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sematarygirls · 22 days ago

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COWBOY!RAFE x FEM!READER

WARNINGS .ᐟ oral (m! receiving), reader is kinda sheltered, mommy issues, parental death, running away from home, getting picked up by a handsome stranger

NOTES .ᐟ this was pretty fun to write tbh. i started this like a year ago and recently found it in my drafts, which led me here, so i hope yall enjoy it as much as i do.

Your worn cowboy boots thudded against the asphalt as you walked down the deserted country road, dragging your suitcase along. The summer sun shone brightly overhead, heating the atmosphere and causing a thin layer of sweat to coat your body. Your daddy's old cowboy hat sat atop your head, shielding your face from the sun's unrelenting, unforgiving rays. A loose white sundress swished softly with every step you took, slowly making your way farther and farther from your old life.

The death of your beloved father sent your already troubled mother into a state of disrepair. You watched as the mother that had sung you soft lullabies and stayed with you until you fell asleep transformed into someone you didn't recognize.

Most nights, you weren't sure where she was or if she was even alive until she inevitably came stumbling home in a drunken stupor through the front door of your little farmhouse in bumfuck nowhere, the screen door slamming behind her and startling you awake.

On the rare occasion that you saw her, she seemed to look through you. Her eyes were sunken with dark circles underneath them that greatly contrasted how bright and full of life they once had been. She was a shell of the woman she once was.

You tried your best to be there for her, but eventually, you realized that she wasn't going to change. She didn't want to get better, and you couldn't force her to.

On your eighteenth birthday, you made a difficult decision. You had been weighing it for a long time, wondering if you were doing the right thing. You wondered if your dad would be disappointed in you, if he would've wanted you to stay, but eventually, you knew that you had to do what was best for you.

You couldn't handle the constant worrying, only to be greeted with a cold shoulder the few times you did see your mother. You felt like you'd never have a life of your own in that house, suffocated by the memories of the happy family that once lived within the walls. You needed to start fresh—to give yourself the opportunity to be something more than a small town drunk like your mom.

You were leaving, and you were never coming back.

And for the first time in a long time, you had something to look forward to. You had a future that didn't revolve around taking care of someone else. You had hope that you could find something better out there, something more than this lonely life you'd grown so accustomed to.

You grabbed an old suitcase from the basement and threw it onto your bed. Opening it, your heart ached as you saw your name written in black sharpie on the light brown fabric. It was written in your father's handwriting, little doodles of stars and hearts surrounding it. For a moment, you had second thoughts about your decision, but ultimately, you pushed them away. you knew he would've wanted you to live a life worth something. He wouldn't want you to be confined to this house, worrying whether your mother would make it home every night.

You packed an assortment of clothing and little items that held sentimental value to you. You knew you had to choose carefully because there was only so much you could bring. Rifling around in your closet, you discovered your father's old cowboy hat. You stuffed it into the way back the day of his funeral, never wanting to see it again, but now, you knew you needed it more than ever.

It served as a reminder of home—not the house you were running away from, but the home that had once been filled with life and love. It reminded you of cold winter nights spent huddled by the fire and spooky stories told during thunderstorms. It reminded you of dancing in the kitchen while the three of you prepared dinner and listening to the rock station with a popsicle in hand as you curiously watched your dad work on his truck. It reminded you of a time before forehead kisses and goodnight stories were replaced by slamming screen doors and absent mothers.

You placed the hat atop your packed suitcase and went to sleep, your plan for tomorrow already set in motion. You woke up before your mother, quickly getting dressed and gathering your things before creeping into the living room. She was nowhere to be seen, probably having actually made it to her bedroom that night, but her purse was laying on the kitchen counter, a couple items spilling out from the way she had haphazardly thrown it when she got home.

Careful to not make any noise, you rummaged through, looking for her wallet. You didn't expect to find much, but you would take what you could get. After stuffing the cash you could find into your bra, so in the event that your suitcase was stolen, you'd still have something to your name, you took one last look around. You admired the height markings your father had made on the doorway, and the hole in the wall that he always swore he'd get around to fixing after bringing in a new couch went terribly wrong. A sad smile graced your face as you said goodbye to the place that had been your only home for as long as you'd known, turning the page and getting ready to embark on your journey to a new life.

Walking through the front door with your suitcase trailing behind you was like a weight had suddenly been lifted from your shoulders. For the first time in a long time, you didn't know what would happen next, and it frightened you in a way that was exhilarating.

The sound of a car approaching made you jump a little, the sound cutting through the quiet atmosphere that had previously only been filled with the light swishing of your dress, the sound of your suitcase wheels and boots on the asphalt, and the occasional chirp of birds. It was rare to encounter people on the deserted road you were traveling down since the area you were in was secluded and a good few miles from any houses or towns, so you knew to be cautious.

You turned your head, tilting the cowboy hat up to get a better look at the approaching vehicle and it's driver. It was an old grey-blue pickup truck with a white roof, a thin layer of dirt and grime built up along the exterior. You squinted your eyes to try and get a better look at the driver as they got closer, but the glare from the sun on the windshield hindered your view.

Hesitantly, you looked away from the truck, your gaze returning forward as you waited for it to pass, but to your surprise, it didn't. You clutched your suitcase tighter as the man pulled up beside you, not stopping completely, just rolling along to keep pace with you.

When the driver rolled the window down, you turned your head to face him, continuing to walk as you studied his face. He was a handsome man; you couldn't deny that. He had bright blue eyes that shone with intrigue, his pale pink lips pulled up into a smirk that had you torn between being deeply unsettled and utterly smitten for him. His brown hair was buzzed short, and he had a bit of stubble on his chiseled jawline along with a mustache on his upper lip—something you usually wouldn't have been privy to, but he made it look effortlessly good.

"What's a pretty little thing like yourself doing out here all alone?" He asked with the faintest hint of a southern drawl, looking you up and down. It should have disgusted you—a random man hitting on you in the middle of nowhere—but for some reason, it made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

You debated on what to say. At first, you were gonna say that your mama always told you not to talk to strangers, but that sounded so childish that you immediately pushed it away. You weren't really great at talking to people. You'd often spent more time alone than with others. You simply shrugged, deciding against saying anything at all and making yourself sound foolish.

His gaze darted to your suitcase, finding himself intrigued and undeterred by your lack of an answer. "Where you headed, sweetheart?" He asked, continuing to drive beside you.

Truthfully, you didn't have a destination. You were just sorta planning to go wherever the wind took you, which admittedly, wasn't a very solid plan. "Anywhere but here," you said cryptically. It sounded a bit cheesy, but it was true. You just wanted to put as much distance between yourself and your childhood home as you possibly could.

His smirk widened into a full-blown grin as he leaned across the seat to throw open the passenger door. "Well, climb on in then. I can take you wherever you'd like to go," he offered, eyes glinting mischievously.

You didn't notice this, however. You weren't all that great at reading people due to your sheltered upbringing. You had gone to school, but it was a small one that you'd dropped out of at sixteen to try and take care of your mother.

You looked over at him, your eyes filled with hesitance as you nervously chewed your lip. You may have been a little naive, but you weren't completely stupid. You knew how unsafe it could be to catch a ride from a stranger. "That's awful kind of you, but... well, I don't think I should."

His demeanor didn't falter, an air of confidence surrounding him—like he was used to getting what he wanted, even if it took a little convincing. "I get it, darlin'," he nodded understandingly. "A pretty thing like you can't be too careful nowadays, but I promise you I ain't gonna hurt ya. Can't say the same for others, though."

Your eyes widened a bit at his words, and for the first time, you seemed to be able to look past your rose-colored glasses. You were a young woman walking alone in the middle of nowhere—an easy and vulnerable target to anyone that could have wanted to hurt you.

"Look, I ain't tryna scare ya," he said, seeming to notice the fear that his words had ignited within you. "But... well, there's a whole lotta bad people out here, sweetheart. I'd hate to go home and find that pretty face on the news or somethin'."

"Well, how do I know that you ain't some serial killer?" You asked, quirking an eyebrow. You stopped walking to face him fully, to which he abruptly stepped on the breaks.

"Serial killers don't usually offer their victim's rides now do they?" He grinned wolfishly, leaning back and draping his arm over the passenger's seat. "I reckon they usually take by force, but I s'pose I wouldn't know since I ain't one."

A frown tugged at your lips, your eyebrows furrowing in thought for a moment. "I guess you're right..." You didn't really know much about serial killers either if you were being honest. Well, not enough to know how they rounded up their victims anyway.

He grinned wider, as if he could tell that you were doubting yourself, and he found it amusing. "So, how 'bout it then? You gonna get in?"

"Promise you ain't gonna like kidnap me or somethin'?" You asked softly, apparently trusting that he would tell the truth.

His grin softened into a warm smile, and he chuckled lowly as he brought his free hand up to place over his chest. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

You nodded, seeming to accept this as an accurate description of his intentions or rather, lack thereof. You picked up your suitcase and put it into his truck bed, all the while he watched you intently, his gaze lingering on the tantalizing view of thigh that your dress provided.

You climbed into the passenger's seat, pulling the cowboy hat off your head and placing it on the dash before closing the door and buckling yourself in. You weren't really sure where this handsome stranger was going to take you, and that's when it dawned on you that you had gotten into his car without even knowing his name.

You looked over at him, finding him already staring intently at you. You offered a shy smile, your fingers playing with the hem of your dress as you softly told him your name.

"Pleasure to meet you," he said, his deep southern drawl causing your name to roll off his tongue with a warmth akin to the way the summer sun had heated your skin. He put the truck in gear, the engine purring as he continued down the desolate highway. "Name's Rafe," he introduced himself, his gaze darting to you.

"The pleasure's all mine Mr. Rafe," you said politely. The man was not that much older than you—maybe two or three years—and thus was probably nowhere near old enough to regard as Mr, but you were taught that it was respectful to do so.

He grinned at the title, his fingers flexing on the steering wheel. "Just Rafe's fine, darlin'," he insisted, casting you a sideways glance, his gaze lingering on your lips as you smiled shyly.

"Okay," you nodded, looking down at your lap as you fiddled with your dress. Rafe was awfully handsome, the hottest guy you'd ever seen by a longshot—not that that was a huge feat—and you found yourself extremely nervous with the fact that you were alone with him.

"So, what are you doin' out here all alone?" He asked, casting you a questioning glance as he took his eyes off the road briefly. "You didn't say earlier." His gaze fell to your lap, watching as your fingertips brushed the edge of your dress repeatedly, the fabric having ridden up due to your sitting position and revealed even more of your soft looking thighs.

You shrugged in response, just as you had earlier. You didn't really know how to explain your situation, and you hardly wanted to trauma dump on someone you barely knew, especially when you'd be in such close quarters for God knows how long. "I'm just... travelin'."

"Travelin'?" He echoed curiously, quirking an eyebrow. His grip tightened on the steering wheel as his gaze dropped to your thighs once more, the fabric of your dress inching up even more as you absentmindedly fiddled with it. He knew he shouldve been focused on the road and not his pretty passenger, but you were making it hard—in more ways than one. "What's got you on the road by yourself?"

"It's a long story," you mumbled, looking up and casting your gaze out the window, watching the scenery blur by as he did 80 on the interstate.

He hummed, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel rhythmically as he looked back at the road. "You runnin' from somethin', sugar?" He asked curiously, your evasive nature leading him to believe that there was more to the story.

You rubbed your sweaty palms on your dress, something your father would have scolded for being unladylike. Your gaze darted to the cowboy hat on the dash as you spoke. "More like runnin' toward somethin'."

"Toward?" He asked curiously. "So, where you headed then?" He prompted, his fingers stilling their movements as he looked over at you again, trying to read your expression.

A smile pulled at your lips as you turned to him, your eyes locking for a moment. "It's more of a... metaphorical somethin'."

His eyebrows raised, intrigued by your cryptic response. Everything about you seemed to intrigue him. You were one big mystery wrapped up in just about the prettiest package he'd ever seen. "Metaphorical, huh?"

"Yknow, you got this tendency to just repeat what I say back to me in question form," you grinned, your tone slightly teasing as you settled more comfortably into conversation with the man. You examined his side profile carefully as he turned back to the road.

"And you got a tendency to talk in circles," he replied with a grin of his own, his eyes flicking back to you briefly before returning to the road. He liked looking at you, even if for a brief moment.

You thought for a moment, deciding that perhaps Rafe deserved a bit of an explanation, given that he was nice enough to give you a ride and all. "I ain't going nowhere specific," you shrugged, your eyes finding the cowboy hat again. "Just... looking for somethin' bigger, somethin' better, I s'pose."

"Bigger and better than what?" He prompted, casting another sideways glance at you. His gaze lingered on the way your lips parted as you spoke, feeling himself twitch in his jeans. He was a man that liked understanding things. He didn't like being on the outside looking in. He wanted to know everything. He was curious; it was in his nature.

"The life I had before," you said, your tone growing solemn, gaze never wavering from the worn cowboy hat as memories flashed before you.

He noted your shift in demeanor and the way you were staring at the hat like you were willing it to turn into something. "What's the deal with that?" He asked, feeling like he needed to know.

"It was my daddy's old hat," you smiled reverently. "He um- he died a couple years back," you explained, clearing your throat and tearing your gaze away to look out the window.

"I'm sorry, sugar," he said sympathetically. He wasn't the best at comforting people, but he wanted to try. He took one hand off the wheel, placing it atop one of yours on your lap, and as much as it was not the time, he couldn't help the way his dick hardened further at the feeling of your soft skin under his rough, calloused hand.

"'s fine," you felt your cheeks warm at the feeling of his large, warm hand on yours. Despite yourself and the topic of conversation, butterflies erupted in your stomach.

He left his hand there, feeling a bit like he was taking advantage of the situation but unable to pull himself away. He liked the way your lips parted and your eyes widened ever so slightly when he touched you. "So you're both runnin' toward and away from somethin' then?"

"Yeah, I s'pose," you nodded. He reluctantly pulled his hand back to the steering wheel, readjusting himself in his seat to find a more comfortable position for his hard-on. You found yourself missing his touch, his skin leaving a lingering sensation on yours.

He was hyper-aware of every little movement and sound you made. The way you shifted in your seat, the little hitch in your breath, the way your thighs pressed together. He swallowed thickly, trying to focus on the road, his jaw clenching as he tried to get a handle on his body's reaction to you.

"So, what about you?" You prompted, glancing over at him. You had told him a bit about yourself and thought it only fair you got some information in return.

"Me?" He asked, his voice a bit gruff. He cleared his throat, trying not to let his gaze wander to the way your dress's neckline dipped, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of your chest. "Well, I'm headin' home. I've been away for a couple months, workin' on a ranch up north." He said, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel as he continued to drive.

You hummed in acknowledgement. "Did you like it?" You asked awkwardly, not really knowing what else to say. You weren't awfully good at carrying conversations.

"It was alright. Good money, good people, but it ain't home." He said with a small shrug. "'Sides, I got a lot of responsibilities back home. Family 'n all that. Couldn't stay away forever."

You nodded, listening to him explain. You were a little intrigued. You'd never been anywhere outside your home town. You yearned to travel, to see what the world—or at very least the country—had to offer beyond small town gossip and local church services.

He glanced at you, wondering what was going on inside that pretty little head of yours. He wanted to know more about you, wanted to know everything. He wanted to know what you were planning to do now, why you'd actually run from home, what you tasted like, how you'd sound moaning his name, how tight you'd be wrapped around him.

You pondered your next steps during this beat of comfortable silence. You were starving, so food seemed like it needed to be the first stop on this little roadtrip of yours. Then, you figured you'd find a bus stop and hop on the first bus outta town, letting fate decide where to take you.

As you sat there lost in thought, he was watching you intently between bouts of watching the road. He noticed the way your gaze would occasionally drift out the window, the way your hands would fidget with the hem of your dress, the way your lips would purse slightly as you seemed to be debating something in your head.

"You can just drop me at the next town," you finally spoke up, turning to look back at him as you seemed to have made up your mind. A semblance of a plan was better than no plan at all. Besides, what would this new life be without a little of the unknown. You had no idea when you left that morning that you'd run into a handsome cowboy, and that had turned out to be incredibly thrilling for you.

He frowned at the prospect of you leaving him so soon. You'd only just met, but he found himself wanting to spend more time with you. "The next town?" He repeated, echoing your words back to you again like he'd done before. "And, what's the plan when you get there, huh, sweetheart?"

"Gonna catch a bus," you shrugged noncommittally. "Go wherever the wind takes me."

He let out a short, humorless laugh, clearly expressing his disproval for your so-called plan. "You ain't never been nowhere before, have you?" He asked, already knowing the answer. You seemed so innocent, so naive. He couldn't just let you wander off alone, could he?

"Well... no," a small frown tugged at your lips. "But that's kinda the whole point of goin' where the wind takes me," you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

He shook his head, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. "That's a fool-proof way to end up in some real trouble, you know. A pretty little thing like yourself, wanderin' 'round alone. You could end up anywhere, with anyone."

"Well, thus far, I've ended up here, with you," you pointed out with a small smile. "So, I'd say my plan is workin' pretty well so far."

"That's only 'cause I'm a gentleman," he said, his eyes flicking briefly to yours. You couldn't help but wonder what if he wasn't such a gentleman. You weren't completely naive. You knew about sex and had always wondered what it was like, and now, with this incredibly sexy man before you, you found your thoughts particularly impure.

He watched the way your tongue flicked out to wet your lips, the way your breathing picked up ever so slightly. He could practically see the wheels turning in that head of yours. "What're you thinkin' 'bout, sugar?"

"Oh, um, nothin'," you said softly, your body heating up as his voice, so low and husky—definitely not helping your situation—tore you from your thoughts.

"Nothin', huh?" He drawled, not believing you for a second. He had been with enough women to know that look on your face, and he was pretty sure he had a good idea of where your thoughts were headed.

You bit your lip nervously. You knew he had at least some attraction to you because you had eyes. You could see the bulge in his jeans but had done everything you could to resist staring at it, despite the growing urge to reach out and touch it. You wanted to see him, feel him, maybe even taste him, but you were completely out of your depth here.

"You're thinkin' 'bout somethin' that's makin' you bite your lip and press them pretty little thighs together," he said, his voice low and sultry. "So, why don't you just tell me what it is, hmm?"

You looked over at him, your eyes widened a bit at his forward words, also at the fact that he had noticed. Though, it wasn't exactly like you were being discrete. "Wh- I- well, it's not very ladylike," you replied sheepishly.

"Sugar, there ain't nothin' ladylike 'bout the way I'm feelin' right now either," he said, his hand moving from the steering wheel to rest high up on your thigh.

You couldn't help but laugh at his choice of words, looking up at him through your lashes as you tried to find the words. "I don't know how to um- say it." You said, your heart beating nervously in your chest at a speed that doctors would probably find concerning.

"Then show me," he encouraged, his hand slowly inching higher up on your thigh. "You can do that, can't you? Show me what you were thinkin' about?"

You hesitated before nodding. You couldn't believe you were about to give a man you'd just met head for the first time in your life, but your body was moving quicker than your brain, unbuckling your seatbelt. You pulled your legs onto the seat underneath you, kneeling on the worn leather with your body facing him. You looked at him for confirmation before you made another move.

"Atta girl," he praised, his voice husky with desire. His hand moved to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair encouragingly. "Go on, sugar. Show me what that pretty mouth can do." He shifted in his seat, spreading his legs wider to give you better access.

The lack of center console in the old truck was a blessing as your fingers fumbled with his belt. You were already nervous, and you knew you didn't have to tell him that you'd never done this before because it was written all over your face.

He watched with an amused smirk as you struggled with his belt for a moment. He found your inexperience endearing. After a beat, you finally managed to undo his belt, your shaky hands moving to his jeans, popping the button and unzipping them with much more ease.

"That's it, baby. You're doin' just fine," he encouraged, his voice strained with barely contained desire. His hips lifted slightly to help you tug his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his hard cock, the tip flushed and glistening with precum. You took in a sharp breath, your eyes widening a little. You'd seen one before but never in person and never quite that big.

"Wrap your hand around it, sugar," he instructed, his voice low and commanding. His hand tightened in your hair as you wrapped your hand around the base tentatively. "Just like that. Now, stroke it. Nice and slow." You followed his directions, slowly running your hand up and down his hard length, coaxing a low groan from his throat as his hips jumped just a little at the feeling of your soft hand on him.

"Fuck, that feels good," he groaned, his head falling back against the headrest and his grip on the wheel tightening. "Now, put that pretty mouth on me." You wrapped your lips around his hot tip, sucking gently and coaxing his precum onto your tongue.

"Mmmm... That's it, sugar. Just like that," he praised, trying to keep his eyes on the road and the truck in the correct lane. His hand guided your head, his hips gently bucking forward as he slowly pushed himself deeper into your mouth. "You're doin' so good, baby."

Your fingers flexed around the base of his cock, your grip tightening ever so slightly as yoy took more of him into your mouth, your brows furrowing in concentration while you did. "Relax your throat, baby. You can take more of me," he coached gently, his hand tightening in your hair. You did as he said, trying to relax and take more of him into your warm, wet mouth. "That's it, sugar."

The combined sounds of your heavy breathing mingled with the wet noises his cock was making as it slid in and out of your mouth. You gagged a little as the tip of his cock nudged your uvula, triggering your body's built-in safety feature against choking.

He felt you gag and knew he should have pulled you back, reassured you that you could go as slow as you needed to and that there was no need to rush, but shit, you felt so good and seemed so eager; he couldn't bring himself to stop you.

He kept pushing forward, his cock hitting the back of your throat, forcing you to swallow around him. He could feel your throat constricting around his length, and it was the most incredible feeling. You whimpered around him, your nails digging into his thighs and eyes watering, but still, you didn't pull away.

Your little whimper only spurred him on, sending a vibration through him that had him moaning, his grip on your hair bordering on painful. "You're taking it so well, baby," he praised, his voice strained with pleasure. "Shit, I'm so close."

Not long after, his hips jerked forward, and he held you in place, his cock buried in your throat as he came hard with a groan, his hot cum shooting down your throat in thick, salty streams. The unfamiliar taste clung to your tongue, even after you forced the warm liquid down your throat and pulled off of him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

He sat there for a moment, trying to catch his breath and calm his racing heart before he tucked himself back into his pants with one hand, his other keeping the truck steady. "You did so good, sugar. Real good." He murmured, his voice still husky from his orgasm.

You felt a wave of satisfaction roll over you at his praise, but you didn't know exactly what to do from here. Your plans hadn't changed just because you decided to expand your sexual horizons in the front seat of a barely-stranger's truck. Though, it felt a little awkward still asking him to let out you out at the nearest town after what you'd just done.

"We'll be comin' up to the next town soon," he said, as if reading your mind. "How 'bout you let me take you out for a bite to eat, and afterwards, if you still want me to drop you at the bus station, I'll oblige," he proposed, willing to do anything to spend more time with you.

You smiled, nodding. That seemed like a perfectly reasonable request to you. Besides, you had already planned on stopping for food before heading to the bus station anyway. "Okay, that sounds nice," you agreed softly, buckling yourself back in because safety first.

"I know a real good diner in town. They serve the best burgers and milkshakes this side of the Mississippi," he said with a grin, placing his hand back on your thigh, his thumb brushing back and forth across your skin. Your smile widened, stomach doing flips at his touch, and you found yourself thinking that maybe your adventure could wait just a little while if it meant spending more time in the handsome cowboy's presence.

tags .ᐟ @starkeysprincess / @cometmultiverse / @iheartjjmaybnk / @all4l0vee /

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majikkulu · 15 days ago

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━━ ❝MASTERLIST❞

these are my personal observations and may not resonate with everyone. please take them with a grain of salt, as i'm not a professional astrologer! :))

asteroid pandora (55) in astrology shows where curiosity drives you to explore the unknown, often bringing surprises or unforeseen consequences. where pandora is in your chart hints at what fascinates you and may lead to exciting discoveries or unexpected challenges.

ᴘᴀɴᴅᴏʀᴀ ɪɴ ᴀʀɪᴇꜱ / 1ꜱᴛ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ

people with this placement feel a pull toward adventure and risk-taking. they’re often spontaneous and willing to try new things on impulse, especially when it comes to their personal style or appearance. they might experiment with bold looks or unique personas, which can make them seem unpredictable or hard to pin down. this energy can reveal hidden strengths and insecurities, shaping their sense of identity through trial and error.

ᴘᴀɴᴅᴏʀᴀ ɪɴ ᴛᴀᴜʀᴜꜱ / 2ɴᴅ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ

here, curiosity revolves around beauty, comfort, and security. people may explore various ways to build wealth or surround themselves with things that feel luxurious. this placement can lead to sudden changes in financial habits or unexpected temptations around materialism. they might question what truly matters to them, realizing that not all comforts

ᴘᴀɴᴅᴏʀᴀ ɪɴ ɢᴇᴍɪɴɪ / 3ʀᴅ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ

this placement brings an endless thirst for knowledge, leading people to jump from one topic to another. they’re drawn to gossip and can surprise others with their communication style. their curiosity may bring a constant stream of news and fresh perspectives, but this can also create mental clutter, making it hard to focus deeply on one thing. they tend to explore new ideas and can be scattered, occasionally doing too much at once.

ᴘᴀɴᴅᴏʀᴀ ɪɴ ᴄᴀɴᴄᴇʀ / 4ᴛʜ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ

people with pandora here feel naturally drawn to explore their emotional life and family bonds. they may dig into family history, bringing hidden family secrets to light, which can either heal or complicate relationships. this placement makes them very empathic, so they may experience intense emotional encounters. their curiosity around home and family shapes their inner world, pushing them to redefine their roots and values.

ᴘᴀɴᴅᴏʀᴀ ɪɴ ʟᴇᴏ / 5ʜ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ

those with this placement have a strong desire to stand out and may attract both admiration and drama. they are often drawn to the spotlight, and this can bring sudden attention or criticism. they experiment with self-expression, often taking bold, creative risks. their curiosity might lead them into exciting or brief romantic experiences, seeking passion and adventure in love.

ᴘᴀɴᴅᴏʀᴀ ɪɴ ᴠɪʀɢᴏ / 6ᴛʜ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ

curiosity here centers around health, self-care, and daily routines. people may experiment with wellness practices, diets, or exercise routines. they are drawn to explore details and may develop a tendency to over-analyze, which can bring anxiety or frustration. they may encounter sudden shifts in their routines or at work, pushing them to adapt quickly and learn flexibility.

ᴘᴀɴᴅᴏʀᴀ ɪɴ ʟɪʙʀᴀ / 7ᴛʜ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ

this placement attracts people to unique or unconventional relationships. they may be fascinated by charming or mysterious partners and could experience shifting dynamics in relationships or partnerships. this curiosity reveals deeper truths about themselves and others, often challenging them to balance personal needs with those of their partners, which can bring growth in their approach to relationships.

ᴘᴀɴᴅᴏʀᴀ ɪɴ ꜱᴄᴏʀᴘɪᴏ / 8ᴛʜ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ

people here are drawn to deep mysteries and the unknown, often exploring taboo topics or intense emotional experiences. they feel a pull toward spirituality or the transformative aspects of life and are unafraid to confront their own fears. this curiosity pushes them to discover hidden parts of themselves and face their deepest fears, growing through profound personal evolution.

ᴘᴀɴᴅᴏʀᴀ ɪɴ ꜱᴀɢɪᴛᴛᴀʀɪᴜꜱ / 9ᴛʜ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ

with this placement, curiosity leads to a search for truth and a desire to explore different cultures and belief systems. they may frequently question their values or beliefs, leading to open-mindedness and growth. their curiosity about the world might spark an interest in travel or philosophy, helping them understand life on a broader scale.

ᴘᴀɴᴅᴏʀᴀ ɪɴ ᴄᴀᴘʀɪᴄᴏʀɴ / 10ᴛʜ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ

those with this placement experience curiosity around reputation and career, often feeling drawn to explore new roles or professional challenges. they may experiment with different career paths, sometimes drawn to roles with status or influence. this can lead to quick shifts in their public image, testing their patience and commitment in the face of public perception and authority.

ᴘᴀɴᴅᴏʀᴀ ɪɴ ᴀQᴜᴀʀɪᴜꜱ / 11ᴛʜ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ

here, people are drawn to unique social circles and unconventional ideas. they may find themselves exploring new social ideals and forming unexpected friendships. their curiosity pushes them to connect with people who think differently, often questioning where they truly fit in. this placement encourages them to embrace their authentic selves and find communities that resonate with their values.

ᴘᴀɴᴅᴏʀᴀ ɪɴ ᴘɪꜱᴄᴇꜱ / 12ᴛʜ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ

this placement draws people toward spirituality, mysticism, and the subconscious mind. they might explore dreams, fantasies, or other hidden aspects of their psyche. this curiosity can lead them to seek artistic inspiration or deep spiritual insights, often helping them confront suppressed emotions or illusions. pandora here invites them to balance their imagination with reality, exploring the mystical parts of life in a grounded way.

#divination #astrology #astro community #astro notes #astrology signs #astro tumblr #astrology blog #astro observations #astro placements #astrology placements #astrology content #astrology notes #astrology observations #astroblr #astrology community #asteroids

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eddith · 21 days ago

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After watching the fan letter i kept thinking how one piece is a masterclass of showing how a story doesn't need to be driven by romantic love to explore the beautiful romanticism of relationships in a real and heartfelt way.

Fiction is so oversaturated with romance that relationships between characters are most often than not so superficial and goddamn repetitive, I swear if it were another author writing marineford I would 100% expect the the plot to revolve around the main character saving their romantic interest.

I feel like writters dont really give platonic bonds this type of love and attention, and I do believe a part of it revolves around a societal context to what we as a society considers beautiful, romantic and worthwhile telling a story about.

And also the epidemic of loliness, the lack of connection and the isolation are all factors to why we see romantic love stories being pushed this much, this attachment of the idea of romance that most people seems to have.

And this is why i dont like the narrative of “separating the artist from their art” because I think this it is such a poor way of analyzing art. You can’t create a story like one piece, who explores platonic bonds and prioritizes them again and again and intentionally puts them at the forefront of your story if you, the writer, don't view those bonds as something special and worthwhile writting about.

Because after being caught up with one piece I kept asking myself why did this story had such an impact on me? The backstories, the bonds, they all shock me to my core.

Me being a older sister who wasn't ever that close to my little sister and who always felt this disparaging loliness since i was a child, watching mariford hurted me in a way that no story ever could, I can't imagine the impact one piece would have on me if i watched this when i was younger.

And I believe it's all because of Oda's view on relationships, how he seems to have a deeper understanding of people and how they work.

One piece transforms the “ordinary” bonds that most of us have in our lifes into something so extraordinary.

This why I not only respect Oda as a writer, but also as a person.

A person who could so beautifully show us the true beauty of life, that is, the people around us who love and support us.

#and there is a vital difference between just including platonic relationships in your story as a backroung plot device #and actively making it something so tragic and beautiful that it will resonate to people forever #another rant after i sobbed with the fan letter #one piece #i love one piece so goddman much #eichiro oda #one piece meta analysis #op meta #fan letter #one piece fan letter

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mononijikayu · 3 months ago

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thirty–nine — gojo satoru.

GENRE: alternate universe - reincarnation

WARNING/S: romance, domesticity, fluff, family, break up, hurt/no comfort, angst, trauma, implied death, hurt/comfort, character death, depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of graphic content,depiction of emotional breakdown, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief;

WORD COUNT: 7.5k words

NOTE: in honor of the olympics ending tomorrow, here is the figure skating pair satoru x reader which just took a while to write. i was debating adding so much stuff here, but this is so long already and i didn't want to let you suffer my yapping. please enjoy this as much as pasilyo!!! i'll see you for yuuji's story AND the winning story idea from the polls~ i love you all <3

masterlist

series masterlist

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IF YOU THINK ABOUT IT, SATORU WAS YOUR UNIVERSE. He always has been. Ever since you were a little girl, your life had revolved around Gojo Satoru. You remember it vividly, or at least you think you do. Your earliest memories were a mix of excitement and nerves, curiosity and clumsy attempts at coordination.

You recall stepping onto the ice rink for the first time. Your tiny skates felt like they had minds of their own. You looked up at your mom with wide, apprehensive eyes, wondering if you’d make a fool of yourself or somehow transform into a skating prodigy overnight.

“Just give it a try. You’ll be great!” Your mom waves, encouraging tune echoing from her lips. “Go darling!”

Your gaze swept around the rink, trying to take in every detail. There were adults gliding gracefully, children spinning in wild, chaotic circles, and the occasional crash that sounded like a minor icequake. And then, amidst this dizzying array of figures, you saw him—Gojo Satoru, as he was back then: a whirlwind of energy with an unruly mop of hair that defied gravity.

At that moment, your child-sized heart skipped a beat. You were captivated by his effortless moves, his goofy grin, and the way he seemed to have a magnetic pull on every eye in the rink. To you, he was like a live-action superhero—if superheroes had a penchant for playful teasing and spontaneous snowball fights.

“Who’s that? He’s amazing!” You asked your mom, eyes echoing in awe as you watched him skirt through like an angel visiting earth.

“That’s Gojo Satoru. He’s quite the skater. And one day, you’ll be just as good.” Your mom grins knowingly. “I hear he’s been in some competitions already, you know?”

“I wanna be like him, mama! I wanna be as good as him!” You say patting her arm, as she smiled. “No, I wanna be even better!”

“You will be, I’m sure.” She says, as she helped you into the ice rink. “You can do it, I believe in you.”

You took to heart your mother’s words. You could remember clutching the side of the rink for dear life as you tried to mimic Gojo’s moves. It was a mix of determination and hilarity. But you wanted to do better. You wanted to be as good as him, you wanted to be even better.

“Careful, you’re making my moves look bad with all these awesome spins!” Gojo Satoru skates towards you, grin on his face. You almost fell, but you recovered pretty fast. You looked at him in awe. “Of course, you’ll be in awe of me, won’t you?”

“I’m just trying to keep up! Your spins are impossible!” You reply, eyes full of stars as you stare at him.

“Impossible? Nah, just a bit of practice and a lot of attitude!”

Years later, you’d look back on those early days and laugh at how starstruck you were. It wasn’t just the skating that captivated you; it was the way Gojo made everything feel like an adventure, every practice a chance for mischief and fun. And through all the spills and thrills, he became a central figure in your life—a constant, whether you were gliding gracefully or tumbling spectacularly.

“Remember when I tried to copy your triple axel and ended up face-planting into the ice?” you said, a snicker escaping your lips as you glanced at Satoru. The memory of your clumsy attempt at one of the most challenging moves still brought a touch of embarrassment, but now it was wrapped in fondness.

Satoru’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he recalled the scene. “How could I forget?” he said, his grin widening. “You made it look like a new ice trick!”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I think ‘new ice trick’ is just a polite way of saying I looked like a flailing fish.”

Satoru’s laughter was warm and infectious. “No way! You brought a whole new level of creativity to the rink. I’d never seen anyone make a face-plant look like part of the performance before. It was almost... avant-garde!”

You raised an eyebrow, playfully skeptical. “Avant-garde? Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“Absolutely,” Satoru replied with mock seriousness. “You were way ahead of your time. You just needed a bigger audience to appreciate the art of the spectacular face-plant!”

You chuckled, shaking your head at his playful exaggeration. “I suppose if we had marketed it as a ‘revolutionary new ice dance move,’ we might have started a trend.”

“See?” Satoru said, nudging you with his elbow. “Told you. The effort made you even better. Every great skater has a few unforgettable falls in their repertoire. Yours just happened to be the most memorable.”

You leaned into him, enjoying the easy tenderness between you. “Well, thanks for sticking around to see it. I might not have had the best technique, but at least I had you to laugh with.”

“And to catch you when you fell.” Satoru added with a wink. “Though, I have to admit, watching you try that move was like watching a live-action comedy show. I’m still waiting for the sequel!”

You nudged him back playfully, a smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll get your fill of entertainment with me around. Just give me a few more practice sessions to perfect my ‘avant-garde’ style.”

Satoru’s laughter filled the rink as he pulled you into a warm hug. “Deal. And who knows? Maybe your next masterpiece will be the talk of the skating world.”

You might have had a few less-than-graceful moments throughout the years, but you wouldn’t trade those for anything. Because in every one of those moments, amidst the laughter and the tears, there was Gojo Satoru, making sure that no matter how many times you fell, he’d always be there to catch you—or at least to laugh with you when you got back up.

From the age of ten, when you first got paired up as figure skating partners, everything changed. It was one of those pivotal moments in life that seemed to alter the course of your entire world. The rink in your small town in Tokyo was modest, its walls lined with the echoes of countless skaters who had come before you. Yet, on that day, it felt like the grandest stage imaginable.

The more you saw him, the more you were in awe of him. He was beautiful in a way that transcended mere physical appearance—his presence was magnetic. He had a head of unruly, gravity-defying hair that seemed to perfectly match the uncontainable energy radiating from him. His eyes, bright and full of mischief, held a spark that made you feel as though you were witnessing something truly extraordinary.

You liked to watch his practice session. You watched every movement with awestruck eyes. He effortlessly gliding across the ice with a grace that seemed to defy the laws of physics. To your young eyes, it was like watching a dancer in a dream—a perfect blend of elegance and daring. And even though he was just a boy, there was something undeniably captivating about the way he moved.

You could see the other kids watching him too, their faces reflecting a mix of admiration and envy. He had that rare quality of being able to draw attention without even trying, a natural charisma that made him the center of every conversation. You, on the other hand, felt a mix of excitement and trepidation. You were about to join him on this stage, and while the idea was thrilling, it was also intimidating.

Sure, he could be a brat—too blunt and annoyingly confident at times. His comments were often laced with a teasing edge, and his self-assuredness sometimes bordered on arrogance. But beneath that surface was an undeniable charm, a genuine enthusiasm for skating that was contagious. Despite his occasional brashness, there was something incredibly endearing about the way he approached life with such unabashed exuberance.

It wasn’t long before you found yourself drawn to him, despite the occasional clash of personalities. There was an undeniable pull, a feeling that your paths were meant to intertwine. The more you watched him, the more you realized that beneath his bravado, there was a heart full of passion and dreams—a heart that mirrored your own in many ways.

As you began your partnership, the initial awkwardness and nerves slowly gave way to a growing bond. The rink became a space where you could both express yourselves, where you learned to complement each other’s movements and anticipate each other’s needs. The early days were filled with stumbling attempts at coordination, but through every misstep and every laugh, a connection began to form..

It wasn’t long before you realized that you were in love with him. It was as if the universe had aligned perfectly, making it so easy to fall for him. After all, who else could understand you the way Satoru did? You two had grown up together, skating side by side, pushing each other to be better, stronger, faster. You knew every nuance of his personality, every quirk, and he knew yours just as intimately. You were made for each other.

So when you were both twenty, standing on that podium with gold medals around your necks after the Olympics, the decision to marry him felt as natural as breathing. You didn’t need grand gestures or long speeches. Just a simple ceremony, your hands clasped tightly together, your hearts beating in sync as you exchanged vows. The world saw two champions in love, but for you, it was simply a continuation of a life already lived side by side.

Now, every glide across the ice, every perfectly executed lift, felt like a dance of love—the bond you had built over the years. You knew that no matter what challenges came your way, as long as you had Satoru by your side, you would always come out on top, both in life and on the ice.

But after competing together your whole lives, earning fame and glory in the Olympics year after year, the house of cards you thought could withstand any storm, any chaos, any catastrophe, suddenly crumbled. You were thirty when it happened, at the peak of your career. It wasn’t during a pairs event, but your individual skating routine—an arena where you stood alone, without Satoru by your side.

The routine had started flawlessly, every spin and jump executed with the precision and grace that had become your signature. But then, in the blink of an eye, something went wrong. A misstep, a momentary lapse, and you felt a sharp, searing pain shoot through your leg as you landed awkwardly.

You knew instantly that something was terribly wrong, but you pushed through it. The roaring crowd, the blinding lights, and the weight of your own expectations urged you on. So you kept going, forcing your body to move despite the pain, finishing your routine with the same poise you had always shown.

When the music stopped, you stood there, chest heaving, eyes scanning the audience as they erupted in applause. You had done it—you had won a medal. But the victory was hollow, the weight of the medal around your neck a constant reminder of what it had cost you.

Satoru was there in an instant, his eyes wide with worry as he rushed to your side. But even as he held you, whispered reassurances in your ear, you could feel the cracks forming. The injury wasn’t just physical; it was the beginning of something deeper, something neither of you had prepared for.

The house of cards you had built together, the one you thought could weather any storm, was suddenly teetering on the edge of collapse. And as you looked into Satoru’s eyes, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was the moment it would all come crashing down.

The injury was complicated, a tangled mess of torn ligaments and fractured bones that proved difficult to operate on. The doctors weren’t optimistic, and that crushed you in ways you hadn’t anticipated. The physical pain was one thing, but the heartbreak that followed was unbearable. You found yourself spiraling into a void of despair, the life you had known slipping away with each passing day.

You began to isolate yourself, retreating into the shadows of your own mind. The rink, once your sanctuary, became a place of torment, a constant reminder of what you had lost. Satoru tried to be there for you, but even his presence felt like a weight too heavy to bear. The once unbreakable bond between you began to fray, each day pulling you further apart.

When you finally announced your retirement, it felt like the end of an era. But it wasn’t just skating you were leaving behind; you wanted to erase yourself from Satoru’s narrative too. You couldn’t bear the thought of holding him back, of being the reason his career might falter. Your failures had already cost you everything—there was no way you would let them drag him down too.

Satoru, with his usual stubbornness, refused to let go. He never wanted a divorce, didn’t even want to talk about separation. But you needed space, a distance that would allow you to breathe without feeling like you were suffocating under the weight of your shared history. Satoru understood this—he understood it all too well. So he didn’t fight you, didn’t push back. He simply waited, hoping that time and space would heal the wounds that had driven a wedge between you.

And so, the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months. Satoru waited, holding onto the hope that one day you would find your way back to him, that the love you shared would be strong enough to bridge the distance that had grown between you. He waited, because he knew that no matter how far you tried to run, you were still a part of him, just as he was a part of you.

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HE WISHED HE COULD TAKE BACK THAT DAY. But he knew that he couldn’t change the reality of what had happened. No matter how many times he hoped, prayed, or wished for a different outcome, the truth remained that life had robbed you of your dreams. In the world of figure skating, the years were fleeting, and only a select few were fortunate enough to extend their careers into their thirties.

Satoru was one of those few, still gracing the ice with his presence at thirty-eight, but you had always been right there beside him. You were making plans yourself, contemplating when to step away, but it was supposed to be on your own terms, with a final performance that would leave the world breathless.

That’s what broke you the most, he thinks—the fact that fate had stolen that choice from you. You were supposed to have one last dance, one last chance to glide across the ice and feel the love of the crowd, to pour your heart into the sport that had shaped your life.

But instead, your departure was abrupt, forced by circumstances beyond your control. The ice, which had been your sanctuary, your stage, and your life, was taken from you without warning. And now, as you both reached thirty-eight, the painful reality was that you and the ice would part forever in a way neither of you had ever wanted.

For Satoru, it was excruciating to find his footing without you. Every day at the rink felt like a different world, one that was both familiar and alien. He tried to push forward, to focus on his training and his new role as a mentor, but it was impossible to ignore the gaping hole left by your absence.

When he looked around during practice sessions, at Coach Yaga’s stern face, the focused expressions of the staff, and the young skaters striving to make their mark, he felt the sting of loss all over again. The rink was the same, yet everything had changed.

There were no shared glances with you, no reassuring smiles or knowing nods as you both prepared to take the ice together. The absence of your voice, your laughter, your presence—it was a constant ache that refused to dull. Every corner of the rink held memories of you, of the life you had built together on the ice. Now, without you, it felt like skating in a shadow, always missing the light that had once guided him.

Satoru knew that this was his reality now, and no amount of wishing could bring back what had been lost. But even as he trained, coached, and tried to find meaning in this new chapter of his life, the thought of you lingered, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been.

It hurt more than he could ever express, but he kept going, because that’s what you would have wanted him to do. Even if he didn’t hear it, he knows this is what you would have wanted. And so, with each step he took, he carried the weight of your absence.

And he still got it. Gojo Satoru still managed to captivate the hearts of many in the skating world, even as the years wore on. The boy who once dazzled audiences with his youthful brilliance was now a seasoned veteran, revered and respected.

He still skated, still graced the ice with the effortless grace that had made him a legend, but he knew his time as a competitor was drawing to a close. He had begun to transition into coaching, guiding the next generation of talent. Rising star Megumi Fushiguro had caught his eye, a skater with raw potential and a fire that reminded Satoru of his younger self.

But even with the new responsibilities, the thrill of mentoring, it was hard. Every single day, the weight of your absence pressed down on him. You had been gone for a while now, distancing yourself in a way that left him feeling helpless and lost. The silence between you was deafening, a void he couldn’t seem to fill no matter how hard he tried.

He worried about you constantly, wondering how you were coping, whether you were healing—both physically and emotionally. The thought of you alone, battling your demons without him, tore at his heart. So, he made a note in his head to message you, to reach out once more. It wasn’t much, just a few words, a simple check-in, but it was all he could do. He never got a reply, but he knew you saw the messages. Somehow, he convinced himself that it was enough, that knowing you were still there, somewhere, was better than nothing at all.

At least he knew you were well. That was what mattered most, even if it meant enduring the silence that stretched on between you. And so, he continued to wait, just as he had before, holding onto the hope that one day, you might find your way back to him. Maybe someday you’ll find your way back into his arms.

But he never expected it to be right here, right now. Gojo Satoru never expected that he would find you here today. It was just another day at the rink, one of many he’d spent alone, trying to fill the emptiness that lingered after you left. As he packed up his gear, mentally preparing to head home, something caught his eye near the exit. He blinked, unsure if he was seeing things, but there you were—standing by the door, just like you used to, waiting for him with that familiar smile on your face.

For a moment, he froze, unsure if this was a dream or some trick of his mind. It had been months since you last talked, months since he had seen that smile, and the shock of seeing you here, in the place where it all began, left him momentarily speechless. But the way you looked at him, the way you waved as if no time had passed at all—it stirred something deep within him, something he had almost forgotten.

Slowly, he walked over to you, his heart pounding in his chest. The closer he got, the more real you became, and when he finally reached you, he found himself searching your face for answers. Were you really here? Was this really happening?

“Hey,” you greeted him softly, your voice carrying the warmth and familiarity he had missed so much.

“Hey.” he replied, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that you were standing right in front of him. “I didn’t expect to see you here. What brings you to town?”

You smiled even wider, the kind of smile that always made him feel like everything was going to be okay. “I wanted to see you.” you said simply. “It’s been too long.”

He felt a lump form in his throat, a mixture of relief and uncertainty. “How long are you staying?”

“For a while.” you answered, your eyes meeting him with a sincerity that made his heart ache.

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Satoru didn’t know what this meant, or what it would lead to, but at that moment, none of it mattered. You were here, in front of him, smiling that same smile that had captured his heart so many years ago. And for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to hope that maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something new.

As the days passed, Satoru and you slowly began to rebuild something that resembled the life you once shared, the marriage that had been so deeply intertwined with your skating careers.

It wasn’t exactly the same, but it was something beautiful in its own right, something tender and fragile, blossoming with each shared moment. Satoru cherished it, adored it more than words could express. He had missed you more than he had ever let on, and now that you were back in his life, he found himself clinging to every second, treasuring every smile, every touch.

You fell into a rhythm together, one that was both familiar and new. It felt like rediscovering each other all over again, like finding pieces of a puzzle that had been scattered but never lost. Satoru reveled in the simple things—the quiet conversations, the laughter, the warmth of your presence beside him. He had spent so much time wondering if he would ever feel whole again, and now, with you here, it was as if the missing pieces were finally falling into place.

Through it all, one thought became clear to him: after living multiple lifetimes with you, each time he was reborn, he always wanted you. In every lifetime, in every possible world, it was you he would choose, again and again. No matter the circumstances, no matter the struggles or the suffering, he wanted nothing more in life than to be together with you.

If he had to suffer, if he had to endure pain or hardship, he would gladly accept it—just to have you by his side. Because with you, every trial was worth it, every challenge bearable. You were his beginning and his end, the one constant in a world that was always changing.

And as he looked at you now, smiling at him as you always did, he knew that this was all he needed, all he would ever need. Satoru had found his way back to you, and he would hold onto you with everything he had, because there was nothing more precious to him than the life you were building together once more.

That night, you and Satoru were out to dinner together. He had gone all out, renting the entire balcony of your favorite restaurant in the city. The view was breathtaking, the city lights twinkling beneath a clear night sky. You sat together, enjoying a delicious meal, reminiscing and laughing like you used to. It felt almost like old times, a moment of peace and happiness that you both had desperately needed.

As the evening went on, you found yourself watching him, taking in the way his eyes sparkled when he laughed, the way his smile lit up the world around him. You loved him so much, and that love had only grown stronger with time. But as you looked at him, you knew it was time to tell him what you had been holding back.

"Satoru." you said softly, your voice tinged with both hesitation and resolve. "I have something to say."

He looked at you, a playful smile still on his lips as he asked, "What is it?"

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the words still came out shakily. "The doctor, I visited him.”

He raised a brow. “Is it about your knee? What did he say? Do you need another operation? If so, I’ll make time around it on my schedule—”

“Satoru.” You say, cutting him off. You smiled at him, shaking your head.

“My love, what is it?”

You looked downward, as though you were deep into thought for a moment. You raised your head once again and took a deep breath. He noticed the air shift, as he stared into your eyes. Your eyes narrowed as you looked at him with that haunting smile. He thinks he’ll never forget it. It was seared into him, how you could smile in this moment when those truths were about to come from your lips. The truth he hated most.

“I have pancreatic cancer, my doctor said." you began, watching as his expression shifted from curiosity to shock. "Final stage. The survival rate… it’s 0.08 percent."

The smile vanished from his face instantly, replaced by a look of utter devastation. His eyes welled up with tears, and for a moment, he just stared at you, as if trying to process the enormity of what you had just said. Then, without warning, he reached out and pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he could shield you from the cruel reality you had just revealed.

“What?”

“It…” You take a moment, trying not to break in front of him. “It was a shock for me too. But...…”

“When?” He huffs, as though he was about to run out of air. “When did you find out?”

You couldn’t speak for a moment, almost ashamed. “Two days ago.”

"Why?" he choked out, his voice breaking as the tears began to fall. "Why does it have to be you?"

Hearing his pain, seeing the tears streaming down his face, was enough to break your heart all over again. You felt your own tears begin to well up, and soon they were spilling over, streaming down your cheeks as you clung to him. But you tried to stay strong, tried to find some semblance of composure. You even managed a small, shaky laugh through the tears, though it sounded more like a sob.

"Satoru," you whispered, your voice trembling but filled with a gentle resolve, "All I want to do is have fun with you. With all the time left, hm? I want to skate like we used to, laugh like we did tonight… I want to spend whatever time I have left making the best memories with you."

He held you even tighter, his tears soaking into your shoulder as he cried quietly, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. "I can’t lose you, not again." he whispered, his voice raw with grief. "I don’t know how to live without you."

"You won’t lose me, you know what, hm?" you said, your voice cracking as you tried to comfort him, even as your own tears continued to fall. "I’ll always be with you, no matter what happens. But for now, let’s make the most of the time we have, okay? Let’s skate together, laugh together… let’s live."

Satoru nodded, though he couldn’t find the words to respond. He just held you, both of you crying together, sharing the pain and the love that bound you so deeply. He doesn't say anything mroe and neither do you. It was better that way.

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IT WAS A NO BRAINER FOR HIM. The day after your dinner, Gojo Satoru made an announcement that sent shockwaves through the figure skating world. Standing before a room full of reporters and cameras, he took a deep breath, steadying himself as he prepared to say the words he never thought he’d utter so soon.

“Effective immediately, I’m retiring from competitive figure skating.” he said, his voice calm but firm. The room erupted in gasps and murmurs, but Satoru kept his gaze steady, focused on the truth he had to share. “I won’t be taking on any new commitments as a coach either, not for the time being.”

He could see the confusion, the surprise in the faces around him, but he didn’t waver. “My partner, my… my spouse,” he continued, his voice faltering slightly as he forced himself to push through, “has been diagnosed with a serious illness. My priority is to be with them, to support them through this time.”

The room fell silent, the weight of his words settling over everyone. Satoru’s heart pounded in his chest, but he knew this was the right decision. Nothing mattered more to him than being by your side, especially now. The ice could wait. The world could wait. You needed him, and that was all that mattered.

It was hard—harder than he had imagined. The pain you were in was unbearable to watch, a constant reminder of the battle you were fighting. He hated seeing you suffer, hated the way the illness stole pieces of you day by day. You tried to stay strong, tried to keep smiling for him, but he could see the pain etched in every line of your face, hear it in the way your breath hitched when you thought he wasn’t listening.

Sometimes, when you were resting, Satoru would retreat to a quiet corner of the house, somewhere you wouldn’t find him, and he would cry. He would cry for you, for the life you were supposed to have together, for the unfairness of it all. He cried because he felt helpless, unable to take away your pain, unable to do anything but watch as the illness took its toll.

And yet, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, he knew you noticed. You would look at him with those eyes, filled with concern for him even as you battled your own pain. He wished you wouldn’t—wished you wouldn’t see the cracks in his armor, wouldn’t see the way this was breaking him. He wanted to be strong for you, wanted to be your rock, but the truth was, he was terrified.

He wished you didn’t have to see his tears, didn’t have to carry the burden of his sorrow on top of everything else you were going through. But no matter how much he tried to hide it, you always noticed, and that only made him ache more. He didn’t want to add to your pain, didn’t want you to worry about him when you had so much to face already.

But through it all, Satoru stayed by your side, refusing to leave you for even a moment. He held your hand through the pain, stayed up with you through the long nights, and whispered words of comfort even when he was breaking inside. Because in the end, none of it mattered. None of the tears, none of the fear—as long as he could be with you, as long as he could love you through every moment you had left.

Despite the pain that had become a constant companion, despite the weakness that sapped your strength with each passing day, you found yourself yearning for one final chance to skate. The ice rink had always been your sanctuary, a place where you felt most alive, most connected to Satoru. And now, as the end approached, you wanted nothing more than to experience that joy one last time.

You approached Satoru with trembling resolve. He was sitting beside you, holding your hand gently, his eyes reflecting the deep sadness and concern that had become all too familiar. You took a deep breath, mustering the energy to make your request.

"Satoru, please." you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I want to go to the rink. I want to skate with you… just one last time."

Satoru’s face immediately fell, a mixture of shock and concern washing over him. "No," he said firmly, his voice strained with the effort to stay calm. "You're too weak. You can't do this. It’s too dangerous."

But you shook your head, the tears welling up in your eyes. "Please, Satoru." you pleaded, your voice breaking as the emotion overwhelmed you. "I know I'm sick. I know it’s risky. But I just want to feel the ice again, to be with you on that rink one last time. It’s all I’m asking."

His resolve began to falter, his heart aching at the sight of your tears, at the desperation in your voice. "I don’t want to see you in pain, my love." he said, his own voice trembling. "What if something happens? I can't bear to see you hurt."

You couldn’t hold back your sobs any longer. You clung to him, your body shaking with the force of your tears. "Please." you begged through your sobs, "Just...please just this once. I need this. I need it for me, for us."

Satoru’s tears began to fall as well, mingling with yours. He pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace. He could feel the weight of your illness pressing down on him, the crushing reality of it all. He wanted to protect you, to keep you safe, but he also saw how much this meant to you.

After a few moments of holding you, he pulled back slightly, his eyes red and wet. "Okay....I...." he said, his voice choked with emotion. "We’ll go to the rink. But promise me we’ll be careful. Promise me you’ll tell me if it’s too much."

You nodded through your tears, a small, grateful smile forming on your lips despite the sadness. "I promise," you whispered, feeling a glimmer of hope.

Satoru helped you get ready, carefully supporting you as you made your way to the rink. Every step was a struggle, every movement a reminder of how much you had endured. But when you finally stepped onto the ice, with Satoru by your side, you felt a fleeting sense of peace.

As you skated together, every movement was a bittersweet reminder of the life you had shared, of the joy you had found in each other. Your Satoru held you close, guiding you gently across the ice, making sure you were safe while also trying to hold back his own tears.

It was a moment of fragile beauty, a final dance on the ice that captured the essence of your love and the depth of your connection. For a little while, the pain and the sadness seemed to fade, replaced by the pure joy of being together once more, on the ice where it all began. And in that moment, despite everything, you felt a profound sense of peace, knowing that you had shared one last perfect memory with the person you loved most.

As you skated together, the ice beneath your feet felt both comforting and foreign, a reminder of the many times you had danced together in the past. Satoru guided you gently, his grip firm but tender, as you moved across the rink.

“Just a little slower, hm?” he said softly, his voice a mix of concern and love. “I don’t want you to push yourself too hard.”

You nodded, trying to match his pace. “I’m okay. you whispered, though your breath was ragged. “I just… I needed this. I needed to feel… like we’re still us.”

Satoru glanced at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and affection. “I wish I could do more for you.” he said, his voice trembling. “I wish we had more time.”

You looked up at him, tears streaming down your face despite the smile on your lips. “We have now.” you said softly. “We have this moment. That’s all I need.”

He pulled you into a gentle embrace, holding you close as you skated. “I love you.” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “I love you so much."

“I love you too.” you replied, your voice barely audible as the tears continued to flow.

Satoru’s grip tightened around you, and he rested his forehead against yours. “I’m here, okay?” he whispered. “I’m always here, no matter what happens. I’ll never leave you.”

You closed your eyes, letting the moment sink in. “Thank you for doing this, for me.” you said softly. “For making this… one last memory.”

Satoru nodded, his own tears falling freely now. “I’ll always treasure this.” he said, his voice breaking. “Even if it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, I’m grateful for every moment we’ve shared. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

You stayed like that for a while, just holding each other, the world outside the rink fading away as you focused on the connection you shared. Eventually, you began to slow down, feeling the weight of exhaustion and pain.

“Let’s rest for a bit.” Satoru suggested gently. “We don’t have to do everything at once. We can take it slow.”

You nodded, letting him guide you to the edge of the rink where you both sat down, still holding each other. The cold of the ice beneath you felt soothing, a contrast to the warmth of Satoru’s embrace.

“Do you remember?” you said quietly, trying to shift the focus to happier memories, “Our first time, when we skated together?”

Satoru chuckled softly, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “How could I forget? You were so determined, even though you could barely stay upright. I think you fell more than you skated.”

You laughed, a small, bittersweet sound. “And you kept teasing me about it, but you were always there to catch me.”

“Always,” he agreed, squeezing your hand. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ll always be here to catch you.”

Satoru took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Do you remember when we first met at the rink?” he began, his voice growing softer but more steady as he spoke. “You were so nervous, and I was this cocky kid who thought he knew it all. You kept falling, but you were determined to keep going. I think that’s when I first realized how strong you were.”

You smiled faintly, imagining the scene he described. “I remember.” you whispered. “You were so annoying, but you helped me up every time I fell.”

“And you kept getting up, you would grip my hand hard too.” Satoru continued, his voice steadying as he spoke of the past. “You never gave up, no matter how many times you fell. It was inspiring. It was...It was everything."

As he spoke, your breathing became more labored, each inhale taking more effort than the last. Satoru’s voice wavered, but he continued, determined to give you this final gift of memories. You could feel it. How easily it would break into shattering tears. To see one’s heart break into a million pieces. To be the one slowly being left behind.

“I remember our first competition together, in pairs.” he said, his voice trembling with both nostalgia and emotion. “We were so nervous, but we pulled it off. I remember looking at you after our performance, seeing the pride in your eyes. That look in your eyes…. it was like the stars were before us. And it was everything to me.”

Tears streamed down your face as you listened, each word from Satoru bringing back memories of the life you had shared. “Thank you, baby.” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Thank you for everything.”

Satoru kissed your forehead gently, his own tears falling freely. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” he said softly. “I always will. No matter where you go, you’ll always be with me. I’ll carry you with me, in everything I do.”

“In another life, will you choose me again?” you whimpered softly, your voice trembling as you looked up at him. He lowered his head, tears slipping down his face, and after a moment, he raised his gaze to meet yours.

“I always will,” he replied, his voice choked with emotion. He sniffed away his tears, his grip on your hand tightening as if trying to anchor himself in the moment. “I’ll always choose you, no matter what. Even if you break my heart all the time, I’ll be yours.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as well, touched deeply by his words. “Then I’ll choose you too, baby. Even if I don’t remember, help me. Help me remember. So I can love you like this again.”

“I will,” he promised, his voice resolute despite the tears streaming down his face. “I always will. I promise.”

You leaned against him, feeling a profound sense of peace despite the pain. “Thank you, Satoru. For everything. For making these last moments together so special.”

He kissed the top of your head, holding you close. “Thank you for letting me be a part of it. For giving me this final memory with you.”

And in those last precious moments, surrounded by the warmth of Satoru’s love and the memories of a life well-lived, you found a sense of tranquility. You lean your head on his shoulders, taking one deep breath and smiling.

The pain and struggle began to fade, replaced by the profound comfort of knowing that you were loved, that you had shared something beautiful, and that even in the face of the inevitable, you were not alone. The sun had begun to rise again, on your faces. And that it’s already set in stone — Gojo Satoru will find you again. He will love you again. Over and over. No matter what.

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corruptedcaps · 2 months ago

Text

Maid for it

“Another day, another mess.” Issy muttered, pushing the door open and stepping into the dim, stale air of the nightclub. Sammy followed close behind, tying her graying hair into a loose bun.

“I don’t know how they do it.” Sammy said, squinting at the leftover chaos. Empty glasses, glittering confetti, and half-crushed cans scattered across the sleek floors. “Every weekend, they come in here acting like they own the place. No respect for anything but themselves.”

Issy snorted, picking up a crumpled cocktail napkin. “The youth of today. They think the world revolves around them. Everything’s a selfie, a status update.”

“Right? Did you see that girl last week when we were on the night shift, the one in the sparkly dress? Spent more time filming herself than dancing.” Sammy shook her head, grabbing the mop.

“Remember when we used to go out? Actually had fun without needing an audience.” Issy said grabbing a trash bag.

Sammy smiled. “Good times, Issy. Good times.”

Issy looked around the club, hands on her hips. “So, where should we start?”

Sammy, already eyeing the far end of the room, groaned. “We should flip for the bathrooms. You know they’re always the worst. I swear, they must turn into animals in there after midnight.”

Issy pulled a coin from her pocket, holding it up with a smirk. “Heads, you do the bathrooms. Tails, I’ll take the hit.”

Issy flicked the coin into the air. It spun, catching the dim light, before landing in her palm. She peeked and grimaced. “Tails. Dammit.”

Sammy chuckled. “Good luck in there. I’ll take the bar.”

With a sigh, Issy grabbed her cleaning supplies and headed toward the bathrooms. The door to the ladies’ restroom creaked open, revealing the usual chaos. Loose makeup smeared across the countertops, lipsticks rolling about, and a few forgotten articles of clothing thrown haphazardly on the floor.

“Same old, same old.” She muttered, shaking her head. As she wiped down the counter, something caught her eye. There, lying next to an abandoned sequined purse, was a black wig.

Issy barely had time to blink before the black wig sprang to life, leaping from her hands and onto her face. “What the hell—!” She gasped, stumbling backward as it crawled across her skin like a living thing.

The wig slithered up her cheeks and over her eyes, settling firmly on top of her head. She reached up to tear it off, but just as her fingers touched the strands, a sharp, sudden pain pierced her scalp, like dozens of tiny needles burrowing in.

“Ow!” Issy yelped, frantically tugging at the wig, but it was on tight, as if fused to her head. Her hands shook, and as the seconds passed, a strange warmth spread through her body. Subtle at first but soon, it grew into an intense heat, like something was shifting beneath her skin.

She stumbled toward the mirror and froze. Her wrinkled skin, the creases she had grown accustomed to over the years, began to smooth out. The sagging around her chin and eyes lifted, disappearing before her eyes. Her body shrank, her waist narrowing, her arms slimming.

Her breath caught in her throat. “What... what’s happening to me?” She whispered, her voice sounding younger, sharper.

Issy stood frozen in front of the mirror as the transformation continued. Her chest began to swell, her old bra straining as her tits grew larger, fuller, and perkier. The sight made her gasp, her hands instinctively moving to her chest, feeling the unfamiliar weight.

“Oh my god.” She groaned as her hands grasped her new sensitive boobs.

Her lips plumped next, slowly puffing out until they were full and glossy, as if she'd just had an expensive treatment. Her fingers twitched as her nails elongated into perfectly manicured, polished claws, no longer the brittle, chipped things she had grown used to. Every detail, every change, unfolded right before her eyes in the bathroom mirror.

At first, her mind raced in panic. “This isn’t right! What’s happening to me?” She could barely recognize herself. Her body was no longer that of a middle-aged woman, but something else entirely. A younger version of herself, but not even that. This version of her was more idealized, almost like one of the women she’d see strutting around the nightclub, basking in attention.

“This... feels kind of... good.” She murmured, a smile creeping across her face.

Issy’s smile widened into a full, self-satisfied smirk as she admired her reflection. She couldn’t stop staring and why would she? She was perfect. Her body was flawless, every curve exactly where it should be, her skin glowing like it had been airbrushed. Her lips curled as she traced a finger along her jawline.

“God, I’m gorgeous.” She purred, the words tasting sweet on her tongue. She tilted her head, catching the light just right, and let out a soft laugh. “No wonder those girls spend all night taking photos. If I looked like this every day, I’d never stop looking at myself.”

Her eyes gleamed as she adjusted her stance, taking on a more bratty posture. “How could anyone not be obsessed with me?” She purred, running her hands over her hips, admiring the perfect hourglass figure staring back at her. She turned, posing, admiring herself from every angle.

Now, she felt invincible, untouchable. No one could match her. Not even the sluts she cleaned up after. “I’m better than them. Better than everyone.”

Issy’s breath caught in her throat as the words echoed in her mind. “Better than everyone.” She repeated slower, taking in the gravity of the statement, the condescension of the words. She blinked, suddenly horrified by the vanity consuming her.

“What am I saying?” She whispered, shaking her head as if to clear her thoughts. This wasn’t her. She wasn’t like those girls, shallow and self-absorbed. She was… a good person, wasn’t she?

“No!” She muttered, forcing herself to look away from the mirror. Her hands shot up to her head, fingers gripping the wig. She tugged, trying to pull it off, but it wouldn’t budge. Instead, a tingling sensation crept across her skin as the hair started to defend itself by hitting her with more changes.

Her maid’s uniform tightened around her body, the fabric hugging every new curve as it shrank higher and higher, separating at the middle. The bottom part morphed into a slick, black leather skirt, clinging to her like a second skin.

The top part relaxed and in fact became bigger, becoming a luxurious and decadent, fur coat draping over her shoulders. Her sensible work bra followed in her new skirts footsteps by turning into a tight leather tube top.

Issy’s hands dropped from her head and ran over the leather, feeling the smooth texture, her fingers grazing the fur. “It’s perfect.” She said, her bratty tone returning and a smirk creeping back onto her face despite herself. She twirled, watching the coat flare out.

She looked better than any girl she had seen walk in or out of that club and the feeling was intoxicating. She knew could any wan eating out of the palm of her hand with just a look. As a maid she was invisible, but looking the way she did now who could ignore her?

And yet there was still a voice in the back of her head urging her, begging her to rip the hair off. The hair was giving her a body to die for but it was also making her more conceited and vain.

“No! This isn’t right! Ohhhh fuck but it feels sooo good! No I have to end it before it’s too late.@ she groaned.

Using what resistance she still had in her, she reached up and grabbed the hair in her hands. Her pretty nailed fingers wrapping around as many strands as possible. With one big tug she hoped it could at least come a little loose but the hair had one last card to play.

All at once Issy felt a surge of heat flow to her pussy and she felt it tighten to an extreme she didn’t know was possible. The very act was making her cum like never before, her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“Ohhhhh goddddd yessss!” She moaned loudly. Images of hot guys railing her in the very bathroom she was in filled her mind and made her cum again. She pictures herself strutting through the club like it was a buffet, choosing any man she wanted. She would be the best sec they ever had and she would make sure they spoilt her as rotten as her soul.

“Why fight it?” The thought slithered into her mind like an invader she couldn’t argue with. “I deserve this.”

Issy’s eyes rolled back to normal but there was a change instantly in them. They were no longer soft and caring eyes, instead they sparkled with spoilt narcissism. She stared at her reflection, the smirk growing wider, her eyes gleaming with pride. “Of course I fucking deserve this.” She said, the words slipping out effortlessly. She felt a surge of power, a thrill that coursed through her veins.

“I’m never going back to being some fucking loser maid again.” She declared, her voice full of conviction. The memory of her old self, ordinary and invisible, was pathetic. She sneered at the thought.

The bathroom door creaked open, and Sammy’s voice echoed off the tiles. “Issy, are you ok in here? I heard a moan of pain.” She called, her tone impatient. But as she stepped inside, she froze, her eyes going wide. “What the hell…?”

Standing in front of the mirror was a woman Sammy barely recognized. Issy, or at least what was left of her, turned slowly with a bored expression. “Relax loser, haven't you ever seen perfection before. Of course you haven’t just look at you.” She drawled, rolling her eyes.

Sammy’s jaw dropped as Issy picked up a glittering sequin bag from the counter. Unzipping it, she pulled out a thick wad of cash, a grin spreading across her face. “Look at this, my day just keeps getting better.” Issy purred.

Sammy stepped forward, her voice shaking. “Issy I don't know what happened to you, but you can't keep that cash and we need to get you help to reverse whatever the hell happened to you!”

Issy scoffed, flipping through the cash. She playfully put it up to her face like it was a telephone. “Hello police? Yes my friend put on a sexy black wig and turned in to the hottest bitch I've ever seen. Get real loser, even if there was a way to reverse this why the fuck would I want to go back to that pathetic loser I was?”

Sammy grabbed her by the arm. “Because this isn't you, Issy.”

Issy yanked her arm free, her eyes flashing. “You're right, I'm not Issy anymore. That weak, invisible woman is dead. I’m Bella now. And Bella gets everything she wants.”

Sammy’s heart raced as she backed away, her eyes darting between Bella and the door. “I’m going to find help. We’ll figure out how to take that wig off, Issy, I swear.” she said, her voice firm but shaking.

Just as Sammy reached for the door, Bella moved with lightning speed, slamming it shut with a loud bang. Sammy froze, staring at her in disbelief. “What are you doing?” She asked, fear creeping into her voice.

Bella leaned in, her eyes gleaming with a dark, twisted delight. “I can’t have anyone knowing about my wonderfully evil hair now can I? So, you’re just going to have to join me… Samantha.” She said slowly, her voice dripping with malice.

Sammy flinched at the sound of her full name, her body tensing as Bella ran her hands through her long luxurious hair, pulling thick chunks from her head that seemed to instantly regenerate. Without effort she twisted the clumps it into a sleek ponytail. Before Sammy could react, Bella flung it at her.

“No!” Sammy shrieked, trying to duck away, but the hair came to life midair, writhing and twisting like a serpent. It latched onto her arm, tightening with terrifying strength. Sammy gasped, frantically tugging at it, but the hair slithered up her arm, relentless, heading straight for her head.

“Get it off me!” She cried, her voice desperate. But Bella only smiled, cold and sinister.

“Don’t fight it, Samantha. You’ll love being a hawt bitch.” Bella purred.

Bella stood back, her arms crossed, watching with gleeful anticipation as the living hair slithered up Sammy’s arm and latched onto her head. Sammy let out a muffled scream, clawing at the strands as they dug into her scalp, but it was no use. The transformation had already begun.

Bella’s grin widened as she saw Sammy’s body start to change. Her chest swelled, her boobs growing fuller and rounder, the fabric of her cleaning uniform tightening around her frame. Sammy’s lips plumped next, growing into a pouty, perfect shape as if they had been touched by a masterful surgeon, designed to be prefect for dick sucking. Her wrinkles faded before Bella's eyes, years melting off her face as her skin smoothed into a flawless, youthful complexion.

Sammy’s body slimmed and reshaped, her figure becoming athletic and toned, curves in all the right places. Her old exhausted, middle-aged self was disappearing by the second. Bella felt a surge of satisfaction and pride watching the transformation unfold, seeing Sammy’s resistance fade.

Sammy’s eyes, once wide with panic, began to dull, her expression shifting from fear to something colder, more detached. Her lips, once trembling, now settled into a perfect, pouty smirk.

Sammy’s maid outfit began to shift, the fabric tightening and shrinking against her changing body. Her uniform morphed, the dull cloth replaced by sleek black leather that hugged her hips, forming a short, revealing skirt. Her top dissolved into a thin black string bra that left little to the imagination, her big tits barely being held by it.

A shiny black puffer coat materialized around her shoulders, draping loosely and adding a seductive edge to the ensemble.

Bella grinned in approval. “Now that’s more like it. Doesn’t that feel better, Samantha?”

Samantha turned to the mirror, her new reflection staring back with cold confidence. She ran her hands over her curves, admiring how her new clothes showed off her perfectly tight new body.

She turned to Bella, her eyes gleaming with approval. She took the cash from her friend’s hand and held it up to her face, mirroring the fake phone call Bella had done earlier. "Hello police? I want to report a crime. The crime of looking oh being a bad bitch." She said sticking her tongue out playfully.

“Thanks babe. You were right, I do love being a hawt bitch. I was meant to be this beautiful.” Samantha said, handing the cash back to Bella she turned back to her reflection. Bella sadled up next to her and the two beauties primped and admired themselves. Samantha grinned pushing her tits out at her reflection.

“We’re going to have so much fun. Imagine the broken hearts we’ll leave behind, the envious bitches watching us, desperate to keep up. We’ll show all those poser girls what it really means to be spoiled brats.” Bella said, her voice dripping with satisfaction.

Samantha chuckled, tossing her hair back. “They’ll hate us, but they’ll wish they were us.”

Bella nodded. "Of course but they never will be because we were maid for this."

THE END

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #magic #evil bitch #cc2024 #corrupted hair #maidforit

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punksocks · 1 year ago

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Astro Observations No.19

(Thank you so much for the support everyone! I appreciate you following my blog c:)

*Just based on my experiences, only take what resonates

-Starting a new relationship during Venus in retrograde is guaranteed to teach you a karmic lesson with a probably karmic partner (I’ll never forget mine oml)

-Under developed Venus ruled men/ Men with heavy Venus placements are a nightmare. Underdeveloped ones choose to be chaotic with charming energy. Like f-boys or like vampires. They just tend to run through people and use them for validation. Sometimes they grow out of it and become better. A lot of times they just get too big of an ego and get narcissistic in this energy and are just destructive.

-The house your Juno is in could be an indicator of your soulmate’s placements (ex if your Juno is in Aries your partner may have Juno in first. Or if your Juno is in 5th they may have Leo in Juno. If your Juno is in Libra they may have Juno in 7th.)

-Libra/Taurus/Venus in 1st house people can get away with such criminal behavior lol, people will never blame them or they will always want to see the best in their actions. I feel like Leo Asc/Sun in 1st can get through a lot of actions with confidence but they usually do face blow back at some point if they’re behaving badly.

-Neptune 1st house/Pisces rising will have a more erratic sort of filter applied to them. Like usually they’ll get like subconsciously softened and idealized by others but they’ll also get certain traits like air head or spacey applied to them. Basically getting elevated and infantilized the most imo.

-Having North Node in Pisces can be a murky karmic placement. I’ve found that North Node in Pisces can manifest as anything from spiritual devotion and detachment from others to lifelong addiction and reliance on substances, any path that has heavy Neptunian themes which feels like a roulette since Neptune rules over confusion.

-Mars MC can be a sex symbol placement for any gender, someone known for their body or having a striking presence.

-Venus MC is definitely someone that’s known for being a charmer at best and a player at worst. Still very good with people either way.

-MC in Scorpio can manifest as someone that’s seen as constantly going through transformations and tribulations in their career and public life. Alchemy or catastrophe, always at an extreme.

-Venus can show where you are the most appealing to others (Venus in 1st would be seen as charming and probably having a very pretty face, Venus in 2nd would been seen as luxurious and having many resources and having a pretty body, Venus in 3rd would be a very charming speaker and likely have a voice that draws in others, etc I can make a whole post on this if anyone’s curious)

-Aquarius Venus/Venus in 11th fall in love with someone unconventional, or someone they met in an unconventional way (online dating, penpal programs, stuff like that)

-I find all fixed moons have really intense emotions, they just express it in different ways (yo if you’ve ever just disagreed with an Aquarius moon you know they can get touchy if you’re not on the same page with their logic)

-Aquarius is not a great way to figure out if someone is queer imo. The connotation of being lgbtqia+ being essentially strange/out of the norm is … something already but plenty of queer icons that live with their careers/lives revolving around the queer community have no Aquarius in their charts at all (I was looking at Elvira’s chart after this Matt Baume video on YouTube about how she’s a queer icon that was elevated by the queer community and was a closeted lesbian and she turned out not to have a single Aquarius placement, a Virgo stellium and Leo placements stood out the most to me). Sappho is the asteroid to check out for wlw I’m not sure for mlm but I’m sure Greek mythology has given us a great asteroid for the mascs

-Squares to north node can present “delays” with your destiny (more so having to hone aspects of your personality, having certain experiences beforehand, and coming into your destiny later in life, Joe Biden is an interesting example of this lots of squares and harsh aspects to north node and he ran for president like 7 times before he won, even became Vice President before, so interesting)

- (TW scars, harm) Scorpio can show where you have organic scars/birthmarks (Scorpio in 1st birth marks/freckles just appear on my face) where as Pluto can show where you get scars through experiences (I have Pluto in 2nd and I got burned on the lower third of my body when my dad left me in a hot water bath as a baby :/)

#astro observations #astro notes #astroblr #astro community #leo #scorpio #midheaven #north node #venus #Neptune #Pisces #aquarius #juno #venus retrograde

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alphajocklover · 6 months ago

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Hey ! Recently, I've heard about a guy in my college, a young jock fresh from high school, that honestly acts very weirdly.

Apparently, his friends all went to local universities, while he moved all the way out to the capital, apparently in a bid to get some "elite" education. But that's not really weird, isn't it.

No, the weird thing starts at how he already acts like he's the king of uni, belittling everyone, including those like me who have been here for quite a few years, acting and even stating that he is the "alpha" of our department - as if such an outdated and so obviously false way of classifying people was even remotely correct. But then, he just goes around stating that he needs some "betas". Now, while I can imagine what they must be, those "yes-men" you see in movies accompanying the bully, I can't even begin to see how he wants to bring that to real life ! Especially since he's not in high school anymore !

Well, whatever. The real thing that creeps me out is how he seems to hang out near me weirdly often... Should that be cause for concern ?

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. I’ve only just seen your message. Hopefully there's still enough time for me to warn you. What you’ve met isn’t human. Not exactly. He’s… more.

Most teenage boys go through puberty with drastic changes. They shoot up, gain a bit of hair and possibly some muscle. Their voice deepens, and of course they get some… urges. It’s all very natural. But some teenage boys undergo a… startling transformation. They don’t just shoot up, they tower. They don’t gain a bit of hair, they grow bushes of it. Some shave it so that they can better show off their muscles, but most don’t. Muscle isn’t just possible for them, it’s inevitable. They’re bodies become beefy and hard, even without exercise, though most still become obsessed with lifting weights and getting even bigger. But what sets these boys, or rather these men, apart from the rest most are their urges. They don’t just feel the need to cum like most guys. They get the urge to dominate. The urge to show their power. The urge to fuck.

These men are what’s known as Alphas. And no, that’s not just some arbitrary classification. This isn’t some guy calling himself an alpha male because he’s an insecure Andrew Tate obsessed bitch. What you are dealing with is a real fucking Alpha. Once they were normal people like you or me, but something… awakened in them at some point. Usually during puberty, as I showed before, but it’s not impossible to have an Alpha discover his true self later in life. These men, if they can be called mere men, are bigger, stronger, more dominant than the average man. Much more dominant. So much so that the world seems to… bend to their will. I don’t know how they do it. Maybe they have some sort of special pheromones, or magic powers. But what I do know is when they want something, it just happens. If they want to be good at something, they just are. If they want to win at something, they just do. If they want the world, it’s served up to them on a silver platter with a protein shake.

And if they want you to be their Beta, you will be their Beta.

I’m not kidding. They can just.. change people. You’ve probably already seen some symptoms, in you and your friends. A sudden interest in fitness, in sports, in ‘bro culture.’ A strange growth spurt, the kind that really shouldn’t happen after puberty. An increased libido, a simpler vocabulary. And most of all, a great admiration for your Alpha. Not just admiration, a deep love. A need to do what he says, be what he says. Once those feelings start it’ll be too late to save you. Soon you’ll be nothing more than his Beta. Everything about you will revolve around what they want.

It’s not the worst fate in the world. Most people think that if a horny Alpha could do whatever they want to you, you’d end up a brainless sex doll. But more often than not what they really want is a bro. Or, more accurately, they want bros. Alphas are so competitive that they rarely are able to spend extended periods of time together. It’s like having two leaders of a pack. Eventually they end up locking horns. So they find, or rather make, Beta bros for them to hang out with. Big, but not as big as their Alpha. Sexy, but not hot enough to take any pussy away from the Alpha. Cool but not cool enough to take any attention away from the Alpha. There are some differences based on what the Alpha wants. Some Betas are stoners, some are jocks, some are surfers and some are skaters. It all depends on the Alphas personal aesthetic and taste. But Betas are all muscular, horny, hung, and completely subservient to their Alphas.

If you’re lucky, you can get out. Move somewhere far away, and forget about all of this. If you’re lucky the Alpha won’t care enough to go after you. You can keep your identity and sense of self intact.

But if you’re not lucky? If you’re too far under his influence? If your Alpha has taken a liking to you and won’t let you go? Well…

… be grateful you’re his Beta bro and not his Beta bitch.

**3 post in 2 days! I feel like I’m on fire! Guess I’m just very motivated to write recently. Anyways I hope you guys liked this one! Hope mentioning Andrew Tate wasn’t too political. I hate to let irl politics ruin my online fun. Enjoy!**

#jock tf #jock transformation #jockification #muscle growth tf #nerd to jock #Alpha with a capital A #muscle tf

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knifeeater · 5 months ago

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'no one has painted me in four hundred years' vs 'you caught the soul he is hiding' re louis' photograph. a blurred image, almost accidental brush against something true, containing a shared haunting that escapes the photographic paper. armand is someone who has been violently shaped in the form his abuser(s) wanted him to be, immortalizing him in and as an idealized picture. having learned to shape himself for someone to be loved/cared for and doing so by shaping himself after those he wants to belong with, internalizing the coven rules, picking up a persona from lestat, becoming a mirror for louis. maybe love is in great part to be seen for who you are, for someone to see through the mask you put on for the world. 'for the first time in my life, i was seen'. louis seeing through the charade of the well dressed gentleman (and not quite that of the one made weak by love). this way of seeing and discovering a world of potentiality in the eyes of the beloved for transformation and newness is what allows armand ultimately to be vulnerable. 'who am i'. tell me who i am, who i can be.

claudia on the other hand is not allowed this kind of openness. she is trapped in the image of louis' child like she is trapped in her body like she is trapped in the role of little lou. this is why louis still excludes her from the conversation around their safety regarding armand & the coven. this is why armand traps her in the doll costume, ensuring his own prophecy will come true, 'her mind [...] will break apart in time'. another cycle takes its turn. madeleine begins to see claudia, in the three-parted mirrors, as a three dimensional, multi-faceted person. out of her costume, joint act of adjusting a dress to something that fits her better, image of a woman grown. claudia works hard on creating something new for herself but again and again she's thwarted, shoved back into old images, which revolve around the use she can have for other people - the bandaid, the audience darling, 'the girl who moves a million books'. crafting a backstory one abuser can stand in for another. their methods always stay the same.

#essentially armand sees himself in claudia - but that's just another projection. images mise-en-abyme #iwtv #iwtv spoilers #interview with the vampire #vampterview #knives

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lefteagleblizzard · 5 months ago

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𝕳𝖎𝖉𝖉𝖊𝖓 𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖊𝖘

Derek Danforth x gn reader

Summary: you and Derek run away together with fake identities to start a new and more simple life together.

Warnings: no pronouns used towards the reader. Smut. Riding. Sex on a plane. Fake identities. Fake marriage. Derek being soft exclusively to reader. This is the continuation for the miniseries of one shots I wrote for Derek that you can find on my masterlist but, just like the others, can be read as a one shot. Enjoy

Part 2 of this!

Words count: almost 5000

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

You wake up in Derek's bed, the memories of the passionate night you shared still vividly replaying in your mind. The warmth of his presence lingers on the sheets, but he is nowhere to be found. Wrapping yourself in one of Derek's colorful shirts to cover your naked body, you begin searching for him, a sense of unease gnawing at you.

The mansion is eerily silent, the only sound is your bare feet padding softly on the floor. You navigate through the corridors, passing by different rooms until you find Derek in his office, the sharp tone of his voice cutting through the silence.

He's on the phone, yelling about an assassin who seems to be relentlessly hunting him down. The look on his face is one of extreme anger and paranoia, his eyes darting around as if expecting danger to strike at any moment. His usual composed demeanor is replaced by a stressed and agitated man on the edge.

"Get me someone competent this time!" Derek shouts into the phone, his voice breaking with frustration. "I don't care how much it costs, just get it done!"

You approach him slowly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Derek, it's going to be okay" you whisper, trying to console him in the best way you can. He turns to look at you, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and desperation. You've never seen him like this, so vulnerable, so exposed.

"Do you even understand what's happening?" he snaps, his anger momentarily redirected at you.

In his drugged-up and paranoid state, Derek begins to confess. He spills the truth about his elaborate scheme: stealing money to finance his mother's campaign, manipulating her rise to power, and using her connections to secure more business deals for himself. He vents about his problematic relationship with his mother, the constant pressure to succeed, and this beekeeper who seems unstoppable in his quest to see Derek dead.

You listen intently, your heart aching for the man you've come to love despite his many flaws. His wrath never seems to subside, and at one point, Derek's face twists into a mask of anguish, and his hand trembles as he reaches into the desk drawer.

Before you can react, he pulls out a revolver, the cold metal glinting in the dim light. Your heart skips a beat, and your breath catches in your throat.

"Derek, what are you doing?" you ask, your voice shaking.

He points the gun at you, his eyes wild, with a mix of anger and fear. "Would you betray me? Would you save yourself and leave me to this fucking beekeeper?"

The question hangs in the air, heavy and suffocating. You see the desperation in his eyes, the stress that has pushed him to this point. Your initial shock quickly transforms into a profound sadness as you realize just how deeply this situation is affecting him.

Tears begin to well up in your eyes as you hesitantly take a step forward. Derek's hand shakes, but he doesn't lower the gun. You can see the internal struggle playing out on his face, the fear of betrayal mingling with the fear of being alone.

With a trembling breath, you step closer until the barrel of the gun is pressed against your forehead. The cold metal sends a shiver down your spine, but you hold your ground. "Derek, I would rather die with you than betray you" you say, your voice breaking with emotion. Tears stream down your face as you look into his eyes, hoping to reach the man you love behind the fear and paranoia.

For a moment, time stands still. The room is filled with a tense silence, the only sound the ragged breaths coming from both of you. Then, something shifts in Derek's expression. His eyes soften, the anger and fear melting away to reveal a deep sorrow.

Slowly, he lowers the gun, his hand shaking violently. "I'm sorry" he whispers, tears glistening in his eyes.

You take the gun from his hand and place it on the desk, then wrap your arms around him in a tight embrace.

You feel his body tremble against yours, the weight of his actions and the stress of his situation bearing down on him. You stroke his back soothingly, whispering words of comfort and love.

"Derek, we need to think clearly," you say softly "You can't stay here. You need to leave. Go somewhere safe and leave no trace behind”

He looks at you, the fear still evident in his eyes. He contemplates the idea, his mind racing with possibilities. Ultimately, he agrees, giving you instructions to arrange a private flight while he secures a new identity for him.

You leave his office to start preparing everything. Using Derek's network of contacts, you manage to secure a private jet. You work swiftly ensuring that no trace of your plans can be detected.

Meanwhile, Derek makes a call to a trusted associate, arranging for fake documents and a new identity. His usual confidence and arrogance are tempered by the gravity of the situation, and you can see the strain taking its toll on him.

When Derek is ready to go, he asks you to come with him. At first, you think it's because you're the only one who knows where he's headed. You were partially true for that but he added more to justify his sudden request. "Come on, don’t leave me alone in this. Let’s start a new life together. Like it or not you’re in as much trouble as me.”

You've always been there for him. Know him well enough to intervene when needed, when to calm him down and, on top of that, you were hot.

It would be such a shame for him to lose such an incredible person like you for god knows how fucking long.

Your mind races with thoughts of the future. Could you really leave everything behind and start a new life after everything you’ve been through? With Derek out of all people? The idea fills you with both hope and fear.

Mickey was already dead. You stand no chance against this crazy man. Let’s not risk your life and make the fun choice at this point.

You agree to go with him. He asks his contact to prepare a new identity for you as well, and soon you are ready to leave your old lives behind.

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The departure was imminent. You and Derek were poised for escape, but there was one last crucial task that you wanted to do: erasing all digital traces of presence. The thought of being seen on surveillance tapes, the possibility of anyone tracking your movements, made your heart race. You need to delete the recordings from the hours you and Derek were seen, or everything will be useless.

“I’ll be right back” you whispered to his ear before sprinting inside the still desolated building.

You approached the door with a practiced calm, though your pulse was anything but steady. The tools in your hand felt heavier than usual. The quiet of the early morning amplifies every sound you make.

You picked the lock with surprising ease, the years of working alongside Derek giving you more skills than you had ever realized. The door clicked open, and you slipped inside, the dimly lit room casting shadows on the walls.

The computer area was a maze of desks and screens, the soft hum of machinery was the only sound breaking the silence. You moved quickly to the main terminal, your fingers flying over the keyboard as you navigated the system. Each second felt like an eternity, your anxiety mounting as you watched the progress bar inch closer to completion.

A noise behind you made you freeze, your breath catching in your throat. You glanced around, but the room was empty. You shook your head, scolding yourself for being paranoid. Still, the feeling that someone was watching you wouldn't go away.

With a final keystroke, the last of the recordings were erased. Relief washed over you, but it was short lived. You couldn't shake the feeling of being followed, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

Quick, act fast.

You quickly accessed the airline database, your decent skills with computers coming in handy. You found a cheap flight and replaced the seats of a couple with yours and Derek's names. It was a diversion, a way to throw off anyone who might be tracking you. Hopefully, it would buy you enough time to get away clean.

As you moved to leave, the sound of the door opening loudly made your blood run cold. You dove under a nearby desk, your heart pounding so hard you were sure it could be heard. The room was dark, but the light from the hallway cast long shadows. Footsteps echoed through the space, słow and deliberate. You pressed yourself further into the shadows, barely daring to breathe.

The footsteps grew closer, pausing near the desk where you were hiding. You bit your lip to stifle any sound, your mind racing. Was it this relentless Beekeeper, or just someone else in the wrong place at the wrong time? The uncertainty was maddening.

Minutes felt like hours as you remained hidden, every creak and rustle amplified in the dark. The footsteps eventually moved away but you waited, counting each breath, until you were sure the person had left. Your muscles ached from the tension, but you couldn't afford to relax yet.

You carefully crawled out from under the desk, your movements slow and deliberate. The room was still, but you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. You edged towards the door, every nerve on high alert. The hallway outside was empty, but you knew better than to trust appearances.

Slipping into the corridor, you blended into the growing crowd of people. The airport was starting to come alive with the first travelers of the day, and you moved among them, doing your best to appear inconspicuous. Your heart was still racing, the fear of being caught making every step feel precarious.

You didn't dare to look back, the anxiety gnawing at you. The feeling of being followed persisted, but you pushed it down, focusing on the task at hand. The airport was now open, the bustle of activity providing some semblance of cover. You made your way to the rendezvous point, hoping Derek was already there.

The crowd was your shield, the noise and movement giving you a sense of security. You kept your head down, avoiding eye contact, adjusting from time to time your sunglasses to keep your hand occupied. Every instinct screaming at you to keep moving.

The relief you felt upon spotting Derek was overwhelming, his familiar figure hidden carefully among the throng of strangers.

It was strange seeing him dressed all black for once, but you for sure were not complaining. That leather jacket looked good on him.

"Let's go, you whispered, slipping your hand into his. He squeezed it reassuringly, his presence calming your fraved nerves.

As you moved through the airport, the fear began to fade, replaced by a grim determination. Whether the person in the computer room had been the assassin or just a figment of your paranoia, you couldn't be sure. But one thing was certain: you and Derek were in this together, and nothing would stop you from finding a way out.

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The private jet you and Derek are in is a masterpiece of luxury and design. The interior boasts plush leather seats, dark mahogany accents, and soft ambient lighting that creates a warm, intimate atmosphere. The hum of the engines is a distant whisper, making the cabin a serene escape from the chaos left behind.

You sit together in a spacious lounge area, leaning against Derek, feeling the warmth of his body through his shirt. He sips scotch from the mini-bar, the amber liquid catching the light as he swirls it in his glass. You nestle closer to him, drawing comfort from his presence despite the tension that still lingers in the air.

The seats are wide and comfortable, upholstered in buttery leather. The bar is stocked with top-shelf liquor, and the faint scent of citrus and cedar fills the air, creating an ambiance of calm sophistication,

You trace a finger along the scam of the leather armrest, letting the silence settle before you turn to him, a teasing glint in your eye.

Derek takes another sip of his scotch, his fingers tightening slightly around the glass as if the act of holding it grounds him, you can see the tension in his eyes.

You scrunch your nose playfully, trying to lift his spirits.

"Honestly, I think our new last name is a bit ugly. And the picture they used for my new ID is awful."

He showed you the information a couple of hours ago but only now had you paid attention to them.

He chuckles, the sound a bit rough, but there's genuine amusement there. "You look good in any picture. But if it makes you feel better, we can take new ones when we're settled.”

You smile, feeling a flutter of warmth at his compliment, but there's a question you need to ask. "Why did you want me to come with you? I mean, really?"

Derek's expression hardens for a moment, his defenses rising. He takes a deep breath, looking away as if considering how much to reveal. “That fucking Beekeeper would have probably tortured you to know where I went" he says, his tone a mix of seriousness and flirtation, "And let's be real, we both know how little it takes to make you beg”

You lightly hit him on the chest, unable to suppress your laughter. "You're such an idiot" you say, shaking your head, but your heart feels lighter.

The momentary levity fades as you notice the stress lines still etched on his face. His eyes, though filled with a of emotions, show a vulnerability you've rarely seen. Determined to soothe him, you climb onto his lap. His eyes immediately move to your face, filled with a mixture of surprise and appreciation.

You stroke his check tenderly your thumb brushing against the stubble. "It's going to be okay. We're in this together, and we'll figure it out one step at the time”

“We have a chance to start over, to build something real." He looks at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and uncertainty "Do you really believe that we can leave it all behind?"

"I do," you say firmly. "We can make a new life together, free from the past and ready to do whatever we want”

He closes his eyes for a moment, leaning into your touch. "You always know what to say" he murmurs.

The leather seats creak softly under your combined weight, a subtle reminder of the luxury that envelops you. But in this moment, all that matters is the closeness, the raw need to erase the anxiety and fear that have plagued Derek.

Your fingers trace the line of his jaw, feeling the slight roughness of his stubble, a tactile reassurance of his presence, his reality. Derek's eyes, usually sharp and calculating, now reflect a tempest of emotions-vulnerability, longing, and a deep, unyielding need for connection.

As your lips meet again, the kiss deepens, becoming a fervent dance of tongues and breaths, each movement a testament to the desperation to find solace in each other. Your bodies press closer, the heat between you rising, a conflagration of pent-up emotions seeking release.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathless. He looks a you dead in the eyes and makes his demand crystal clear. “Distract me.”

You felt something poking your butt and a smirk slowly grow on your face.

A leopard never changes its spots, after all.

Your clothes become a barrier, an unnecessary hindrance to the communion you both seek. Piece by piece, they are discarded, falling away like the masks you wear in the outside world. Each touch, each caress, is imbued with a profound intensity, a silent promise of devotion and understanding. Derek's hands roam over your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, his touch both a comfort and a spark to the flames of your desire.

Derek's hand trails languidly up and down your back, each pass a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. His touch is both tender and possessive, a silent affirmation of his need for you. His fingers splay against your back, pulling you closer, eliminating any space between you. You can feel every inch of him, the solid strength of his thighs beneath yours, the muscle of his arms as they wrap around you, holding you as if you are his lifeline.

As you straddle him, your bodies move in a synchronized dance, a rhythm as ancient as time itself. The jet's confined space amplifies every sound, every whispered moan, turning them into a symphony of shared pleasure and solace. Your movements become more urgent, a physical manifestation of your emotional need to become one, to find sanctuary in each other's embrace.

His skin is hot to the touch, a testament to the fire burning between you. He watches you with eyes darkened by desire, his breaths coming in shallow pants.

Your hands find the waistband of his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping them with practiced ease. You can feel the growing hardness beneath the fabric, a clear indication of his arousal. He lifts his hips slightly, allowing you to slide his pants and underwear down, freeing him completely. The sight of him, fully exposed, sends a thrill through you, a potent mix of anticipation and longing.

You shift, positioning yourself over him, feeling the heat of his arousal against your inner thigh. His hands find your hips, guiding you as you lower yourself onto him. The initial contact is electric, a spark that ignites into a full-blown inferno as you sink down, taking him fully inside you. A gasp escapes your lips, the sensation overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and fullness.

For a moment, you remain still, savoring the connection, the feeling of being completely joined with him. Derek's hands grip your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he struggles to maintain control. You can see the strain in his eyes, the way his jaw clenches with the effort.

Then you begin to move, slowly at first, finding a rhythm that sends waves of pleasure coursing through both of you. The friction is exquisite, every movement a deliberate act of love and desire. You ride him with increasing fervor, your bodies moving in perfect synchrony, a dance as old as time itself.

Derek's hands roam your body, his thumb brushing over your nipple, sending jolts of pleasure through you. The other hand moves to the small of your back, guiding your movements, urging you on. You lean forward, bracing your hands on his shoulders, your breaths mingling as you move together.

The sensations build, a crescendo of pleasure that threatens to overwhelm you. You can feel the tension coiling in your abdomen, a tight knot of anticipation and need. Derek's breathing grows ragged, his hands gripping you tighter, his hips thrusting upward to meet your movements.

With a final, powerful thrust, the tension breaks, and you are both swept away in a wave of ecstasy. Your body trembles, convulsing with the force of your climax, and you cry out, the sound a raw, primal expression of your release. Derek follows moments later, his grip on you tightening as he finds his own release, his body shuddering beneath yours while he fills you up.

As the waves of ecstasy wash over you both, there is a profound sense of release, a catharsis that leaves you trembling in each other's arms.

Your fingers trail down his face, your touch lingering as you lean in. The kiss starts gently, but quickly grows more passionate, fueled by the emotions that have been running high. His hands grip your waist, pulling you closer. The world outside the jet feels like a distant memory as you focus entirely on the man holding you.

When he finally pulls back, his eyes are soft yet intense, filled with a depth of emotion that leaves you breathless.

You find a moment of perfect unity. Derek's eyes lock onto yours, and in that gaze, you see everything: his fears, his love, his desperation to hold onto this moment, to you.

You feel a flutter in your chest at the intensity of his stare. Something that wasn’t for once pure lust and desire.

He found the person he wanted to be with for the rest of his fucked up life.

“Get up” he ordered.

Confused and reluctant, you get up, watching as he starts looking for something in the small space. At first, you think he's succumbing to his paranoia again, searching for hidden listening devices. But then he turns back to you, a small box in his hand.

"I didn't tell you this before" he says, his voice taking on a cocky edge that you’ve known well enough “but with our new identities, we're already married." He opens the box, revealing a beautiful ring. "Thought you might want to wear this."

Your breath catches as you look at the ring, the light catching on the intricate design. He slides it onto your finger, his touch gentle but sure. "Consider it official" he says with a smirk, his eyes never leaving yours.

Of course he did it.

A married couple might appear more credible to outsiders. People tend to trust couples, assuming they have a stable relationship. This credibility can help you two navigate situations where you’ll need to prove your identities.

Being married can offer legal advantages, as potentially having access to each other’s health insurance.

Pretending to be a married couple would allow you two to share responsibilities convincingly. You could claim joint ownership of property, share household chores, and explain your presence in a new location.

It was all strategic but your heart was still overwhelmed by joy at the fact that you now had this connection with him, now that everyone will consider you two married, together till death separates you.

Your rationality was forgotten on the road as your feelings took over entirely.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you look at him sitting down on his seat. "Derek, I-"

You can't help but laugh, a mixture of relief and joy bubbling up inside you while you roll the ring with your thumb. "You'll never change, will you?" you say, shaking your head.

He pulls you back into his lap, his arms wrapping around you. "And you love it" he murmurs against your ear, his breath warm on your skin.

"We're in this together," he says again, more firmly this time. "And nothing is going to change that."

You nod, a smile breaking through the tears. "Together."

Derek pulls you into a passionate kiss, scaling the promise of a new beginning.

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The next few hours pass in a blur as you and Derek finalize your plans.

When you landed, it was under the cover of night. The air was crisp, the world around you silent and still. Derek's contact met you, handing over the new documents that would solidify your new identities. You land in a remote location, far from the prying eyes of the media and Derek's enemies.

A safe house has been arranged, a secluded villa nestled in a quiet coastal town. It's a stark contrast to the lavish lifestyle you’ve grown accustomed to, but the simplicity brings a sense of peace you didn't know you needed.

Days turn into weeks as you and Derek adjust to your new lives. The fear of being discovered lingers, but the tranquility of your surroundings provides a welcome respite. Derek's paranoia slowly fades away, replaced by a cautious optimism.

Derek was different here, the weight of his past gradually lifting as he embraced the anonymity and simplicity of your new life.

Your relationship with your ‘husband’ deepens in this new environment. The bond you share is strengthened by the trials you've endured together. The more time you spend with him, the more you understand the complexities of his character. Beneath the layers of deceit and manipulation lies a man who has been shaped by circumstances beyond his control, driven by a desire to prove himself and gain his mother's approval.

As the weeks turn into months, you and Derek continue to settle into your new lives. The fear of discovery never completely disappears, but it fades into the background as you focus on building your future together.

Derek takes on a new project, using his business acumen to help improve local entrepreneurs, while you find fulfillment in volunteering at a community center.

Now, you stand on the balcony of your secluded villa, the cool breeze carrying the scent of salt and the distant melody of the ocean. Derek stands beside you, a glass of scotch in his hand, the moonlight casting a silver glow on his features.

"You know '' Derek begins, his voice carrying a note of disdain, "these people have no idea how to run a business. They stumble around, thinking they can manage with their outdated methods and lack of foresight. It's almost laughable”

You can't help but chuckle, the sound mingling with the rhythmic crash of shaking your head. His arrogance and confidence never disappeared, and it’s always quite endearing.

"Oh, Derek," you say this time, “you'd learn to appreciate the charm of simplicity with time, don’t worry."

He smirks, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Charm? There's nothing charming about inefficiency: Did you see how that baker runs his shop? No marketing strategy, no expansion plans. It's a miracle he's still in business." He makes use of his beloved vape, blowing the smoke in your direction.

"True" you reply leaning against the balcony railing and waving your hand around to get rid of the smoke, "but some people are content with with what they have”

Derek takes a sip of his scotch, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the sea meets the sky "Contentment is just another word for complacency. They don't realize how much more they could achieve with a little ambition.” You smile, reaching out to touch his arm. "Not everyone has your drive, Derek. And maybe that's okay”

He turns to you, his expression softening as he places his hand over yours, playing softly with your ring.

Derek sighs deeply, his gaze turning back to the ocean, "Do you remember the first time we came here?" his voice softer now. "How I complained about the lack of five-star service and high-speed internet?" He asks

You laugh, the memory vivid in your mind. "Yes, and I remember how you almost turned the car around when you saw the dirty road leading to the villa. And the face that you made oh my god-”

You couldn’t continue due to your incessant laughs, covering your face with both of your hands to suppress the sounds.

He chuckles as well, a rare sound that warms your heart. "It's amazing how much has changed. I never thought I'd be able to live without the constant hustle and bustle of the city.”

You nod, resting your head on his shoulder. "I think we both needed this. A chance to start over, to find out who we are without all the noise."

"I talk about us all the time, you know, to anyone who will listen. The locals must think I'm crazy, always going on about how much I love you.” You laugh again, a bright, joyful sound. "And they probably think I'm just as crazy for putting up with you."

“By the way, you gotta stop doing that” you pointed a finger at his direction with a fake threatening tone “everyone keep saying how lucky I am to have a husband like you”

“Why? We need to let everyone know how happy we are together” he countered with a playful tone. He leaned forward and trapped you in a tight grip in his arms, prepping your face with multiple and chaste kisses as your laughs never stopped.

The light and wholesome moment soon came to an end, the peace and sound of the waves return.

Derek is silent for a moment, then he turns to look at you, his expression serious. "Do you ever regret it? Leaving everything behind, starting fresh?"

You shake your head slowly, "No, Derek. Not for a second. Being here with you, away from all the corruption and lies... it's the best decision I ever made. Even if it's hard sometimes.”

“Thank you” he whispered so softly you almost didn’t hear it under the sound of the waves.

"Always," you reply softly. "I'll always love you, Derek."

You lean in and kiss him, a promise of the future you will build together. As you pull away you rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. For the first time in a long time, you feel a sense of peace.

Your life, though imperfect, stood as a testament to the power of second chances. Both you and your lifelong partner will seize every moment granted by the latter half of your journey.

Note: thanks for reading. This was so fun to write, let me know if you liked this one. It's definitely one of my favorites that I wrote

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neonfretra · 2 months ago

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does anyone want to discuss hrpf outside of shipping + written fic context . because i think about where what i do sits in relation to it all

for brevity i will be referring to the real person as the player and the fictionalized interpretation of the player as the character

to get things outta the way, i dont think theres very much you can say about real life people before you start crossin into real person fiction (rpf) territory LOL

transformative art is rpf. speculation is rpf. narratives is rpf. the second you start steppin away from a direct relay of the facts as is, we gettin in ficticious waters IMO. its really a neutral thing to me and my ethics begin and end at "dont show people who dont wanna see"

and its real funny to think about how i do art just because it feels like i set up way less barriers compared to people who DO write fic . i see all this talk about making sure you make your stuff login exclusive, about not sharin it to the people involved, disclaimers about how its in fact NOT a reflection of reality that your favorite athlete is mpregnant and YOU are are mfather.

and i just hit post and call it a day LOL

TO BE CLEAR there is definitely layers to it in the sense that i see similar amounts of caution with say ship art or certain degrees of raunch.

shipping in the rpf scene is funny to me in the sense of the tendency to treat shipping as THE exclusive rpf thing. like no i dont think my tomas tatar fanart is 1:1 on the reality front either. for example, nj devils hairline is not that far back and thags the only inaccuracy.

heres the kicker: mmy foot.

most of my doodles tend to evoke a degree of characterization or narrative. yeag maybe its a little less 30k slowburn and a little more fabian zetterlund shot putting a man but. that is fictional, that is a character

im not saying that rpf defines players more than the reality of them does but i do believe it does enforce certain views

in the spaces i hang around ive noticed the narrativization around certain characters being part fueled by the information that is filtered by reporters and part interpretations bounced back and forth by fandom . and when you have eyes on a story, its easy to pick out information solely as it agrees with you

maybe the most prominent narrative ive seen for the sharks has been macklin celebrini having a jock dad -> therefore he got daddy issues, joe thornton houses him -> therefore mentor and father figure joe thornton? where even though i havent seen any direct relay of information from any players (though ivent been looking LOL) a lot of the discussion around it revolves around this common understanding that it just is (the funnier part is arguably that will smith hockey has been doing more for this narrative for patrick marleau BUT NEITHER HERE NOR THERE.)

and its really interesting to note HOW fandom warps or weaves the story by going off common tropes or dynamics to make sense of the public facing parts we do see, which is what i think is magnified through the lens of fanworks but not (necessarily) CREATED by fanworks

which is where i feel my work is part of the. ecosystem??? life cycle??? and then we all return to the dirt and the worms eat us???

how much or how little we define the gap between player and character changes from person to person. i simply do not have that goin on here. devin cooley eats joey daccords hair take it or leave it. annnnd main tag that

other times i feel we wear the divide thin are when there is headcanon that uses facts about the player (ie a lot of ship talk) or when the character becomes the kneejerk understanding of the player (ie liveblogs. very fun way to get a read of a communitys feelings on something because of how immediate the reactions on it are)

the point of this post isnt to shame or interrogate people about participating in rpf, im not looking for those sort of feelings, im fascinated by fandom culture as a twig off the old branch and i would love to hear other perspectives on the same topic (and different communities! i dont have much involvement in fic. which is. a massive hole in my perspective on this probably)

is it possible to cross the line from rpf to plain old original content LOL (the answer is intent i know but. walk with me here its fun to think about)

naturally theres a degree of "original character" to every depiction . you gotta make up some amount of it. theres no clear separation OF rpf and original content because everything is about borrowing. you make characters with inspiration from other things. its near enough universal for someone who deals with characters to have at some point lifted a character directly out of their original context and made them their own.

its not just their face or name or some other physical attribute that makes it rpf id also argue because i have seen people using attributes of real people as "claims" for origubal characters (like a "faceclaim" to say "this is how i imagine my character to look")

on top of that there is fluctuating interest on actually depicting the player, with approaches that i have heard of ranging from "character that shares the quantitative aspects of the player and thats IT" to "character that was made heavily referencing to things the player has said/done"

its interesting when certain players in rpf have a consistent character! which trends to be in teams with a more active rpf oriented fanbase (vs interest mainly in the real life hockey played), comparing the fandom of kraken to the golden knights on tumblr for instance. its also interesting to note that more popular teams just have more rpf centric leans. because there are more people to write rpf. i mean also we are on a fandom centric site and rpf bridges that gap from narrative/character fueled media and sportsball more LOL

(if you like sports from a purely sports oriented angle do you enjoy watching it? genuine question. because at what point is it "i could just be doing this myself" because ive hit that point with other things before LMAO)

i do call the difference being more "fandom" oriented but IDK if thats correctly using the word or just less syllables. and on top of that i cant exactly tell you if its popularity or stand out personality that holds more sway. though then again i guess those two traits arent separate from each other necessarily. or even that those are the only two factors to broad appeal (probably popularity with another player is up there. but im not trying to find a formula for most attractive to make rpf of)

to return to the kraken because that is the most rpf oriented team i follow, i do notice when players portrayed consistently. i can definitely tell you like. one or two character traits about players i do not follow the media of solely from liveblogs and art. complexity of the character varies by a lot, though i do think its interesting to consider the hows and whys.

a trait or interest being highlighted by media (i tend to see this in offical media coverage that gets spread by jokes) -> the character heavily revolves around this feature in jokes or casual reference, with heavy personal interpretation

media pushing a narrative by following a more cohesive timeline or story structure (i usually see this in fanworks. easier to identify the influence of IMO) -> fairly consistent character backstory or , at least in the broad strokes of it

just general agreements about tropes that are appealing with little basis on the player -> this is usually the more relationship focused character interpretation

there isnt usually just one factor (and this isnt an exhaustive list of factors) to one characters history. unless its a super new player on the radar.

its definitely a character that belongs to the fandom! as in the unique character to the unique community! its actually really funny how they evolve. you could probably fingerprint someones influences if you tried hard enough. with how new the kraken is (and the fact the fandom leans more towards being united as one body than any other team ive seen so far) it does get pretty easy to get it down to the post but. do your own treasure search. I wont deprive you!

(also its EMBARASSING... what if the people i mention SEE... im SHY...)

harder with an older fandom like the sharks there are so many dead and defunct sources or jokes so widely spread that it gets hard to locate the origin . because dead and defunct sources. though i think its growing a new ring around the fandom tree because of the newer players! so its a thought. to think about how different events influence the size and activity of a fanbase and to ask how different fans from different. eras? of a fanbase interact (or dont).

again i notice this in the sharks fandoms by comparing fans from the playoff contending sharks era (last playoff season was 18-19? start is a little murky but ill toss out that 2012 was the year tomas hertl was drafted because tomas hertl was an era of the sharks LOL a whole 12 years! i know people younger than his professional career and those people are catching up to me in height. humbling!) and fans from when the sharks were very much not playoff contending (quite an amount of the current active fans LOL). not sure if theres much to say without looking stupid. different jokes, notable players, friend groups, feelings towards other teams. all still feel very strongly about general manager mike grier scattering players like dandellion seeds to the wind.

(AGAIN. HOPING NO SHARKS FANS NOTICE THIS. IM SHY)

how many sharks fans havent seen logan couture on ice

again i am saying all this as someone who ACTIVELY participates in this BTW!!! does anyone notice that players i dont know definitely have a flatter "whatever is the funniest thing to say" angle . or that characters of players i know a few things about have like one punchline . or even that certain characters are consistent and not just bound by direct interpretations of one moment (which i do a lot of when im liveblogging) (dont get your hopes up for anything new here, the character usually is "pathetic and a little bit of a bastard")

i keep writing these disclaimers like. if someone disagreed this strongly they would not be reading this far. hi! is anyone still here. is someone still reading.

i have created life and i dont know to kill it.

i talk about one of my depictions of a player as a separate character (that is to say, a SEPARATE character from the character intended to represent the player) and i have NO idea if this is like. an OC? a defamation case in waiting? my spawn? do i have to pay childcare. does anyone know who or what im talking about or has the character been festering in my mind like an infection.

is it just me???

my advice to you: if you dont want somethin to come back dont give it a name.

consider dissecting your personal and the more widespread fandoms take on players and characters! its fun for me but i also just like taking things apart ^_^ i fear i may not be as analytical as this post demands i do a lot of restating information and thats it

#neon etcetra #sorry if this is wildly disconnected or repetitive #im like writing a few sentences every few days LMAO #hello! i am about to post this! i think this was over the course of over a week #i chip very slowly at my thoughts that cannot be summed up in one joke

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