to sleep. This is getting old, you think once more before unconsciousness envelops you once again.

Jill simply cannot believe it. At this moment, you are here, alone with her. She couldn't imagine a better fantasy if she tried. And in a way, the effect your mere touch has on her made all six years of suffering worth it. Only now, she can scrutinize you completely and thoroughly. As opposed to the zombie-induced nightmare being the only contact she had with you. And your physicality has haunted Jill. She traces the jut of your cheekbone, the curl of your lashes, the texture of your lips. More importantly, she indulges her greedy taste buds in the taste of your mouth-watering skin, your delicious sweat, and your candy-sweet saliva. 

Your flavor — never has Jill known she could be transported to such paradisiacal heaven. And never has Jill known she could ever be so... vulnerable.

Vulnerability has always equated to weakness in the eyes of Jill for as long as she's been alive. Trying to swallow the lump in her throat and constrict the overflow of bottled emotions these past six years are certainly no strangers to her. Raccoon City, however, opened the floodgates to a tsunami of revelations. To bask in emotion, to revel in you. Most importantly, to feel you here with her right at this moment. She can discard the facade of a cold heart and thick skin, to where she can embrace the exhilaration that follows with your presence. There will never be a second where Jill isn't thanking the universe profusely for such a wondrous gift.

As much as she disdains the idea of breaking contact with you, the hour spent in such stifling heat would not be good for you. And the prospect of your deteriorating health causes her to persevere through her selfish desires. This doesn't refrain her from being a little too touchy while drying off your body, though. Jill then dresses your unconscious form in a fresh, newly bought pair of fuzzy pajamas (despite the incessant suggestions from Carlos to please have you wear his clothes). The sensation feels like a cloud against your skin that had just been massaged with warm water, loving hands, and ambrosial lotions. So cozy, so cuddly.

With easy effort, Jill nestles you into bed. The late-night brume and heavy rain complement the tranquility within the room, naturally soothing you into a deeper sleep. She then presses a long, sweet kiss to your forehead, whispering a promise of returning soon.

Her gaze and her hand linger on you before returning to the bathroom. While you are now sleeping, Jill sits on the tiled floor of the bathroom and rests her arms against the rim of the tub. Her fingers cascade among the still-wet walls of the tub, shivering over the prospect of your naked self touching the surface just moments before. She takes her index and middle finger into her mouth, lapping her tongue around the digits and cleaning them of any excess of you still left on them. The other hand is used to caress the parts of the bathtub you had sat in before as if she were touching you. And it is just heavenly. Having you beneath her, her tongue tasting every inch of you, all the sounds you would gift her in return. It practically makes her feral with desire.

Shakily sinking her hands into the lukewarm water, it pools in her hands before escaping through the slits of her fingers. Mouth agape, skin gleaming with sweat — the only thing present in Jill's mind is how your flavor has mended with the bathwater. With rapid movements, she scoops some of the water into her palm and slurps the liquid with fervent haste. Six years of her lust-ridden head overcome with these fantasies, Jill has finally come one step closer to turning this dream into a reality. Her eyes fall shut and she lets the reverie flood her body. Wrapping her lips around your sex and adorning it in a mess of her saliva and your essence; every whimper and moan that escapes your mouth making her slick with arousal. After turning your brain into mush, she would then wrap you in her embrace and soothe you to sleep, still preserving the taste of you on her tongue.

Oh, one day. One day...

Birds singing, rain dancing. Once again, it is the first thing you are able to scrutinize once you come out of your state of comatose. The sun has now risen, hidden beneath an array of stormy clouds. Daylight bleeds into the room you have awoken in. A bedroom, as it appears; you are in a bedroom you are oblivious to the location of. With its pristine environment, expensive comforters, healthy plants, and modern decoration scattered around, you can't help but be astonished at how gorgeous it is. A window takes up the entirety of two walls, displaying nothing but miles upon miles of endless forestry. You would assume this was a gorgeous retreat if not for the confusion staining your mind. Have I been kidnapped? The thought bounces back and forth in your brain like a ping-pong ball.

Your original idea of being held captive consists of a dank basement, restraints around your limbs, and a lone mattress on the dirty ground. If you had been kidnapped, it would be nothing as luxurious as this, surely. Had the sanctuary brought you to a new location? Had your friends taken you on some sort of a surprise vacation? What the fuck is going on here!? Trying to venture down memory lane to find out how on Earth you have ended up here, your efforts are unfortunately brought to no avail. All you had done was drink some tea and somehow in the span of twelve hours, it had led you here. The only thing you can do now, however, is find some answers.

Wobbling like a newborn fawn on legs, you try and catch your balance after you attempt to stand. A door stands to the right of you, which you stumble to. Using every fiber of strength in your exhausted body, you try and turn the doorknob. The wall is there to catch you when your body then gives up on you. With a few deep breaths upon collapsing, you fight to regain consciousness and continue to tread forward. You would not let yourself pass out again, you're determined of such.

Upon opening the door, a hallway presents itself to you. The scent of something cooking pervades the air. You only realize you had skipped dinner the previous night when the aroma of natural spices and flavors makes your mouth water. You hear the clanking of pots and pans, as well as the murmur of two strangely-familiar voices. The decorations in the hallway also grasp your attention as you stroll through, tip-toeing past any squeaky floorboards. Numerous other plants sit around the area and picture frames are placed neatly on the walls. The frames are all empty, ready to be filled. It causes a strange chill to course through your body. However, the only thing you should be concerned with right now is receiving some answers. As worrying as it is, the prospect of your kidnapper potentially filling these frames with new pictures of you is irrelevant right now.

Treading forward, you then find yourself on the threshold of the kitchen. And what you find within makes your heart sink to the pit of your stomach.

You catch sight of no other than Jill Valentine and Carlos Oliveira. At the breakfast bar is Jill, whose legs are crossed and resting upon the surface of the counter. Carlos stands by the stove, stirring something delicious in the pan before him. The conversation between them is cut short upon your entrance and the three of you all stare at each other like a group of deer in headlights. Silence sits like a thick stew.

You're the first to break through the quiet.

"What the fuck?"

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 ۫ you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

THE BONUS TRACK !

❝ RECURRING VISIONS

OF SUCH SWEET DAYS . . . ❞

for anyone wondering, this, this, this, this, and this are what i imagined jill and carlos' house to look like. also, i will delve into characters and whatnot in further chapters. so dw!! and thank u!

[rendy-a]

hello if u dont mind, may I request your newest post with the rumored ramshackle girl with jade, azul and floyd please?

In case you are new to these prompts, this is a series where the students of NRC suspect the Prefect of Ramshackle might be a girl and are terribly interested in confirming if this is true. In the interest of keeping my writing gender neutral, the results of this investigation are always left up to the reader.

The bootcamp Azul, Jade and Floyd had attended before coming to the surface had covered many things about surface dwellers and their lives but some things remained a mystery.  “So, tell me again why I can’t just ask the Prefect to see their little leg?” Floyd asks in an annoyed voice.  Azul sighs deeply, the conversation having gone on for quite a while, “Firstly, that’s not a leg and secondly, it just isn’t done on the surface!”  Floyd gnashes his sharp teeth in frustration.  “My, my,” Jade coos, “What an unfortunate mystery.”  Azul scowls over at Jade, “This isn’t helping anyone.  We need to sit and think about this rationally.” 

Floyd continues to mutter discontentedly but does move over to one of the sofa’s that flank Azul’s desk in the private back office of Mostro Lounge and takes a seat.  Jade slides to sit across from him in his signature gentlemanly manner.  The brusque air in which Azul plops down in his chair is testament to how preoccupied his thoughts are; even his suave persona is showing cracks.  He gathers up some pages of notes, trying to sort them before giving up and tossing the messy pile next to a stack of books.  Jade eyes the titles and smiles amused at the confused collection including such things as “What Women Want” and “How to Land Your Hunk in 10 Easy Steps.”  Azul notices Jade’s attention and quickly slides the stack of books into a desk drawer while flushing deeply. 

“Ah hem,” he clears his throat, “Sometimes even well thought out plans need to be adapted and changed.”  He looks slowly down at the stack of discarded notes, “And then changed again and again,” he softly mutters.  Jade smiles widely at Azul’s agitation.  “Ah hem,” Azul clears his throat to prepare to steer the conversation, “Now, what we need to discuss is how we are going to solve this little mystery.”  Floyd takes in a big breath and Azul quickly adds, “In a way approved by surface dwellers!”  Floyd frowns and mutters, “This blows.  Why do humans make everything so complicated?”  Jade places his gloved hand over his heart and commiserates with his sibling, “Why yes, it is a shame the Prefect isn’t attending school under the sea with us.  Things are so much straightforward with mer.”

Jade likely hadn’t intended to be helpful, as he was so enjoying the distress of his companions, and yet his comment caused Azul to take a long pause.  “Under the sea…” the pensive dorm leader trails off.  Jade narrows his eyes a bit, considering Azul.  Then he ventures a snide comment, “You aren’t planning to ask the Prefect to show you their tail fin, are you?  Because I’d certainly enjoy watching that conversation.”  Floyd shares a chuckle with his twin.  Azul glares at the duo before sitting back and steepling his hands, “Well, maybe I will.”  Floyd’s expression immediately changes into a scowl, “I thought we couldn’t ask the Prefect to show us their little leg!”  Azul’s brow knits tightly as he glares at Floyd again before he lets out a long-suffering sigh and lets it go.  “Come here boys, I’ve got a plan.”

The Prefect of Ramshackle dorm follows Jade eagerly down the glass hallway leading toward Octavinelle.  “Are you sure there isn’t some sort of contract waiting for me?” you ask again.  Jade smiles at you, appearing to be amused rather than annoyed at your repeated question, “I assure you, Prefect, that this outing is entirely for our benefit.  In fact, it is you doing us a favor and not the other way around.”  You can’t help but maintain your suspicion, “Maybe I should be negotiating for something more then.  Get the most out of this deal while Azul is being so generous.”  Jade bows apologetically, “I’m afraid, Prefect, that the potion we’re providing you complementary is the extent of our benevolence today.”  You follow silently for a moment before you can’t help but interject, “But it’s free, right?” 

Instead of answering you, Jade sweeps open a door and gestures for you to proceed him.  You’ve arrived at Octavinelle.  You always feel a certain way when you cross the threshold of this dorm.  It’s like a certain sense of foreboding that warns you that dangerous creatures lurk in the dark of the deep ocean.  As usual, you push down any minor unpleasantness and follow your eel guide deeper into the lair of your host. 

When you arrive at the lounge, Floyd catches sight of you first and bounds to his feet.  “Shrimpy, you’re here!”  Then he uses his unusual strength to swing you off your feet as you chide him to set you down.  He is in an exceptionally good mood today, for which you are grateful.  You wouldn’t want to set out on such an undertaking with Floyd in a bad mood.  “Give our guest some space, Floyd,” Azul admonishes gently, “You’ll have to forgive him.  We are all very excited for the outcome of today’s experiment.” 

This reminds you of your unusual task today.  Azul had explained it as an exercise in advanced potion making.  He was tweaking a transformation potion to not only allow for a human-to-mer transformation but one that also let the potion maker control the type of mer they transformed into.  Azul had lamented that he was unable to get the assistance of Jade and Floyd or take it himself, “For you see, Prefect, the results would be inconclusive as we are already mer.”  While that did seem to make sense, you’d long since developed a healthy amount of caution with anything the trio was tied to.  You’d have steered clear of Azul’s scheme entirely if it wasn’t for the alure of transforming into a mer.  That was an experience you just couldn’t resist.

You gaze at Azul cautiously and hesitantly ask, “So what sort of mer do you have planned for me?  It’s not something crazy like a whale or shrimp, right?”  Floyd smiles when you mention ‘shrimp’ but says nothing.  Instead, Azul sweeps in with his businessman persona to finish ‘selling’ you on the experiment.  “Of course not, Prefect!” he soothingly says as he dramatically gestures, “I assure you that we’ve chosen something simple for you.  This is just a first experiment, after all.  We didn’t plan on going into elaborate trials yet.”  You deadpan, “Just tell me.”  Jade chuckles at your reply and steps in, “It’s a Koi fish.  Nothing to be alarmed at, I assure you.”  Well…that actually sounded fine.  It was at least a fish you’d heard of, and you couldn’t really think of any objections to it.  “Once I’m transformed, you aren’t going to do anything funny to me.”  Floyd, bored with waiting, jumps in, “Come on Shrimpy, we just wanna see your tail and then we are good.”  Then he leans in toward you, “After that, I’ll take ya swimming.  Show you around the reef.” 

Honestly, it sounded like a rare experience, and you couldn’t help but be excited.  So, you ignored any last lingering doubts and held out your hand for the potion.  Jade sets the potion in your waiting hand, and you hold eye contact as you uncork the potion and throw it down your throat.  The initial taste was vile, but it had a slight fruity aftertaste which suggests Azul had at least attempted to soften the flavor for you.  You wondered at the consideration and the associated implications before feeling a twist in the pit of your stomach.  “Where is the pool?” you demand as you feel the urgent need to be in the water.  Floyd grabs your hand and pulls you along after him before pushing you into a room and closing the door behind you.  “Go on Shrimpy,” you hear him call out with a laughing voice from beyond the door, “we’ll catch up to you after.” 

You feel the beginning of a shift and quickly remove your clothing, not even bothering to fold it nicely and hastily dive into the pool.  There is an immediate sense of relief as the sea water fills your emerging gills and you marvel at the gold, white and black speckled tail emerging from your bottom half.  You arranged some shell adorned clothing you’d brought with you to cover your top in what you hoped was a cool mer-inspired fashion and decided you were ready to exit to the reef beyond.

Two shadows pass overtop of you and you startle and look around for the source.  You fail to control your surprise as a long tail wraps around your new tail and another around your arm.  You struggle for a moment before realizing this is what they want and let yourself go slack.  Jade chuckles and Floyd huffs before they release you and allow you to spin yourself around and look into their too smug faces.  “Why Prefect, how koi of you,” Jade drawls in amusement.  It takes you a moment to understand his pun and ask, “Was that what this was for?  So you could make fish puns.”  Floyd scoffs, “Nah, these days Jade is only into mushroom puns.”  You roll your eyes, “Sorry for missing the perk of it then.”  Jade and Floyd share a look, “This variety just has many hidden benefits.”  You peer at them suspiciously, “Like what?”

When neither of them answers beyond an ominous sounding chuckle, you ask again in a panic, “Like what!”  They have no time to answer as, with a sudden yelp, they are yanked from your side by a pair of dark tentacles.  “Jade, Floyd,” drawls Azul, “You are being rude to our special guest.”  Then he slowly slides to your side as you attempt to not stare at his octo-mer form.  One sleek tentacle rises and taps one of the shells you decorated yourself with.  You fluster, noticing none of the others had chosen to wear anything decorative like this.  “I thought it was a nice touch,” you mutter embarrassed.  “Why yes,” Azul quietly replies, “it does suit you quite well.”  His compliment relatives some of your tension, “Does it look strange?”  Now it was Azul’s turn to fluster.  After several false starts, he finally squeezes out a response, “I see you are the traditional sort.” 

You looked at him questioningly and Jade sweeps in to alleviate your confusion, “Shells.  Both the Mermaid Princess and the benevolent Sea Witch were said to have worn shell accessories.  You look like quite the proper mer.”  Perhaps it was the smile or the fact that you now felt like a very fashionable mer indeed, but you didn’t question them further when Azul instructs Jade and Floyd to take some measurements of your tail.   You watch them span a measuring tape around several areas of your tail to take its width.  They also appeared to have great interest in the degree of transparency of your fins. 

With each item Azul added to his notebook, he muttered, “I see, I see.”  You curiously asked, “Are these the results you were hoping for?”  He meets your eye and softly replies, “I’d have been happy either way.  It’s the knowing that is important.  You can’t plan without knowing.”  You look over to Floyd and ask, “Plan what?”  Floyd gives you a little giggle and reaches out to seize your hand, “Hey Shrimpy, this is getting boring.  What do you say we have ourselves a race?”  You privately agree that this was dragging on, so you give Azul a look as though to ask if you were free to go.  He sighs and gives you a nod. 

You give Floyd’s hand a shake in response and shout, “Alright!  Let’s give this tail a real trial now!”  Then you kick off and shout, “First one to that coral formation is a cuttlefish!”  Floyd laughs manically as he shoots after you.  Jade gives Azul a measuring glance and they share a knowing smile before he follows along, observing at a distance.  Azul makes no effort to follow and instead turns his attentions to his notebook and plans.  You spent the rest of the time your potion lasts happily swimming about the reef, blissfully unaware that three predators had firmly set their sights on you.  And, now that their little mystery was cleared up, there was nothing standing in the way of their schemes.

[fandomskipping]

Tw: stepcest, obsessive behavior, stalking, breaking and entering, masturbation, subish!/masochist!Gojo

Stepbro!Gojo who wanted nothing to do with you, but became obsessed with you in just a matter of weeks.

Stepbro!Gojo who saw you at the compulsory weekly family dinners and made a point of ignoring you, only to arrive home later into the evening and stalk you on social media for hours.

It was stupid really, how he, a successful businessman that was well into his 20s, pretended that he's above fraternizing with a mere college student, but then paid a private investigator to follow you around when the feeds on your social media didn't provide enough information anymore.

He told himself that it was for your safety, but he was well aware that he was doing it mostly because he wanted to see if you got yourself a lover.

Stepbro!Gojo who bribed your dorm's admin to give him a copy of your room's key just so he could slip into your private quarters and rummage through your stuff.

Stepbro!Gojo who found the hamper filled with your dirty clothes and quickly dug his lanky arm right in, pulling piles of clothes out and dropping them on the floor at his feet.

He tried lying to himself again, thinking that he did this just so he could get a better grasp of what you usually wore to class (as if he didn't have a binder-worth of pictures his PI took of you these last few weeks). But the moment he saw your panties, he quickly dropped the act and lunged after them, pulling them out of the pile and holding them in front of his face so he could better analyze them.

Nude in color and plain cotton. He frowned and he moved the clothes around with his foot, trying to see if there was anything else. Maybe something a bit cuter? Something with lace and silk, perhaps? He found nothing of that sort. No embellishments, no little gems sewed into the material, no cute colors.

Stepbro!Gojo promised to buy you cuter lingerie once you would be living with him, but for now, the ones he found would do.

He bunched the panties in his hand and shrugged his coat off his muscular shoulders, allowing it to fall on top of your dirty clothes.

Unbuckling his belt, he fell on your bed and stretched his legs. He brought the panties to his face and inhaled deeply, his white lashes fluttering at the intense musky smell.

His cock started filling into his boxers and Gojo quickly shimmied out of his slacks and underwear. With one hand he grabbed his cock, and with a few expert tugs, it was standing fully erect, beads of precum already emerging out of the bulbous tip.

With another whiff, Gojo started working his cock, using his pre as lube.

It was embarrassing what he was doing—jerking off in a college dorm using his stepsister's used panties as wank material—but he couldn't help it.

He wanted to see you—no, he needed to see you. With a shaky hand he dropped the panties on his chest and grabbed his phone, going straight to the gallery he dedicated to you. He scrolled through the pictures while his hand moved faster on his cock—he wouldn't last long, he knew it.

He found a picture he especially liked and propped his phone on one of your pillows, so he could grab the panties again. Feeling around for the stained gusset, Gojo gave it a lick, his eyes crossing at your strong taste.

"Fuck," he whimpered, pulling at his cock furiously. His blue eyes found your picture and he imagined you were actually there, watching him closely, telling him he's a disgusting perverted pig for lusting over his stepsister.

Gojo threw his head back and came at the thought of your insults, his dick trembling in his pale hand as shot after shot of cum hit the white shirt he should have taken off.

His body relaxed and slumped into the bed as he caught his breath.

Stepbro!Gojo promised himself that this would be the first and last time he does this, but who is he kidding? He started coming back to the dorm every Tuesday afternoon, knowing you'd be in class.

And when that's no longer enough, Stepbro!Gojo convinced your mom that it would be so much better, so much safer, if you'd move in with him.

[treason-and-plot]

“What?” says Roy. He shakes his head in an effort to wake up his brain, which seems to be suffering from momentary paralysis. He is on the one hand delighted that Michael is in deep shit, but he is also dismayed that Anya is so upset. It hurts his heart to hear her cry. But his dismay is exacerbated by the fact that she had such a strong reaction to the revelation- she’s acting as if her father had been caught having an affair. Which obviously isn’t the case.

“How did your mother find out?” he asks Anya, deciding to reserve sharing any of his personal thoughts about Michael’s indiscretions, at least for the moment. Anya puts the phone down to blow her nose. She takes a few deep breaths. When she speaks again her voice is a little less wobbly.

“The bank rang her about an unusual transaction on their joint credit card and she asked them to email her a statement. Dad looks after all the bills including the payment of their credit card and normally she never gets to see any bills or statements. The unusual transaction just turned out to be my sister borrowing the card to buy §300 worth of Simmora makeup, but Mum went through the rest of the transactions and she noticed that every week there was a charge of §200 billed to a company called-“

“Active Advisory Pty Ltd,” Roy’s brain whispers to itself.

“Active Advisory Pty Ltd,” Anya says. “Which sounds like a financial services company or something, right? Which Mum thought was really bizarre. So she did some investigating and found out it’s actually the company name of the owners of a strip club called The Pink Pony. So Mum confronted Dad about it and he admitted he’s been going there every week for the past year! And spending §200 on private sessions!”

“Well, shit,” says Roy. “That’s…that’s a lot of visits.”

“Mum’s devastated!” says Anya. “I am too! I can’t believe Dad would cheat on Mum like that! It’s just made me question everything I thought was real.”

“Technically, is it really cheating, though?” says Roy.

“How can you say that!” gasps Anya. “Of course it’s cheating!”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I’m just trying to wrap my head around everything,” says Roy quickly. “And hey, what about your sister stealing the card to spend §300 on makeup? That’s terrible!”

“Roy, I don’t think you understand. My parents are probably on the verge of divorce over this! My mother hasn’t stopped crying since my Dad confessed and she’s talking about going to stay with her sister in Barnacle Bay! The last thing they’re concerned about is Eva blowing money on make up!”

“Well, maybe they should be at least a little bit concerned,” says Roy. “Just saying. But, ah, okay, obviously the other stuff is a bit more concerning. Particularly the amount of money he’s been spending-“

“The money isn’t the issue here, Roy!” says Anya. “You just don’t seem to be getting it! My Dad has been visiting prostitutes! Sex workers! I can barely think of a worse betrayal! P….poor Mum….” 

 She starts sobbing again.

[thebisexualdogdad]

With the new rookie season you gotta do more Lucy!!!

Maybe something like Lucy meets a PI who’s working a similar case as her and the two slowly flirt and nerd out on common interests.

Lucy Chen x Male!reader

● as a private investigator you were hired to follow a man who's wife was accusing him of cheating

● lucky for her he wasn't cheating, unluckily for her he became entangled with a gang selling drugs and now he's missing

● which is how you meet officer Lucy Chen

● “Excuse me? What do you think you're doing? This is a crime scene you can't be here,” she questions as you're looking at the faces of a bunch of newly deceased individuals after a drug deal gone wrong trying to ID your clients husband

● “I'm a private investigator, Y/N Y/L/N, I've been hired by Mary Jameson to track down her husband Luke Jameson who is involved with all this”

● “do you see him here?”

● “no but-”

● “then I'm gonna have to ask you to leave”

● you don't actually leave, you just hang around outside the crime scene tape waiting to get any more information on where you're missing guy might be

● “he's still here?” Harper asks Lucy who has been keeping an eye on you for the last several hours

● “yeah he thinks I'm gonna tell him details about the case because he's a PI”

● “PI's are the worst,” Lopez chimes in

● “I thought lawyers were the worst?”

● “they are but I'm not married to a PI,” she laughs, “he says he's looking for a guy who deals for this gang right? Lucy take him to the station and find out everything he knows, he may actually be useful in helping us fill in some missing pieces”

● back at the station Lucy has you in an interrogation room, questioning you about Luke

● you tell her you've been tailing him for three weeks, he went missing two days ago handing over the photos you have of him dealing drugs as well as meeting up with the leader of the gang

● you actually were quite helpful for Lucy

● and even a little bit flirty

● and to your surprise Lucy was flirting back

● you find out you like the same TV shows and music artists

● you spend a little too long talking about the latest season of your favorite show

● but just as you're about to ask her on a date to get to know her more Lopez and Harper interrupt bringing your attention back to the case at hand

● Lucy relays all the information to them and thanks you for the help

● and after you leave Lopez asks her, “were you flirting with the PI?”

● “no of course not that would be unprofessional”

● Lopez and Harper simultaneously “they were flirting”

● you show up at the station again the next morning with coffee and breakfast sandwiches to see if they have any new leads on Luke

● “you brought me coffee?”

● “with almond milk and a shot of espresso”

● “how did you know that's how I drink my coffee?”

● “I'm a private investigator remember, it's my job to know those kind of things”

● you and Lucy end up working together to find out that Luke is being held captive by a rival gang

● the cops raid the warehouse and free him though he is arrested in the process due to your photos of him dealing drugs which his wife is certainly not going to be happy about

● “Guess this is the end of our team up,” Lucy tells you when she returns to the station with another officer towing behind with Luke in handcuffs

● “Seems so but it doesn't mean it has to be the last time we see each other right? Can I take you out to dinner sometime?”

● “yeah, that would be nice”

● “great, I'll get us a reservation at the blue orchid”

● “that's my favorite restaurant how did you- oh right private investigator,” she laughs

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Office Space 6

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you’re an assistant to private and corporate investigator, Nick Fowler, and find yourself brought into the fold of his shady professional life. 

Characters: Nick Fowler, Jonathan Pine, this reader is known as Elfie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

Dinner is spent in a similarly contentious spar of words. You're so over it that you find yourself zoning out in favour of your plate. The steak is good. Better than anything you'd spend money on. 

As you chew on a morsel, the server returns and Nick gestures, "another round." 

Before you can stop him, though you can't argue with him either way, you're locked into a fourth cocktail. He keeps doing that thought your third is hardly complaining for it. You can't help but wonder if this is going to be an expense report. 

You swallow and grab your napkin. You dab your lips and shift. The weight in your bladder settles and you nearly squeak. You lean forward and fold the cloth. 

"Er, excuse me, I need... to go to the ladies," you try to make it sound as proper as you can. 

"Mm, pardon," Pine is quick to slide off the bench. "As you will." 

You shimmy over, biting your lip as your insides knot. As you stand, he looms close, and you swear his hand brushes closes against your pants. You don't flinch as you can only focus on the urgency in your pelvis. 

You flee, grateful for more than the relief of your body, but to be free of them for one second. The two men together are the definition of suffocation. You can't keep track if they're having fun or doing battle. Over what, you're uncertain. 

You take your time before you return to the table. You see the men huddled over as you approach, voices low. They're strangely amiable after a night of dueling.

Your drink is waiting on the table. This time, Nick stands to let you in. You skirt by and he sidles in after you. 

"Well, that was a wonderful meal," Pine intones, "are we keen for dessert?" 

As you lean forward to busy yourself with a stir of the slender straw, you feel a tickle on your back, "how about it, Elf? You like sweet stuff?" Nick asks. 

You sit back before you can taste the cocktail and crush his hand. 

"Huh, oh, now, I'm stuffed." You affirm. He doesn't pull his hand away. 

"I am in the mind for it," Jonathan caresses your sleeve and you look at him. "Mm, something warm and soft." 

"Hm?" You make a face and Nick pinches a fold in your pants, giving a tug. "Woah, hey." 

You catch his hand as Pine's flutters along your neck. You lean away from the latter as you wrestle your boss. 

"What the hell are you--" 

"We had a civil discussion when you were occupied," Pine explains  

"We've come to an arrangement," Nick grins as he bats your hand off of his. 

"Um, can you stop?" You latch onto both of their hands, squirming as you try to push them away. "This is not--" 

"Ah, come on, Elf, just a little after work fun..." Nick squeezes your knee  

"I don't--" you're dizzy with confusion and surprise. What the hell were they talking about when you were gone? 

"You've had a bit much to drink, it would be irresponsible for two gentlemen to allow you to go home alone," Pine toys with your fingers, "it isn't safe." 

"Woah, stop," you his as you writhe between them, "I'm fine. I haven't-- I'm barely tipsy." 

"Is that so, darling?" Pine tuts. 

"You know, it isn't very professional to flirt with my professional colleagues," Nick reprimands. 

"No, I didn't--" you choke on your words. Maybe you are a little drunk because you can't see straight. "I... it's a business dinner." 

"It's a formality," Pine insists. 

Heat speckles down your neck and across your shoulders. Pressure constricts your chest and throat as you try to set yourself straight. You can't focus as they keep pawing at you. 

“Form-- hey, okay, buddy!” You barely keep your voice from exploding as Nick’s hand slips between your legs. 

“Buddy? What happened to sir, Elfie?” He teases. 

“What the hell happened to you?” You retort, too addled to think clearly. You know he’s still your boss but he’s not acting like it. 

“It’s Saturday, loosen up. You think I don’t know what you do when you go out with the girls?” he grits. 

Jonathan’s hand wraps around your neck and Nick fights with your own desperate grip. You struggle to keep him from going higher. You glance over, aware that you could have witnesses to this display of animalism. 

“Why don’t we get out of here?” Jonathan purrs. 

“How about--” You clasp onto his wrist, “we don’t? I should go home.” 

“Darling, you’ve been flirting all night and now you want to spoil the fun?” The blond chides. 

“No. Not flirting, I--” 

“Come on, Elf. Don’t you wanna have some fun? All those dull office days? Sitting there, in those pants, bending over...” 

“Jesus,” you hiss and wriggle between them, “what’s-- what’s-- this can’t be real.” 

“Oh, this is very real, darling,” Pine hums into your hair. 

He runs his other hand down your arm and guides your hand back. He places your palm against his lap and you squeak. Nick chuckles and frees himself from your clutches. He pushes his fingers against the front of your pants and winks. 

“Elf, you’re a good girl.” He pushes until you whine, “you always do what you’re told... and you’ll do just that tonight.” 

[crxshed-skxlls]

— ❝ Ethereal Sickness

Slenderman x M!Reader

Word count: 2K+

Plot: You are a private supernatural investigator, working under the whims for any haunting experiences your way. You soon get lost in the forest, and It wasn't long before you realize you are not the only one in this place..

NSFW tags: Dubcon, Prey/Predator themes, exhibistionism, Tentacles, Monster Fucker, Sadomasochism, blood play, power imbalance, degradation, rough sex

You had a sick feeling ever since you came here. Your eyes scan the forest interior with a small reluctance. Some people reported in your emails of a potenially supernatural experience, and you were intrigued. Your mind was always captivated by the macabre and mysterious. You had a weird fascination ever since the playful stories of Bloody Mary and Charlie Charlie. You take a deep breath, inhaling the thick air of the forest as you sigh. You take a couple more steps in the woodlands, hearing the faint crushing sound of leaves and twigs under your shoes. You carry a small camera, just in case there were any spirits to capture. You pause as you hear a twig snap behind you -- whipping around only to see.. Nothing but a small squirrel scurry up a tree. You sigh in somewhat relief. You're admittedly a little nervous, anticipating any strange encounter that may lurk around the corners.

Though, you assume your thoughts to be your subconscious toying with you. You sigh and turn back around, walking deeper in the murky terrain. Undoubtedly this forest was pretty, but a subtle hint of unease settled inside. The fogged, moist atmosphere made things a bit blurry for you to see. The dark, lush flora meshed with the paranoid thoughts of someone lurking around. You are soon snapped into reality again as you see a strange sight. Your eyes widen in intrigue as you notice a weird page in the distance, hanging a few muddled feet from a rotting tree. You start to move by yourself, curiously wandering to the strange picture. It depicted a strange drawing with symbols you couldn't recognize, seemingly created with dirtied charcoal. You delicately take the page from the tree, carefully examining it. However, you accidentally smudge some of the charcoal. It left a black residue. Weird. This picture seemed to be fresh.

You collect the page as evidence, looking around to see if you can find anymore near. It was only then you hear another subtle sound of leaves crunching – making you dart to the general direction. This time, there was nothing there. Your heart starts to drop as you feel a sense of dread and paranoia. You quickly start walking in a different direction, only to see another page faintly in the distance. You felt as if eyes lingered over you, but maybe you were just being paranoid. Sometimes chills are a good thing, it means your doing something right at least. You could practically feel the paranormal air thicken as you go on to the other page. This one seemed much older in quality, only a big symbol in the middle with an eerie note; You feel a knot nervously bubble in your stomach as you read the scribbled writing. The phrase stated,

HE IS ALWAYS WATCHING

You pondered curiously. Whom might "he" be? You quickly collect yourself as you soon see something in the corner of your eye– a startling figure. You turn your head, only to find nothing there. This was strange. Not once did you ever feel such unsure paranoia. Irrational thoughts caved into your consciousness as you take the second page with a lump in your throat. Despite your paranoia and irrational behavior, you chalk it up to your nerves. Something that something in the distance was amused by. Amused, and out of sight, lies an ancient entity. He went by many names, by many legends. However, he coined "Slenderman" more infamously. He had been watching for a bit now, observing your odd behavior with a predatory gaze. As if a tiger stalking down its prey in a well forested area. Slender pleasantly toys with you, practically ogling your irrational reactions.

 He had seen many mortals before; humans carelessly roughhousing his domain. He growled quietly at the thought of those leeches.. However, you were intriguing. You captivated him with the delicate ways you would handle your surroundings, how quick it was for you to shudder and shiver with nervousness. As much as he was known for his careless nature towards humans, you had certainly caught the wrong eyes. Meanwhile, you were still wandering in what felt like a conflicting trance. Both your mind and body telling you that you must go; flee… However you were lost in the mysteries and captivated by the pages. There was a sick feeling in your stomach; nausea kicks in as you feel a presence linger in the air. You spin around – your heart skipping a beat as you see a tall figure. You quickly start to flee, running as fast as you can as your adrenaline causing you to beeline to the opposite direction. What a lovely look for you to an eyes of a prowling creature.

The air becomes more thick and cold as you dart through trees, hoping to get it off your trail. Whatever it was it was not human, and it definitely seemed unfriendly. Slender catches to your pace as he patiently watches you crumble physically. You aren't too athletic or anything, but your body told you to keep going. You had scattered the pages behind you somehow during the irrational running, but you didn't look back. You kept going until you hit a rock, stumbling down a harsh steep hill. As you tunbled, you can feel the scrapes and gashes unwantedly scrape your body – only to fall a couple inches from a tree. You let out a whimper as you catch your breath, sitting upright only to be met with the being in question. You didn't want to admit it, but you were weirdly enraptured by the way he gazed at you. You were scared – no, terrified.. Though something about the way he stood so grand in front of you made you flushed. You take a shaky breath as the figure grew near.

" What might we have here… "

You gasped, surprised at the low voice that rang in your ears. You look on curiously as his voice teased. Slender looks down in a confused but curious glance as you shiver and tremble on the ground. You watch as his black, slender tendrils slide out of his back. You gulp nervously as you try moving back, only for Slender to swiftly smacks you to the tree. You yelp painfully as he pins you to the tree, your eyes betraying your focus as you watch Slender leans in closely.

" Wh– What do you want fr- from me?  "

You croak out as Slender's skeletal hands ghost around your abdomen. Even without eyes, Slender was observant to your fear. He drank the look of terror from your face, the bloodied gash along your cheek made his grip tighter on you. It wasn't long until you watch as Slender's facial skin moves. You gasp, horrified as you watch Slender's skin tear and crack. It showed Slender's mouth, sharp teeth and a long black tongue with ripped pale skin.

" I want you to be a good meal for me. "

" W- wait !! "

You shriek and squirm as he moves down to your neck, feeling his mouth open wide. A different tendril floods your mouth, unexpectedly choking you. You squeezed your eyes shut, expecting the ethereal being to take a good chomp of you… But he doesn't. Instead, you feel the slimy, wet sensations as his tongue laps at your neck. You gag on his tendril, letting out a small moan as the stinging feeling of your wounds is lapped up by his sickly black tongue. He pulls away for a moment, taking in the delicious iron taste in his mouth of your open wounds. He stalks your body in a way that feels possessive, territorial. You feel yourself trickle another moan on the soft tendril as the man lifted your shirt, cold air hitting you as he wanders. You were unsure of this, at least with the delirious and disoriented state you were in. 

The tendril in your mouth soon pops out with a slick pop – allowing you to gasp. You dont dare to utter any words though, trembling as you watch Slender tenderly lick your abdomen. You let out a moan as he licks up, trailing to your chest. You try to squirm away, but he has you firm to the tree. He sighs abruptly, his warm breath causing you to whimper out. It was only then you gasped, feeling something slick paw at your crotch. You attempt to wiggle out again as your breath hitches, looking at Slender with worry –

" Wait – Wait please I don't know if I can – "

You beg and plead through breathy moans and shaky replies, Slender growling in a guttural tone. He creepily smiles as he watches tears prick your eyes, licking his lips. You couldn't help but feel yourself throb as you see your own blood plastered sickly on his "lips". He soon claws away your dirtied shirt with a swift rip, causing you to land your head back to the tree in a shiver. The mix of unpleasant cold and dirty pleasure had you reeling. For what it is though, you didn't expect such a beast to be almost gentle with you – and you have backtracked that statement as he rips your pants away. You shriek out with a gasp, your face flushing redder as you look away from Slender. The tendriled being laughs coldly, his tentacle palming at your throbbing erection.

" You really are a sick meal, are you? Such a mortal like yourself would keep struggling– but your different. "

He hisses with a predatory gaze. The degrading made you whimper, only before crying out as he bites your tender flesh on your shoulder. You yell in a weird mix of pain and pleasure, the sweet twinge of agony as he laps up more of your blood. You feel the man's tendril pull down your boxers, leaving you bare naked. Your cock springs out shamefully, precum laced at the tip. Slender giggles in almost amusement. His big hands trailing down your tendered waist. You lay your head in embarrassment, weakly kicking your legs in protest. Slender's tendril swirls around your dick, tracing the peculiar veins that popped out. You shamefully groan, letting your head fall back more as you marched. Slender hisses in delight.

" Wow, so shameful to moan for such a monster. What do you think others would think seeing you like this, hm? "

Slender taunted, grunting as he unzips his pants. What came next was something indescribable; almost unbelievable. Your eyes widen at Slender's huge penis. It wasn't like any other humans though– it was a thick, black tendril with a slick feel. As his other tendril leaves your cock, he let's his penis slide against yours. You both let out a moan, one more surprised than the other. He was several inches bigger than you, and you were average to say the least. You shiver out a moan as he bucked his hips into yours, the slimy texture of his dick lubricating yours. You moan again before letting out a breathy gasp as Slender's hands raise your legs. You were folded between the being and a tree, tears spilling out of your muddy face as you watch helplessly. Your eyes widen at such a suggestion, shaking your head.

" N- no way! That's not going to fit in me! "

You cry out, watching as he examines your cute little hole. It was already laced with some of your own precum, watching as you clench to nothing was both arousing and amusing to the man. He looks at the mess he made, aiming his slick dick to your hole. You begged more, pleaded even. He teased your ass with the tip of his cock, swirling around your entrance. You moan at the unusual feeling, panting slightly as your dick twitched between you two. Slender leans to your bloodied, bitten shoulder to lick the gashes he marked onto you. You hiss in pain, wincing at the twinges of pleasure it brought you. Your stomach knotted up as it pulled more heat, becoming almost unbearable. Slender noticed this, even as your cock twitched. You both knew what was coming as he laughed darkly.

" Already coming, are we? Such a shame. It hasn't even got to the fun parts yet.. "

Fun parts? You shiver from what he staged. You were already becoming undone, and he still had more plans? Your thoughts are soon interrupted by a harsh force and a painful twinge. Slender had finally slipped his dick into you, bottoming in one strong move. You leans your head forward, biting into the man's clothes shoulder with a scream. The mixed pain and pleasure had got you to spill out – coming onto your abdomen and chest as you heaved and moaned in the being's shoulder. He grunts at the twinge of pain, his dick slick as he moves inside of you. He grunts as he pulls halfway out before plunging back into you. You arch your back as you moaned out, feeling Slender set a ridiculous pace. His quiet but guttural moans rang in your ears as he rips inside of you. It was only then you had completely lost yourself when you felt him curl into your prostate. You whimper and moan out shamelessly as you put your hands on Slender's shoulders to stable yourself.

" Mm - More! God, more sir– "

Your meek voice sent Slender into a predatory growl, slamming into your prostate as he draws more of your noises out. You could only feel a flood of pain from the ache of the tree scraping your back, your bitten shoulder, and some other injurgies. However, pleasure flushed your body as you come for a second time. Your cum lands on his suit as he slams into your ass. You let out more "sirs" and "pleases" in the air.

" Awwh you – Haah – foolish being.. Such a slut you became, darling."

The petname and moans he let's out sends you overboard. You feel twinges of overstimulation kick in as you lay almost limp in the being's grasp. He lays his head to the tree holding you, letting out more moans as his hips sputter into you.

" Please – no more!-- haah– cant– "

" Yes you can. You will take what I give you– "

Slender interrupts your pleas as he grips the soft flesh of your thighs, sinking his teeth back into your shoulder as he spurs on one more time. You cry out with a yelp, feeling the twitch inside you before you felt him cover your insides with his sticky ropes. You both pant in silence, only hearing your breath as be pulls out of you. Slender moans slightly as he watches his seed spill out of your hole, the mixed of sweat and other bodily fluids clung to you as you pant. You feel exhausted as your body comes down from your high, blinking slowly as you look up at Slender. He looks down as he let's go of you, letting you gently fall to the bottom of the tree. He marvels at his creation, and you look up at him like he was an angel from hell. He was pretty terrifying, but he also looked so hot as he watches the mess he created. 

You were drenched in fluids, and naked. The blood from your shoulder had trickled it's way down to your soft chest. Your nipples perked up from the neglected attention it had. You had mud and gashes that covered you a in spots. You had Slender's seed spill out of you as your cock softened. You were filthy, disgusting, and a mess. Slender gawks at you with a smirk, leaning down towards you. You look at him with half lidded eyes, shakily breathing as you lay limp against the tree. You shiver and tremble with the cold wind as he lays his eyes on you. It wasn't long after he took in such a sight he grabbed you, picking you up with his arms. You don't have any strength to protest, whimpering as he looks at you. Something was definitely different however.. His gaze was softer, and his hold on you was different. Instead of the hard, possessive grip he had, it was replaced with a gentle but firm squeeze.

" You're mine now. You will be mine for as long as you live. Do you understand me? "

You give a weak nod before your eyes start rolling in the back of your head. You pass out right then and there. Your consciousness leaving your body as you lay limp, blissfully ignorant to what you had just endured.

-

You then wake up in your house. You were clothed and covered in the warmth of a blanket. You would be lying if you thought it was all just a dream until you felt it hit. The ache of your body made you grunt as you turn. You noticed something on your nightstand however. It was your camera and a crinkled note. Just like the papers in the forest. You look to see it's one of the ones you had picked up; ALWAYS WATCHING lingering in your head with not fear – but a longing. You sit the page down as you flop back onto your bed, sighing as you plop your face in the soft pillows below. You then drift back off to unconsciousness, the last thing you see is a figure at the corner of your eye as you peacefully pass out.

[l0ngschl0ngking]

Apology won’t cut it

Tim Rockford x f!reader

summary: Tim forgot about your anniversary…how can he make things right?

warnings: SMUT (oral -f!receiving, vaginal fingering, somnophilia -with estabilished consent, reader and Tim talked about it before-, unprotected p in v, reader “hangs” onto those shoulder holsters while Tim fucks her, creampie,(1) spitting on pussy, praise kink, biting), talks of infidelity, cursing, mentions of food, mentions of reader being pregnant, fluff -it’s me…so :)

word count: 4.3K (how that happened? - i don’t know either)

A/N: Tim is hot and I have things for detectives/agents with shoulder holsters (*cough, cough* Seeley Booth)

You met Tim a few years back through your friend. Normal Sunday brunch turned into you confiding to her – telling her that you worry that your husband might be cheating. The past few months he was spending more and more time in his office – the fact that you saw his new personal assistant a few months back who was much younger and prettier than you didn't help.

Susan, your friend, tried to soothe your worries but when you started being a babbling and a sobbing mess – you've spend most of your life with your husband and the thought of him cheating on you cut your heart deeper than you thought it would – she sighed and withdrawn something from her purse. A small plain business card layed between her neat fingers.  

She passed it to you with a few tissues as well and when you finally wiped all of your tears away,  you looked at what was written on it – both of your eyebrows raising in a question.

“It's a private investigator. I hired him when I had a suspicion that Richard might be cheating on me as well. Turned out he was just working extra shifts so he could buy me an engagement ring.” She grinned at the memory and you looked at her finger – the diamond ring he bought her shining in the daylight sun. You offered her a little smile – happy for her. Richard was a nice guy – sweet and genuine and you didn't know how she could think he was cheating on her – he kissed the ground she walked on. “But really, he is great, sweetie. A little pricey but he does his job well. It doesn't hurt that he is easy on the eyes too.” She winked while you bit your lip in contemplation.

A few days pass since your Sunday brunch and you think about calling the number numerous times – then telling yourself that you shouldn't doubt your husband's loyalty. Though when he left this morning without even kissing you on the head as he normally would – not even sparing you a little glance, you were more certain than ever – you were going to find out what was going on once and for all. Even if it should break your heart.

When the other voice on the other line says “hello?” you get nervous. You are really doing this.  

“Hello, uhm – I, ugh- I’d received your business card from a friend and would like to hire your services. Are you busy or-?” Smooth. Real smooth.

“No, not really,” he chuckles - the cigar he was smoking dangling from his lips, “would you like to meet at yours or at my office?” His voice was a little gruff but very soothing at the same time. You try to imagine what he looks like – didn't sound like a young man, maybe someone close to your age range – not that you were old or something.

You quickly scribbled the address where he worked as you found it more appropriate that you rather meet him at his office than if he should invade your own home.

When you arrive at the address he gave you, you found yourself in front of a small brick building – the doors are pretty mahogany color but creaky and when you enter it looks bigger than on the outside. Various small offices with different names on glass windowed doors surround you and you look for his business card in your purse – forgetting his name.  

Tim Rockford – it says on the card and you squint your eyes when you see doors with the same name on it far back. You stride with confident steps towards it even when you are not feeling that way at all. You knock – one time, two times and the third time a small gruff “come in” can be heard from the other side of the door.  

When you step in the first thing that hits you is the cigar smoke and you cough a little – you hate smoking. Then you finally see the man in question. He looks a little older - the bags under his eyes make him seem that. He quickly stands up from his leather chair that creaks and offers you a small smile which you uncertainly return. He is handsome in a ruggish way. His hair is short and has a few silver strands mixed in there as well,  and his beard is patchy – that is something very endearing about the fact. His shoulders are broad and you think he should buy a bigger shirt as this one is straining against his frame – not that you mind that much.  

He quickly puts out the cigar when he sees your nose wrinkling at the smell – observant as well. Not bad. He reaches his hand out to you and you take it – his grip is strong but not in an unpleasant way and his palms are a little sweaty. He clears his throat and offers you his name which you do the same in return. He sits down and gestures to the older-looking armchair sitting opposite him. It's comfier than it looks.  

“So, what brings you here, m’am?” You scrunch your nose for a second – not feeling that old but don't say a thing about it. Right, let's cut right to the chase.

“I-I think my husband might be cheating on me and I'd like for you to find out if that's true.” He doesn't look at you weirdly or anything – as you thought he would. He just nods his head and asks your husband's name which you provide.  

“That's all I really need. I will find out all of the other information myself and will call you if I will find some clues. Sounds good to you, m’am?” You nod and give him your phone number – the phone you called him from being the house landline.

A few weeks pass, Tim calls you often or you go to his office – recently you started inviting him to your house as you started feeling more comfortable around him – all of the clues hint that your husband is really cheating on you and he tries to make you feel better about it – cracking jokes here and there and you appreciate it even though it doesn't seem all that professional.  

Today he brings a folder with him. The yellow one you often see in some kind of crime film that holds photos of the victim – and when he enters he throws you a sad smile. You know what it means but you try to not think about it. You offer him tea and he hastily accepts – he knows that you already know. In the past few weeks, he got to know you and he noticed that you try to occupy yourself with other things when you are nervous.  

He sits on your leather couch – you bought it last week – and he watches you make the tea in your smaller kitchen. When you sit down next to him you put the cups of tea on the glass table. He passes you the folder and when you open it a few tears flow freely from your eyes. You were expecting it. You really were but it still hurts. You feel sick as you throw the folder next to the cups – not really in the mood to look at the pictures of your husband sticking his tongue into someone else's throat. Tim lands his hand on your shoulder – trying to comfort you. That's when you throw yourself at him, hugging him close to you and he doesn't reciprocate the hug for a while – it's not professional at all and he shouldn't but when you sob into his work shirt his heart breaks and pulls you closer to him. Slowly stroking your back and kissing the top of your head gently.

You stay like that for a while – him rocking you while stroking your back and telling you “what an idiot your husband is for treating you so poorly” as you try to compose yourself. And when you do- you pull away a little – looking into his eyes, maping out his face with your eyes. He's handsome – you noticed the first time you've seen him but after each time you've spent together you started appreciating his ruggish handsomeness more and more. You'd never admit it but you've touched yourself at the thought of him a few times – feeling guilty afterward not knowing if your husband was cheating on you. You felt like you were the one cheating after every time you got yourself off at the thought of Tim between your thighs.

“Kiss me.” You whisper as you look at him and he shakes his head – feeling like he would take advantage if he did.  

“No, you're in a bad mental state right now and you don't know what you are saying, sweetie.” The nickname of endearment falling from his lips is first and you shake your head in protest – pulling yourself on top of his lap and he doesn't have the strength to stop you as this is something he wanted for a long time too – you were not only a client to him. Not for a long time, anyways. You were smart and funny, and beautiful and he liked you a lot. Even if he really shouldn't feel this way.

“I wanted this for a long time, Tim. Please, just kiss me, will you?” You don't have to tell him thrice, he surges forward to meet your wanting lips and grabs your hips and you start grinding down on him. You moan when you feel him harden under you and he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue against yours – it's frantic and passionate and you feel him everywhere at once. His hands are pulling your tank top off and he cups your tits when they come into the view – pulling away from the kiss. He starts kissing your cleavage, his hands trying to quickly unclasps the bra if that piece of clothing offended him and you on the other hand try to unbutton his shirt. Getting impatient you huff and he notices – he always does with everything. He slows the pace down and unbuttons the shirt himself while getting distracted multiple times – you're kissing his neck and he moans when he feels you nip at the sensitive skin behind his ear.  

When the shirt is finally off you immediately start paying attention to the newfound flesh – kissing and licking a path across his shoulders that you oh, love some much and dragging your tongue lower – circling his nipple with it. He groans and throws his head back – the vein on his neck popping with the movement and you bite him there, soothing it with your tongue. He grinds against your mound and if you keep going he will for sure cum in his pants like a fucking teenager. He pushes against your shoulders softly and you start to protest but he shuts you up with his mouth once again. It's slower and more sensual – his tongue fighting with yours lazily and unhurriedly. He finally unclasps your bra – his greedy eyes taking you in. Palming them in his hands it's your turn to moan and he grins – his thumbs stroking the sensitive nipples. He brings his head to take one into his mouth and you can't do anything else than writhe on him – your hands are in his hair and you massage his scalp. He groans against your bud while the other hand strokes your other tit and you feel like you've gone to heaven and back. You didn't feel this good since – well actually never.  

When he is happy with his work – the bitemarks on your tits will leave nasty bruises for a few days for sure – he slowly puts you on the leather couch. You are sweaty and it sticks to your skin but you don't care – not when Tim is trying to get rid of your shorts. You don't wear anything underneath and you swear you can see his eyes goes entirely black – his pupils blown wide and his breathing quick. He lowers himself onto his tummy and you are confused for a second before you realize what he is doing. You try to protest that he doesn't have to but he just “shhh” you. His mouth is on your inner thighs in no time and his beard causes a delicious burn on them. He is slow with it – trying to enjoy every second of it but you are impatient. You tug on his hair and growl – slapping one side of your inner thigh mumbling a quiet “impatient girl” before he licks into you without a warning.

You cry out – your head thrown back and your back arched, the hands that are in his hair grip him tighter and he moans into your cunt with an unspoken agreement for you to keep doing that. Not many men went down on you – certainly not your husband – but Tim looks like he is enjoying this more than you if it is possible. His nose bumps into your clit with every lick – you feel yourself squeezing around his tongue. One of his hands makes its way to your open mouth and he sticks two fingers into it – coating them in your saliva. Pulling them back out he creates a path with them from your mouth to your neck, then under your neck, on your tits, down your tummy and then pressing two of them against your pussy – exchanging his tongue with his fingers while he sucks your clit into his mouth and it doesn't take long before you are cuming, after all, it has been too long since anyone made it seem like their life goal was to make you cum – the moans and cries of his name echoe throughout the living room with the wet sounds of your pussy squeezing his fingers while he fucks you through the aftershocks of it all.

When he finally stops – you have to push his mouth away from you feeling overstimulated – he just grins against you and sits up – balancing himself on his heels while he cleans his fingers humming at your tangy taste on them. You are exhausted and your lashes flutter against your cheeks but you can hear the clang of his belt and his words echoing in your ears: “ We're not done in the slightest, baby.”

You try to wait for him. You do. But your eyes feel heavy – you already ate the dinner you made for the two of you – Tims's favorite meal – lasagna. You put the rest of it along with the portion into the fridge – scribbling a quick note that if he feels hungry the leftovers are in the fridge. You look at the time: 23:03. And that's when your phone dings.

Hi, baby. Don't wait for me, I am still at the office working on that crazy grandma case . Love you, xoxo

You sigh in defeat. No apology, no nothing. You expected it, to be completely honest. He was so wrapped up in this new case he sometimes forgot what his name was. But you felt that he was married to work and not to you – not that you two were married but you get the drill. You understood it, he worked hard for the position he now has and you too are a workaholic yourself – the money you won at the court after the divorce was put into opening your little bakery. But to forget about your 5-year-old anniversary? That seemed over the top. You don’t bother answering him – putting your phone away you put the dirty dishes in the sink – you will wash them tomorrow morning. Keeping his favorite wine on the table in case he will want it when he comes home, you grab the little envelope.  

“Seems like it's just me and you again, little bean.” You smile sadly while you caress your stomach – Tim didn't know yet but you hoped you would tell him tonight. Guess not.

As you make your way into the bedroom you lock the door and turn off all the lights. Brushing your teeth and hoping in the shower for a quick wash you think about if you should have kept the envelope on the table – no, you will tell him tomorrow after you won't be mad at him anymore. After drying yourself you tuck yourself in and put the envelope into the drawer on your bedside table. Sleep consumes you quickly – you've felt exhausted for the past couple of days.

Tim comes home long past after midnight. He's exhausted and he just wants to plop on the bed next to you. He puts the keys onto the kitchen counter and wonders in the kitchen – the kitchen lits up when he puts on the flashlight in his camera – you like to sleep with the bedroom doors open and usually wake up if he turns on the lights. He furrows his brows when he sees the wine on the table – the single rose in a small vase in the center of it. He stalks towards it and sees that it's his favorite. And then he sees the dirty dishes and the small note on the fridge – dread takes over him when he sees the date on the calendar and he lowly curses at himself.

He forgot your fucking anniversary. What a fucking moron he is. He ventures into the bedroom to see if you are already asleep – if not he will apologize profusely even when he knows apology won't cut it this time. When he sees you fast asleep he sighs and slowly creeps into the bathroom to brush his teeth. The weight of what had done – or more so what he didn't – creeps on him and he decides that he will cook you breakfast tomorrow and take you out somewhere nice – maybe even finally do the thing he'd been dreading to do for over a half a year now. When he is finished brushing his teeth he returns to the bedroom to put his guns away. You are sleeping peacefully even when he turns on the light on his bedside table.  

You look so pretty in the dim light. Your hair is sprawled on your pillow and it's too warm in here for you to be covered – he can see your legs and the curve of your ass. He licks his lips and he is not so tired anymore. An idea pops into his head – you've talked about it before but never really tried it – maybe it would be one of the many steps of his apology.

He rolls up his sleeves and slowly makes his way onto your side of the bed. You are a pretty light sleeper and he thinks if you will wake up right in the start or if he can indulge a little. He kicks the covers that surround you and touches your ankle – the touch is light and gentle. His fingers slowly make their way up your thigh stopping on your hip and you jerk a little - you turn onto your back the flimsy tank top you changed into riding higher. Tim grins, slowly sinking onto the mattress. He kisses one of your knees and then the other. Slowly making his way up – he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your shorts and slowly tugs – seeing that you have nothing underneath. He always loved that about you. He caresses your thighs and kisses the inner side of both of them – trying if you will wake up he pokes his tongue out but you just mumble something so he keeps up his advances. Creating a path to your core he softly inhales and opens your folds with his thumbs as kisses your clit – you jerk a little but he hooks his palms under your hips to keep you still. His nose bumps against your clit with the first swipe of his tongue and he groans at your taste that he knows oh, so well. His tongue lazily licks into you and he is in no rush – enjoying the slow pace he slowly grinds his pants-clad hips against the mattress. It's not enough but he doesn't mind. Sneaking one of his hands away from underneath your hips he pushes one of his fingers in – you are soaked even though he barely touched you and he loves the fact that you are always so ready for him. You mewl softly and start to stir but he stops when your breathing gets even again he pushes two fingers inside of you.

The only sounds that can be heard are his harsh takes of breath and the wet suck of your pussy taking his fingers in – his mouth is now more relentless and so are his hips as he humps the mattress. His fingers curl and he tries to find the spot that makes you make such a pretty noise for him and when your breath hitches he knows he found it. He kisses your clit and starts setting a quicker phase. The tip of his tongue now flicks against your clit quickly. He can feel you start squeezing him and he moans when he feels your hands tug on his hair – the quiet “Tim” from your lips effortlessly. He mumbles a quick “good morning” even though it's not even 3 am yet.

You are right on the edge and when he adds a third finger it's all over for you. Your back arches and you cry out – his plush lips kiss your clit to work you through it and when he finally stops he pushes his cock out of his pants – stroking his dick with the hand that was in you just a few seconds ago. You are still sleepy and try to get a sense of what is happening but before you can think about it  Tim is kissing you and notching the weeping head of his cock against your entrance.

“Can I fuck you, baby? Can I fuck you silly?” You nod and he enters you with one quick swift of his hips – you can feel his balls against your ass and he tries to push even deeper. It's too much for your sleep-tired brain and you need to hold onto something – so you grab his shoulder holsters – they are cold and feel smooth against your palms and when you look up at Tim he snarls. “Yeah, hold onto me, baby.” And then he is pounding into you. The head of him pushes against your g-spot and he angles his hips just right. You can feel every ridge and vein of him and you feel him pulse in you – knowing that he won't last long. He grabs one of your ankles and puts it on his shoulder – you always said to him that shoulders like that were made for leg rest. With this new angle, he feels even deeper and you close your eyes – it feels so fucking good, his pubic hair is scraping against your clit and the gentles with hich he kisses your ankle while mumbling how “good of a girl you are for him” makes your heart ache with love for him.

He can feel you starting to squeeze around him and he bends so he can spit onto your pussy – it makes you cry out when you feel the wet press of his fingers on your clit. His are relentless and the sweat rolling off his forehead is making its way down his neck – his vein on it is popped and you'd like to bite it. The slap of his balls is lewd and the way he says your name – ordering you to be “good girl and cum for me” is making your head dizzy. It just two or so more thrusts before you are clamping down on his length and he moans – grabbing him by the neck you kiss him and start sucking on his neck – right under the himge of his jaw– and then he is cuming too – his forehead pressed up against yours. His hips try to push the cum deep inside of you and when he stops he falls next to your side, bringing you closer to him and caressing your spine.

“You think it worked this time?” You are still hazy from the orgasm, listening to his heartbeat slowing down and you just hum in question so he repeats it for you – you don't think about it too much and reach for your nightstand drawer putting the envelope you hid there into his hands.  

He opens it reluctantly and when he sees what's in there he can't contain his smiles and the few happy tears that spring out of his eyes.

“You serious? We're going to have a baby?” He laughs with joy and you caress his cheek – kissing the patch on his beard and then soothing it with your thumb

“Serious as I can be, babe. We're going to be parents.” you grin and he kisses you – smiling into the kiss and he thinks about the box in his suit jacket that has a small and elegant diamond ring in it.

He will propose to you tomorrow, take you out on a picnic or something. Yeah, he will do that.

[deardjarin]

save a horse (ride a cowboy)

agent whiskey x f!reader

sometimes you get a little… jealous

words: 1.5k

warnings: smut, office sex, mentions of voyeurism

⋆⭑✦⭑⋆

You know your partner.

You know how he flirts with most people he meets, but you also know how he would never be unfaithful to you. But, you can’t help but get a bit jealous when you hear him tease other girls.

You checked in two women for a meeting with the Agent: an older lady and a young college student who both work for a private investigation company. You can hear the younger girl giggling through the glass door- giggling. You’re sure Whiskey is pulling his usual tricks to strike a deal with the ladies.

You find yourself gripping your pen harder than usual.

The meeting ends at precisely 4:35.

The women kindly bid their goodbye, but the younger’s face is bright red.

Frustrated, you input the time into your system.

You smooth out your pencil skirt and fix your hair when you stand up. The room is awfully quiet; you need a certain Statesman agent to break the silence.

The automatic door opens with a quiet swish, revealing Whiskey sitting behind his desk. He’s staring intently at his computer, most likely sending off emails to his fellow agents.

“Jack Daniels.”

Whiskey beams, leaning back in his office chair.

“Well hell-o little miss,” He drawls, slightly tilting his head to the side. He beckons you with one hand, and pats his thigh twice. “C’mere, sugar.”

You keep your gaze firm, even though you want to stumble over to him like a newborn deer and collapse in his arms. Your heels click softly on the polished hardwood as you approach him, and instead of slipping into his lap, you stand behind him. Resting your hands on his shoulders, you give him a little squeeze.

“Did you have a productive meeting?” You ask, kissing his cheek. A bit of stubble pokes your lips, but you don’t mind.

“I sure did,” He replies, smoothing the fabric of his pants.

You twist a lock of his dark hair between your fingers, and trail more kisses down the sharp line of his jaw. He exhales a shaky breath, tightening his grip on the arms of the chair.

“Were those girls nice, Agent?” You continue. Whiskey shifts in his seat, noticeably aroused.

“They sure were- sweetheart, may I ask why you’re interrogatin’ me right now?”

You hum, running your fingers over the knot of his tie.

“I’m sure if you’d given them the chance, they’d be all over you,” You comment. “I mean, who wouldn’t? That’s what happened with us.”

The corner of Whiskey’s mouth turns upwards.

“Is that what this is all about?” He asks.

You maneuver yourself around and slip onto his lap, straddling his thick thighs with yours. His calloused hands immediately fly to your waist, steadying you.

“Maybe,” You breathe, cupping his face in both of your hands.

“You and I both know that I’d never touch another woman as long as you’re with me,” He says. His fingers find their way under the hem of your pencil skirt, and his touch burns.

“That so?” You ask, trying not to melt at his words. He hums, turning his head to the side and kissing your palm.

“You gonna let me show you how much you mean to me?”

You nod, breathless, and kiss him.

His kisses are always sloppy, a little messy, but they’re so full of passion that you don’t mind. Accidentally, you knock his cowboy hat off of his head.

“Are-“ You whine when his lips meet your neck, mustache rubbing against your sensitive skin. “Are you going to lock the door?’

“Maybe I’ll keep it open,” Whiskey drawls between kisses. “I’m sure those girls would love to see you, squirmin’ like a bug on my lap. Or maybe that shy little intern- what was his name? Frankie? I see the way he looks at you when he brings up papers.”

You moan, grinding your clothed cunt against his thighs.

“Jack…”

You’ve given up on your original plan. Whenever his hands- oh, his hands, cup your ass, you lose any semblance of rational thought.

Whiskey pulls away, making sure you’re balanced, and fiddles with the top button of your blouse. You usually keep a few undone because Whiskey likes it, but it’s clear he wants to see a little more than what you’re showing.

“Just gorgeous,” He groans when he fiddles with the last button, leaving your stomach and bra exposed.

“C-Can you lock the door?” You ask bashfully, shivering when Whiskey’s fingers brush over the curves of your hips.

“‘Course,” He says. Wrapping his arm around your waist to keep you steady, he leans forward and logs on to his high tech computer. There’s a faint beeping sound from the keypad outside of the frosted glass door.

“Make me so fuckin’ hard, baby,” Whiskey groans, gripping your wrist and guiding your hand to his crotch. As expected, your hand brushes against the hard outline of his cock, trapped in the fabric of his jeans. “Feel that? S’all for you.”

A strangled moan falls from your lips, and you give him a gentle squeeze.

“Let me-“ You stop mid-thought and hastily undo the clasp of his belt. The metal clang interrupts the sound of your heavy breathing: the only sound in the office. Your hands shake as you fiddle with his zipper, and with a deep breath you pull out his cock from his boxers.

Whiskey moans deeply at your touch. He’s warm and hard and you want him inside you so bad.

“Stand up, baby, take off your skirt,” He orders. You can see him clench his jaw, most likely restraining himself from standing up and throwing you against the desk.

Your legs are shaky as you unzip the back of your skirt, pulling the black fabric downwards. Watching you with dark eyes, your partner slowly pumps his cock.

“Sit back down, princess,” He murmurs, patting his thigh with his free hand.

Damn straight, You think. I’m his princess.

“Jack, I- I want to feel you.”

You notice the way his dick has left a wet spot on his dress shirt- shit, now he’s going to have to go home and change, all because of you-

“Mm!” You exclaim when Whiskey’s rough fingers find themselves inside your panties, pressing against your swollen clit. You have to grip onto his broad shoulders while he massages your wet cunt.

You’re a little upset when he pulls his hand away.

“Soaked.”

You feel like the air gets knocked out of your chest when he brings his fingers to his lips, tasting you.

“So sweet,” He growls. “Sweet like a goddamn Georgia peach. Wish I could taste you all day.”

His words feel like they make your body temperature rise to a thousand.

“Whiskey,” You half scold, half moan.

“Fuckin’- wanna bend over the desk? Let me fuck you from behind?”

You shake your head, gripping onto the expensive fabric of his suit jacket.

“Let me ride you, Jack.”

Whiskey throws his head back and swears. You let out a breathy laugh; you, and only you, can have him wrapped around your finger.

“I’ll let you do whatever you want,” He blurts, cock twitching against his stomach. “You gonna ride this cowboy, sugar?”

“Yeah,” You breathe, and your thighs shake as you lift your core enough so he can slip inside you. Whiskey holds your panties to the side while he guides the tip of his cock to your entrance. The two of you moan as you drop downwards, your ass pressing against his thighs.

“Shit,” He grunts through his teeth.

You take a moment to catch your breath before moving.

Jack keeps his hands on your waist, but leans forward to chase your lips. You cup his face in your hands, mindlessly kissing him while you move your hips. He fills you up so well, stretching and stuffing you in a way no one else can. You’re no stranger to this, in fact you’re quite skilled, but your legs still burn from the effort. It’s nothing compared to the way Whiskey’s cock slides in and out of you, though.

“Just like that,” He mumbles in between kisses.

You clench around him every time your clit brushes against his jeans. You’re sure Whiskey can feel it too; he squeezes his eyes shut each time it happens.

“S’good, sweetheart,” He praises. “Ready to cum?”

You shout in pleasure, nodding vigorously. His fingers find their way back to your clit, rubbing quick circles against you.

Your whole body shakes from your release.

It’s embarrassingly quick, but Jack keeps mumbling “that’s a good girl” in your ear. He continues to thrust into you, his movements becoming sloppy and erratic.

You slump against his chest while he finishes deep inside you, hips stuttering against your skin.

“Ain’t never had a better girl than you,” He says softly, brushing the back of his hand against your cheek. You smile; he always gets soft after he’s with you.

Before you can respond, the computer lights up.

Incoming Video Call: Agent Champagne

[weskie]

Ok ok ok hear me out. Albert Wesker comforting his s/o who is afraid of something people consider silly like thunder or spiders. Maybe they were in the lab and he was doing something that involved testing on giant spiders. Or they could be in his lap in his office terrified of a storm. I bet he'd be so sweet in private about it.

The damned things broke containment, which, of course, led to this.

One of the eight legged beasts had pounced onto your chest.  It didn’t do anything, but that certainly did not stop you from falling into a deep panic at the fact a mutated spider had decided to jump on you.

Wesker made quick work of it, tearing it free and hurling it across the room to splat against the wall.  And now here you are, shaking in his hold after he’d investigated you for injuries.  Even as he carried you to a private room, you trembled and even cried a little.

“Now, now, dear.”  He coos, trying his best to soothe such a silly upset.

You shake your head frantically, tears and snot present as you weep about how it could have bit you, how you could feel the whole weight of it hanging from your shirt, how ugly it had been so close.

Part of him knows this is a normal reaction from someone with such a strong fear of spiders.  Suppose one such creature leaping onto anyone else would produce much of the same.  But there’s also a part of him that finds this to be no more than an inconvenient bump in the road– something you’ll simply get over.  After all, he’d told you such creatures were being worked on today.  Why you thought to enter the lab knowing full well you were petrified of them was beyond him.

Despite the hindrance to his work, he pets a hand through your hair and waits for you to calm down.  He thumbs away the occasional tear and carries you back to your shared living space in the facility. Looks of confusion are met with eyes that could kill, though he suspects their effect was minimal due to the veil of his glasses.

“Be good and wait for me.”  Wesker instructs.  He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, humming as a soft grin settles on his face.  “And try not to stumble into any more scares today, dear.”

You nod and he turns to leave, lingering in the doorway for but a moment.  Part of him would rather stay but he knows better.  There is work to be done and dreams to be made.

There is a world that requires fixing.

[earlgarden-archived]

I haven't seen much of this, but what about Danganronpa x Ranpo!reader (from bsd). Like, everyone in the trial is trying to figure out the murderer, and the reader is just standing there, already knowing the identity of the killer-

Personally I would prefer if the reader was in Danganronpa V3, mostly because I enjoy the cast more. But that does mean that the reader can't be the ultimate detective, so you can make the reader be in Danganronpa 2 if you want :)

Extra comment:

"all's well that's well for me!"

ft. Danganronpa V3 Cast, Ranpo!reader

synopsis. You find yourself trapped in a school, with 16 other students and forced into a killing game! But don't worry, you're the ultimate Private Investigator!

warnings. Spoiler to the Danganronpa V3 game, mentions of death, kinda short

This was fun to make :) I had to rewatch BSD though, I feel like I haven't watched it in a while 😅

·˚✎ straight off the bat, you would annoy the hell out of Maki

·˚✎ you are just plain rude sometimes, and you seem like you don't take things seriously at all, which is just a huge red flag for Maki

·˚✎ like calling everyone stupid, or not helping with investigations and just simply snacking in your room

·˚✎ in some way, you're kinda like Kokichi

·˚✎ speaking of Kokichi, he would take an interest in you. You're just... So carefree. Just like him.

·˚✎ but he could tell for sure that you were not what you seemed. I can imagine you and Kokichi having a small competition to who's smarter.

·˚✎ Kaito thought you were low-key creepy. Because you just didn't seem to be bothered. You only looked slightly shocked when Monokuma announced the killing game, but after a while you returned to your calm face.

·˚✎ Kaede kinda liked your carefree attitude. But she also found you a bit rude, which didn't cause her to be very close with you

·˚✎ Shuichi was always caught off guard when with you, so he didn't really become friends with you until after the first trial. When he began to realise your intelligence.

·˚✎ speaking of the first trial (haha amazing transition), you didn't really do much to help. During the investigation, you just went back to your room. So everyone thought you were being lazy and selfish.

·˚✎ but then when everyone was driven to a corner, you stepped in and helped everyone.

·˚✎ literally no one expected you, who didn't even help with the investigations, to have figured everything out. But that's when you pulled a "I'll let the main character do everything" move. (Flashback to "tell them Naegi")

·˚✎ like, you'd be the Kyoko Kirigiri of Danganronpa V3, just more annoying and more lazy.

·˚✎ although, when it came to Kaede not being the actual killer, that was probably the one thing you accidentally overlooked. And it was only until later that you realized that Kaede might not actually be the killer of Rantaro. Or maybe you were already killed before you figured it out

·˚✎ slowly, everyone took a liking for your personality, because you were pretty trustworthy