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myownwholewildworld · 12 hours ago

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OKAY SO… where do i even begin with this?! i think i might have gone into arousal shock (is that a thing? must be) after reading this MASTERPIECE, odi. like the way you set the pace, the back and forth, how reader was adamant at first that she just wouldn’t be “another one”… UGGGHHHH it hit all the right spots for me!! also, your writing is so immersive, i was right there in the party and then in the bar with them. you write so beautifully i can only aspire to be like you one day when i grow up 😭 the dynamic between them was so natural, i can only say THAT MUST BE LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT. can’t convince me otherwise!

so, without any further ado, let me dive in because I HAVE THOTS i need to let out before i pass out!

Javier danced his way onto the makeshift stage in front of your bestie, spinning his hat off and tossing it with a flourish into the crowd. Almost causing a fight between a few of the women to break out.

YUP, that’d be me. i’d be fighting wars on a muddy pitch just to grab his hat!!!

Javier stood unabashed and grinning in a leopard-print thong that left very little to the imagination.

HOWLING TO THE FUCKING MOON YOU DID THATTTTT omfg someone sedate me RIGHT ABOUT NOW I’M BEGGING YOU

the way i pictured this instantly, i ain’t joking i think at this point i started running a fever???

Your pulse fluttered wildly as he worked the crowd, making his way closer, dancing toward you.

i don’t know how reader kept it together, i would of died right there and then. like he’s DIABOLICAL FOR DANCING HIS WAY TO HERRR ASDSFKDÑLKJ

“Oh, I don’t think you’re good. Not yet, anyway.” He leaned closer, his voice just for you now. “But I’m more than happy to change that.”

HAHHHHAHHHHAHALJLADJA BYE. the fact that she stood her ground?? she’s the strongest of us all. kudos to her honestly.

“I don’t bite.” He winked. “Not unless you ask nicely.”

gnawing at the walls of my fucking coffin right now. i wouldn’t have asked, i would have begged.

the whole text exchange had me on a chokehold because that man was on a mission he was not about to lose. he knows what he wants and he gets itttttt ugh to be chased by a man like that, DREAM. and when he sends her his pic saying that he’s feeling lonely? DAMN RIGHT HE KNOWS WHAT HE’S DOING. also loved when they are at the bar and Javi opens up about being a DEA agent letting her see some of his real self? like, yeah. he’s down bad, i knew at this point this couple was meant to be. i’ll die on this hill.

“Guess you’ll have to stick around to find out,” you replied. His smile was slow, almost lazy. “Careful, sweetheart. I just might take you up on that.”

HAHHAHJAHAGTYWIWM,. i was about to fight if he didn’t go into the room, extremely relieved he did.

“Do me a favor,” he whispered. “Touch yourself. Just a little.”

ODI, YOU- YOU BEAUTIFUL SOUL 😭 from this point on i just completely lost my shit and i was a trembling bundle of nerves throughout. if you looked up the definition of “feral” in a dictionary, my fucking face would be besides it. i shouldn’t have read this in a public space but with every word it just got better and better, hotter and hotter, i just couldn’t stop. i was heavingggggggg. anyways…

Your fingers faltered for a moment, your breath catching as your focus shifted entirely to him. He stood before you, stripped of all pretense, his movements deliberate and sure. When he pushed his pants and boxers down in one smooth motion, your gaze locked onto him, and your thoughts scattered.

your thoughts scattered??? beautifully put considering how wild this made me feel… i was not having demure thots at this point.

Slowly, deliberately, you adjusted, letting your slick pussy tease the length of him. The anticipation was maddening, and you could feel him trembling beneath you, his restraint barely holding. Then, with a deep breath, you angled yourself just right and began to lower yourself onto his length.

put me in horny jail, i beg you. i was suffering. i am suffering while rereading this.

it would be wrong of me to just quote the whole pussy eating scene so just know i was so not normal about it. grab a shovel, might as well go dig my grave now.

and then the end, when they both come undone and he says “give me one more”??? IS THAT SENTENCE EVEN LEGAL??? gonna have to check the law because i feel like it shouldn’t be. and the promise of a second round????? 🥵

i am so glad i finally got to read this because I WAS SO MISSING OUT. the whole fic was a fucking tease and a masterpiece, i truly cannot describe it any other way. PLEASE I BEG YOU, WILL YOU WRITE A SECOND PART TO THIS??? i hope so 😭

Strangers

Stripper!Javier Pena x f!reader // almost 9k

Time stands still and it's only us, what we feel started way before we ever touched... must be from a different life been here before and it just feels right

summary: you meet a sexy stripper at your bestie's bachelorette party and he tries his absolute hardest to get your number

warnings: mdni, 18+, javi is a stripper, he wears a man thong and gets pretty close to stripping it all off in public, there's cock and balls, unprotected p in v, f!oral receiving, lap dances for days, reader has breasts, a dress, and hair that can fall around her face and is internally conflicted about this man and his leopard thong, javi has a pov in this too

notes: i really don't remember what sparked this but here we are... it's been like a month or more of me working on this. I thought I was done and then I heard a single song and it pushed me to write even more. This was supposed to be just a smutty fic and then got some depth and I was like wtf. Anyway on to the thank yous, thank you to the 5000 people I have screamed to about this, and a massive thank you to @thundermartini for listening to me go on and on about this guy for a long time and then reading it for me love you baby! A special mention to @gothcsz for the thong idea, @evolnoomym, @milla-frenchy and @sawymredfox for being so supportive of this idea to @joelslegalwhre for reading and @syd-djarin for the moodboard

masterlist

The music thumped so loudly it seemed to shake the floor, the kind of bass-heavy track that rumbled through your chest. Your best friend’s bachelorette party was in full swing, and the rented penthouse buzzed with laughter, shrieks, and a significant amount of tequila-fueled chaos. The party planners had spared no expense, from the towering stacks of champagne glasses to the flashy male entertainment just about to take the stage.

And then, he walked in.

You couldn’t ignore the way the room seemed to shift when he entered. The man—Javier, as the MC introduced him—had an undeniable presence. Dressed in a tight police officer uniform complete with aviators, a fake badge, hat, and handcuffs, he adjusted his badge with a grin that screamed trouble. His dark eyes surveyed the room with the kind of confidence that could only come from knowing he was the main event.

Every woman in the room, including you, took notice.

While your friends ogled and whispered not-so-subtle comments, you tried—and failed—to keep your eyes elsewhere. He was gorgeous, sure, but this wasn’t your scene. Loud parties weren’t really your thing.

The first performance was for the bride-to-be, of course. When the lights dimmed and the music shifted to something playfully seductive, the room erupted into cheers and Javier made his way to the bachelorette.

“Ladies,” he announced, his voice smooth and teasing as he pulled a pair of fake handcuffs from his belt. “I hear there's a bride-to-be here who’s guilty of breaking hearts. I’m afraid I’ll have to take her in.”

Your best friend shrieked with laughter as he arrested her, securing one cuff around her wrist and helping her onto a nearby chair. The room buzzed with excitement as he began to dance, every move deliberate and designed to tease.

You watched the scene unfold, biting your lip to stifle your laughter. He was undeniably good at what he did. But you couldn’t focus on the theatrics as much as everyone else seemed to. Your attention had zeroed in on him—his broad shoulders, the way his shirt clung to his chest, and the effortless way he commanded every inch of the massive penthouse, the man was sex on legs. As he began to set up for the big finale, you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

His aviators followed, revealing deep, smoldering eyes that locked with yours for a moment too long. He’s just playing to the crowd, he has to look at all the women right?

The bassline shifted to a slower, dirtier rhythm, and he rolled his shoulders back, his body falling into perfect sync with the beat.

Then came the shirt.

He gripped the edges, peeling it off slowly, revealing inch by inch of sun-kissed skin stretched over a perfectly sculpted chest and arms. When he finally tossed the shirt aside, the room erupted in cheers and whistles.

And yet, all you could do was stare and clench your thighs together. Why was this affecting you so much? It’s just a party. It’s just a guy. Get a grip. But no amount of inner scolding could make you look away. Something about this man pulled you in.

His chest glistened under the soft glow of the light, each bead of sweat tracing a slow, tantalizing path over the chiseled contours of his body. Your breath hitched, captivated by the sheer allure of him—the way every ridge of muscle stood out, accentuated as his hand drifted slowly down his torso. He moved with deliberate ease, fully aware of the spell he was weaving, and the teasing smirk playing at the corner of his lips made it clear that he was savoring every second of all the attention he was receiving.

But it was when his fingers moved to rip off his belt that the real show began.

The collective energy in the room surged as Javier teasingly ran his hands down his sides, and in one swift, practiced motion, he reached for his waistband and yanked.

The rip-away pants came apart with a sharp, satisfying sound, sending the crowd into a frenzy. The noise, a mix of gasps, shrieks, and raucous laughter, echoed through the penthouse. But none of that registered as you stared at what had been revealed.

Javier stood unabashed and grinning in a leopard-print thong that left very little to the imagination. Every inch of his sculpted body was on display—toned legs, powerful thighs, and that tiny scrap of fabric barely holding itself together. The cut of the thong framed his hips perfectly, the deep lines of his V cutting down, drawing your eyes exactly where he wanted them to go. The thin fabric of the thong clung tightly to him, leaving the unmistakable outline of his cock on display, straining the limits of the material. Javier seemed completely unbothered by how much was on show.

Your face burned as your gaze dipped lower, catching a glimpse of something even more scandalous. The tiny scrap of leopard print couldn’t quite contain him—on the sides, the curve of his balls was slipping free. You swallowed hard, your pulse fluttering as he shifted his weight, the motion only emphasizing how precariously the thong was holding itself together.

The room exploded excitedly, women fanning themselves, throwing bills, and shouting over one another. But you could barely breathe.

And then, just when you thought the spectacle couldn’t get any more outrageous, Javier turned around with a deliberate, teasing spin, giving the room an uninterrupted view of his backside.

The thong was practically nonexistent, the thin fabric disappearing completely between the firm, sculpted curves of his ass. His glistening, muscular cheeks were on full display, round and perfectly defined, drawing another deafening eruption of cheers and whistles from the crowd.

Javier struck a pose, bracing his hands on his hips as he arched his back slightly, flexing for effect. He glanced over his shoulder with a devilish grin, clearly relishing in the chaos he was causing. The lights caught the sheen of sweat on his skin, highlighting every curve and line of muscle, leaving no question as to just how perfect he was from every single angle.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away. Your breath hitched and your pulse pounded so loudly in your ears it almost drowned out the music. Heat flushed through your body as your gaze lingered shamelessly on his backside, every inch of him a deliberate invitation.

After what felt like a torturous eternity, Javier turned back toward the crowd, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest as he surveyed everyone's reactions.

He strutted forward, running his hands up his torso and tossing a playful wink to the bride-to-be, who was practically falling out of her chair from laughter and shock. But his gaze kept flicking to you.

Your cheeks burned as he moved closer, spinning on his heel to give the audience another view. His movements were fluid and sensual, every roll of his hips and flex of his body perfectly in time with the music. When he leaned down to grab the bride’s hands to feel up his torso, his back arched in a way that emphasized the curve of his ass, and you bit your lip without thinking.

This man was a problem.

When he finally ended the dance with a flourish—dropping to his knees in front of the bride-to-be before flawlessly almost jumping back up to a standing position—the applause was deafening.

Javier laughed, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. He took a playful bow, blowing a kiss to the bride-to-be before gathering his discarded pants and shirt. His bare torso glistened under the soft glow of the party lights, and the lingering smirk on his lips suggested he knew he had the entire room wrapped around his finger.

The girls were still cheering and clapping, their voices a mix of exhilaration and tipsy enthusiasm. But while the others were caught up in the wild energy of the moment, you felt a strange tightness in your chest, like the room had closed in around you.

You weren’t used to reacting this way to someone, and it unnerved you. The heat creeping up your neck was impossible to ignore, and no amount of pretending to be distracted by your drink could hide the fact that your eyes kept darting back to him.

And he noticed—like a magnet—his eyes locked onto yours.

Your stomach flipped.

For a split second, everything else faded; the noise, the laughter, even your own internal protests to look away. It was just him, standing there, looking at you with that maddening confidence.

Then he moved.

Javier began to dance again, hips rolling in slow, hypnotic circles to the bass-heavy beat. The fabric of the thong strained with every motion, but he didn’t shy away. If anything, he seemed to lean into it—one hand trailing down his torso to brush along the waistband, teasing as if he might remove it completely.

Your pulse fluttered wildly as he worked the crowd, making his way closer, dancing toward you.

Your breath caught as you tried to focus on literally anything else—your drink, the flickering candles on the table, the way your best friend was still howling with laughter. But there was no escaping the fact that Javier was now standing right in front of you, every inch of him radiating heat and presence.

“Having fun?” he asked.

You blinked up at him, your mouth suddenly dry. “Uh… yeah. It’s been… something.” Your voice wavered, betraying how flustered you felt. Something? Really? That was the best you could come up with? You scrambled for words, your brain short-circuiting. “I mean—great. It’s been great.”

Smooth.

His smirk widened. “Just great?” He leaned in slightly, the scent of his cologne—something dark and woodsy—mingling with the musky sheen of sweat on his skin. “Because you’ve been staring like you’re enjoying yourself a little more than tha?t.”

You nearly choked on your drink. “I—I wasn’t—”

“Relax,” he teased, his grin softening into something warmer, more inviting. “I’m just messing with you. Now come on, sweetheart,” he encouraged. “Let me make your night.”

“I’m good, thanks,” you replied, though your cheeks burned with the effort of maintaining composure. You crossed your arms to emphasize your refusal, but Javier didn’t look the least bit discouraged.

“Oh, I don’t think you’re good. Not yet, anyway.” He leaned closer, his voice just for you now. “But I’m more than happy to change that.”

Despite your best efforts, the laughter bubbling up from your chest betrayed you. He grinned, clearly enjoying your reaction. But when you refused—again—he didn’t press. Instead, he winked, gave an exaggerated shrug, and moved on to another guest, leaving you strangely disappointed.

————

Later, after the performances ended and the room was quieter, you found yourself sitting on a chair in the back corner of the room scrolling idly on your phone, trying to drown out your lingering thoughts about him. A few drinks had loosened your resolve. You noticed a stack of glossy business cards on the table where he had tossed his hat earlier. Curiosity got the better of you, and you picked one up.

The card was sleek, black with gold lettering. At the top, in bold, elegant lettering, it read:

Elite Heat’s Javier Peña

To the left, there was a neatly organized list; a phone number, a Facebook link, which you immediately ignored, and a website address. But it was the bottom that made your breath hitch.

On top of a gold banner, the words Elite Heat: “The Best Sex Therapy” were printed in bold, confident lettering.

To the right was a photo of Javier himself.

It wasn’t a professional headshot - far from it. It was one of those casual yet devastatingly attractive pictures that looked effortless but likely required perfect lighting and timing. He wore a grey long-sleeve shirt that framed his broad chest perfectly, the top buttons undone just enough to tease without giving away too much. His hand, however, made it impossible not to stare—casually slipping beneath the fabric, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his defined abs. The way the light hit his skin added a subtle sheen, making the whole image feel like a deliberate invitation.

For a moment, you just stared at the card. The combination of professional polish and brazen confidence made your stomach twist in a way that annoyed you.

“The best sex therapy, huh?” you muttered to yourself, raising an eyebrow at the audacity.

Curiosity got the better of you. You grabbed your phone and typed “Javier Peña” into Instagram. After scrolling through a few accounts that clearly weren’t him, you found the right one.

The profile itself was… an experience.

Picture after picture of Javier dominated the feed—some in his infamous uniform, others in casual attire, and far too many shirtless to be accidental. Every post was a masterclass in confident allure, and his captions were just as bold.

The comments were what really got to you, though. Endless lines of hearts, fire emojis, and thirsty declarations filled each post.

“Find something you like?”

His voice startled you so much that you almost dropped your phone. You looked up to see Javier standing in front of you, his shirt slung casually over his shoulder and he was wearing his uniform pants again. How long had he been there?

“I was just…” You trailed off, trying to think of a plausible excuse for stalking him online. His smirk told you he wasn’t buying it.

“Don’t worry,” he said, leaning in closer than necessary. “You can follow me. Might even follow you back.”

“I’m not interested,” you replied, though the conviction in your voice wavered as he placed a hand on the back of your chair, caging you in.

“You sure about that?” he asked, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. Your heart raced as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. “I’ll make you a deal sweetheart, one dance. If you hate it, I’ll leave you alone. But if you like it… well, you can give me your number when it’s over.”

You swallowed hard, your resolve crumbling faster than you wanted to admit. After all, what was the harm in one dance?

Javier’s confidence was infuriatingly contagious, and your curiosity was louder than the protests in your head. You nodded if only to prove to yourself that he wouldn’t get under your skin. A small, victorious smile curved his lips as he straightened, offering his hand. “Good choice.”

He didn’t give you much time to second-guess as he guided you to the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the penthouse. Some of your friends hooted and hollered, clearly thrilled to see you in the spotlight. You, however, were hyper-aware of every step as Javier led you to a chair he had conveniently placed in the center of the room.

“Sit,” he commanded, his voice smooth but firm. His dark eyes gleamed with mischief as he waited for you to comply. Against your better judgment, you did.

The music shifted to something slower and sultrier. Javier grabbed his shirt from his shoulder, tossing it onto the floor. The movement was casual, but there was nothing casual about the way his toned chest and large arms drew every pair of eyes in the room. Including yours.

He stalked closer, and suddenly it felt like the room had disappeared. Just you, the chair, and the dangerously attractive man who seemed to thrive on the tension hanging in the air.

“Relax,” he murmured as he noticed the way your hands gripped the edge of the chair. “I don’t bite.” He winked. “Not unless you ask nicely.”

Before you could reply, he began to move.

It wasn’t the kind of dance you expected. Yes, it was provocative—every roll of his hips and glide of his body was designed to tease—but there was something more deliberate about it. He kept his gaze locked on yours, watching every flicker of emotion on your face. His hands didn’t touch you—not yet. Instead, they skimmed close enough to make you ache for the contact, only for him to pull away at the last moment.

He straddled the chair, his thighs framing yours as he dipped low, his chest hovering just inches from your face. His scent filled your senses, and your pulse quickened as he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You’re even more beautiful up close,” he whispered.

Your breath hitched, and you hated how easily he could see the effect he had on you.

Javier straightened, his hands gripping the chair on either side of you as he moved his hips in a way that felt borderline illegal. He was close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off him, but he still didn’t touch. The lack of contact was maddening, and the glint in his eye told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

The song ended too quickly, and he stepped back, leaving you feeling both relieved and oddly bereft. Your friends erupted into cheers and applause, but you barely noticed. Your eyes were fixed on Javier as he extended a hand, helping you out of the chair.

“Enjoy yourself?” he asked.

You swallowed hard, refusing to let him see how much he’d gotten to you. “It was… okay.”

He laughed—a deep, rich sound that sent another shiver through you. “Just okay, huh? I’ll have to work on that.”

Before you could respond, he winked and disappeared back into the crowd.

——

An hour later, the party was winding down. The penthouse was quieter, and most of your friends had migrated to the couches or left altogether. You were nursing your last drink of the night when Javier appeared again, a shot glass in each hand.

“For you,” he said, offering one with an easy smile.

You eyed it suspiciously. “You didn’t put anything in this, did you?”

He looked genuinely offended, clutching his chest dramatically. “I’m hurt you’d even ask.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, fine,” he admitted, leaning in closer. “I did put something in it.”

You froze, and he smirked, finishing his sentence with a devilish twinkle in his eye. “It’s called tequila.”

Your laugh surprised even you. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously charming,” he corrected, clinking his glass against yours. “Now drink up.”

Against your better judgment, you downed the shot, the burn of the tequila grounding you for a moment.

“Good girl,” he said. “Now, how about that number?”

Javier’s smile didn’t waver as he set his empty shot glass on the table. “Still hesitant, huh?” he asked, watching you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

You shrugged, trying to appear unaffected. “I don’t make it a habit to give my number to strangers, especially ones who…” You gestured vaguely to his naked chest and the police hat perched crookedly on his head. “...do what you do.”

“Fair enough,” he said, the teasing edge in his voice softening. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, holding it out to you. “At least let me follow you on Instagram..”

You stared at the phone, then at him. The sincerity in his tone threw you off balance, and the way his dark eyes searched yours made it hard to hold onto your skepticism. Against your better judgment—again—you took the phone and followed your account.

“Here,” you said, handing it back after following him.

Javier glanced at the screen, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he promised, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”

And just like that, he was gone, disappearing into the night with the same confidence that had drawn every eye in the room earlier.

Javi

Javier leaned against the balcony railing outside the penthouse lighting a cigarette, the cool night air doing little to temper the heat still coursing through him. The party was still going inside, but his thoughts had drifted elsewhere—to you. He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head at himself. He’d performed for hundreds of women, charmed his way through countless parties, but tonight felt… different.

You’d thrown him off balance in a way he wasn’t used to.

Sure, you’d laughed at his jokes and taken the shot he offered, but there was something in your eyes—an intoxicating mix of curiosity and resistance—that had him hooked. He wasn’t sure what it was about you. Maybe it was the way you tried to keep your guard up even as he chipped away at it. Maybe it was the way you watched him when you thought he wasn’t looking, like you couldn’t quite help yourself.

Or maybe it was the way he couldn’t stop replaying that moment on the dance floor in his head. The way your breath hitched when he leaned in. The way your lips parted, as though you were holding back words—or something else entirely.

The music from the party shifted the song echoing in the distance. Javier’s mind wandered as the melody pulled him into his own thoughts. It wasn’t just lust that gnawed at him—though, hell, that was definitely part of it. No, this was something deeper, something that felt unsettlingly like longing.

He ran a hand through his hair, the grin he’d worn all night slipping away. He’d never been one for complications, especially when it came to women. His job was to entertain, to tease, to flirt—but he’d never felt this kind of pull before. It was like a spark had ignited when he locked eyes with you, and now it wouldn’t go out.

For the first time in a long while, Javier wasn’t sure if he was in control.

The lyrics to the song playing in the penthouse hit him square in the chest.

Must be from a different life, been here before, and it just feels right. No, this ain't the first time for you and I, we ain't strangers.

The words struck a chord, leaving him standing there, staring out at the city lights, wondering how a single dance, a single moment, could unravel him so completely.

It's like it's driving me closer to you, every step back pulls me right back to you…

Maybe you wouldn’t give him your number. Maybe this would end here, tonight, like all the other nights before. But as he grabbed his phone from his pocket and opened Instagram, his thumb hovering over your profile, he couldn’t help but think—this didn’t feel like an ending.

It felt like the beginning of something he wasn’t ready to let go of.

———

Back in your hotel room, you flopped onto the plush bed with a groan. The events of the evening replayed in your mind, Javier’s smirk and the heat of his gaze lingering longer than you cared to admit.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered to yourself, reaching for your phone. A quick check of Instagram confirmed what you suspected—he’d already followed and sent you a message.

Javier: See? Now we’re not strangers anymore.

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at your lips. His confidence was irritatingly endearing.

You: I don’t think Instagram follows count as a formal introduction.

His reply was almost instant.

Javier: What would count? Because I’m pretty sure that dance was more personal than most first dates.

You bit your lip, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. He wasn’t wrong, but you weren’t about to admit that.

You: Is this your usual routine? Flirt with everyone at the party, then slide into DMs?

Javier: Nope. Just you.

You stared at the screen, your stomach doing an annoying little flip at his words.

You: Why me?

The typing indicator blinked for a moment before his reply came through.

Javier: Because you didn’t throw yourself at me like everyone else. And because you’re cute when you’re pretending not to be interested.

Your cheeks burned as you read the message, but you couldn’t help smiling.

You: I’m not pretending.

Javier: So you are interested?

You: I didn’t say that.

Javier: But you didn’t deny it, either.

You sighed, realizing this conversation wasn’t going to end anytime soon.

You: Don’t you have better things to do than bother me?

Javier: Nope. Not tonight.

Before you could come up with a snarky reply, another message popped up.

Javier: You could come over, you know. Save us both the trouble of texting all night.

Your heart raced at the suggestion, and you hesitated, typing and deleting a dozen responses before settling on one.

You: Not happening.

Javier: Why not?

You: Because it’s late, and I’m not that kind of girl.

Javier: What kind of girl is that?

You: The kind that sneaks into a stranger’s room after one tequila shot and a few texts.

Javier: I’m not exactly a stranger anymore.

You stared at his message, your lips twitching at the boldness. Before you could type out another response, your phone buzzed with a notification. It was a photo. From Javier.

You hesitated, your thumb hovering over the image preview before finally opening it. The picture was simple yet devastatingly effective: Javier, shirtless, sprawled on a hotel bed, the faint light casting shadows that only emphasized his toned chest. His dark eyes smoldered into the camera, and his messy hair added to the whole “devil-may-care” aesthetic he wore so well.

Javier: Feeling really lonely over here. Could use some company.

Heat pooled low in your belly and you groaned, tossing your phone onto the bed as if distance could break the spell he seemed to have on you. But of course, curiosity won out, and you grabbed it again, typing out a response before you could second-guess yourself.

You: Flattery and thirst traps won’t work on me.

Javier: Who said it was flattery? Just being honest.

You: Still not happening.

Javier: Okay, how about a compromise?

You: What kind of compromise?

Javier: Drinks. Just the two of us. Down at the hotel bar. Public place, no pressure.

You bit your lip, weighing your options. Saying yes felt like walking into a trap, but a part of you was curious—and maybe, just maybe, a little tempted. The idea of sitting across from him, away from the crowd, felt… different. Safer. Almost.

You: Fine. One drink.

Javier: I’ll take it. Meet you there in ten?

You: Fifteen. I need to change.

Javier: You don’t have to change for me, sweetheart. You already look perfect.

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips as you tossed your phone onto the bed and rifled through your suitcase. Fifteen minutes later, you stepped into the elevator, your heart pounding with anticipation and nerves as you descended to the hotel bar.

The bar was dimly lit, with warm amber hues reflecting off the polished surfaces. The low hum of conversation mingled with the clinking of glasses, creating an atmosphere both intimate and unassuming. You spotted Javier immediately.

He sat at a corner table, leaning back in his chair. He’d changed into a simple black button-down that clung to his frame in a way that was almost unfair. His gaze locked onto you the moment you entered.

“Right on time,” he said, standing as you reached the table. He pulled out a chair for you, a small but unexpected gesture that caught you off guard.

“Don’t get used to it,” you replied, settling into the seat.

“Noted.” His smile widened as he slid into the chair opposite you.

The server appeared almost instantly, and Javier gestured for you to order first. You requested a simple cocktail, while he opted for whiskey on the rocks. As the server walked away, his attention returned to you and it wasn’t long before they returned with them.

“So,” he began, leaning forward slightly. “What convinced you to come down here?”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance. “Curiosity, I guess. Wanted to see if you were as charming one-on-one as you are with a crowd.”

“And?”

You took a deliberate sip of your drink before answering. “Jury’s still out.”

He chuckled, “I’m not worried. I’m good under pressure.”

The banter came easily, the conversation flowing in a way that surprised you. He was quick-witted, teasing without being overbearing, and as much as you hated to admit it, he was easy to talk to, it felt like knew him without knowing him. The more you spoke, the more you caught glimpses of the man behind the cocky facade—sharp, observant, and surprisingly thoughtful.

Still, you made him work for it.

Whenever his compliments grew too bold, you deflected with a teasing remark. When he leaned in a little too close, you leaned back, though you couldn’t ignore the thrill that ran through you each time he tested your resolve.

“I like this game you’re playing,” he said after a while, his whiskey glass nearly empty.

“What game?” you asked innocently.

“The one where you pretend you’re not interested.” His gaze was unwavering, the heat in his eyes unmistakable.

“I’m not pretending,” you replied, though the words sounded less convincing than you’d hoped.

He tilted his head, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “No? Then why are you still here?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the truth caught in your throat. Why were you still here?

Before you could come up with an excuse, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing yours. The touch was light, almost hesitant, but it sent a jolt of electricity up your arm.

“Listen,” he said, his voice softer now, the teasing edge gone. “If this isn’t what you want, just say the word, and I’ll back off. No hard feelings.”

For the first time that night, you saw something unguarded in his expression—genuine sincerity that made your heart stutter. You hesitated, your walls cracking under the weight of his words. Maybe it was the way he looked at you, or the way his thumb brushed against your knuckles, but something in you shifted.

“Okay,” you said quietly.

His brow lifted. “Okay, what?”

“Okay… you’re not completely unbearable.”

He laughed, the sound genuine and warm. “High praise.”

“You know, I didn’t say I wasn’t interested,” you admitted finally, your voice quieter than you intended. “I just don’t know if this is a good idea.”

His smirk softened into something gentler, his fingers still lightly brushing yours on the table. “Not everything has to be a good idea to be worth it, sweetheart,” he said.

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Is that your life philosophy, or just your way of convincing women to give you their number?”

“Both,” he said with a shrug, his grin returning. “And it’s worked out pretty well so far.”

You rolled your eyes, but the tension between you eased slightly. The conversation shifted after that, the teasing banter giving way to something more genuine. He asked about your life, your work, your dreams—and for every question he asked, he shared something about himself, too.

“I wasn’t always this guy,” he admitted at one point, swirling the remnants of his whiskey in his glass. “I used to be a cop. A real one. Back in Colombia.”

You blinked, surprised. “A cop? Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah. DEA, actually.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? What made you leave?”

His expression darkened briefly, a shadow crossing his features. “Let’s just say… the job took its toll. And I realized I wanted something different. Something lighter.” He glanced at you then, a hint of humor returning to his voice. “Though I’m not sure stripping is what my father had in mind when I told him I was switching careers.”

The two of you laughed, and the conversation continued to flow. By the time your drinks were empty, you realized you were leaning forward, hanging onto his every word.

Javier glanced at the time on his phone and then back at you. “I hate to say it, but the bar’s closing soon.”

You nodded, a strange mix of disappointment and relief settling over you. “Guess I should head back to my room.”

“Yeah.” He hesitated, as if weighing his next words carefully. “Can I walk you to your door?”

Your pulse quickened at the question, but you nodded. “Okay.”

The two of you rode the elevator in silence, the charged tension between you filling the small space. When you reached your floor, he stepped out with you, his presence at your side was both comforting and exhilarating.

When you finally stopped outside your door, you turned to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Well… this is me.”

“Home sweet hotel,” he said, his tone light but his gaze intense.

You fiddled with your key card, unsure of what to say. He didn’t push, didn’t try to move closer. Instead, he simply smiled.

“I had a good time tonight,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

You swallowed hard, his words sending a warmth through you that had nothing to do with the tequila. “Me too.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air between you was thick with unspoken possibilities, each one more tempting than the last. Then, before you could talk yourself out of it, you leaned in and kissed him.

It was soft, hesitant at first—a test to see if this was really what you wanted. But the moment his lips moved against yours, everything else fell away. His hand cupped your cheek, his touch warm and steady as he deepened the kiss.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes searching yours for any sign of regret. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Guess you’ll have to stick around to find out,” you replied.

His smile was slow, almost lazy. “Careful, sweetheart. I just might take you up on that.”

As Javier lingered, you found yourself hesitating. The way he kissed you had ignited something within you—something raw.

You opened your door but didn’t step inside, glancing back at him. "Well, you coming?”

He arched a brow, that teasing smirk returning. “You sure?”

You laughed softly. “I think I’ll take my chances.”

Javier followed you inside. The dim light of the room cast shadows across his face, softening the sharp lines of his features. He shut the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment as he studied you.

“So,” he drawled, his tone playful but low. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

You swallowed, heat rising to your cheeks. “I think you know Javier.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he shrugged off his jacket, draping it over the back of a chair. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Before you could respond, he stepped closer, his fingers lightly grabbing your wrist. He guided you to sit on the edge of the bed and his voice dropped an octave. “If we’re doing this, I’m in control, ¿entiendes?”

You nodded, and it must have been obvious how nervous you were.

“Relax,” he murmured, his hands brushing your knees as he stepped between them. “This is supposed to be fun.”

You exhaled a shaky breath, your body responding to him in ways you couldn’t control. He leaned closer, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Do me a favor,” he whispered. “Touch yourself. Just a little.”

Your eyes widened, your pulse skyrocketing. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said. “I want to watch you.”

When you hesitated, his hand trailed up your thigh, his touch light but maddening. “Go on beautiful,” he urged. “Show me how you make yourself feel good.”

Your breath hitched, heat rushing to your cheeks and pooling low in your belly. Javier leaned back slightly, giving you space but never breaking eye contact. His gaze was dark, commanding, and utterly unapologetic. He wanted this. Wanted you vulnerable, open, and completely at his mercy.

You hesitated, your heart pounding like a drum, but the way his fingers skimmed over your thigh made it impossible to think straight. “Don’t be shy,” he murmured, his voice coaxing yet dripping with authority. “I want to see every bit of you, mi amor.”

Your hand trembled as it moved to the hem of your dress. Slowly, you slid it higher, exposing more of your thighs to his burning gaze. He walked back and pulled up a chair, one arm draped lazily over the armrest, but his eyes never wavered from you. The way he looked at you—as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world—was both thrilling and terrifying.

“Good girl,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. The praise sent a shiver through your body. You could feel your arousal building, the tension crackling between you like a live wire.

Your breath shuddered as your fingers brushed the fabric of your panties, the dampness betraying just how much his presence, his words, his command, had affected you. You glanced at him, unsure, but his gaze was steady, his jaw tight, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your pulse race.

Slowly, you slipped your hand beneath the fabric, the first tentative touch drawing a quiet gasp from your lips. Javier's expression darkened with hunger, his composure unraveling ever so slightly as he leaned forward.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Let me see how beautiful you are when you can’t hold back.”

Your fingers began to move in slow circles, your body responding to your touch almost instinctively. The heat between your thighs grew, and your hips shifted slightly, seeking more pressure. The room seemed to shrink, the air heavy with the sound of your breathing and the faint rustle of your movements.

Javier's eyes never left you. His own restraint was evident in the way his fists clenched, the way his chest rose and fell a little too fast. “I want to hear you. Don’t hold back from me.”

You whimpered, your movements becoming more confident, more insistent as you lost yourself in the moment. Every sound you made, every twitch of your body, seemed to light a fire in him. His control was slipping, and it was intoxicating to know that you were the one unraveling him.

“God, you’re perfect,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire. “Keep going, just like that.”

Javier’s gaze burned into you, the tension in his jaw betraying how tightly he was holding himself back. But then, he shifted, his hands moving to undo the buttons of his shirt, one by one, exposing the golden skin of his chest. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if daring you to keep watching even as your own hand continued its rhythm.

“Don’t stop,” he murmured, his voice dark and commanding, the sound vibrating through you. His shirt slid off his shoulders, and he let it fall to the floor. Then, his hands moved to his belt, the metallic clink making your breath hitch. He undid it in a single, fluid motion, the sound of the zipper following shortly after.

He was breathtaking. The sharp angles of his hips, the sculpted planes of his abdomen, the sheer strength of his frame—it was as if he had been carved just for you. Heat coiled low in your belly, a visceral reaction to the undeniable evidence of his desire for you.

Your eyes traveled over him, lingering shamelessly, drinking in every inch of him. His dark eyes burned into yours, filled with a heat that left you both vulnerable and electrified.

You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling exposed under his gaze despite still being partially clothed. The way he looked at you—like you were the only thing he could see—made your pulse race and your chest tighten with need.

The air between you crackled with an unspoken hunger, and you couldn’t look away, couldn’t hide how deeply he affected you.

His hand wrapped around his shaft, a groan slipping from his lips as he began to stroke slowly, matching the rhythm you’d set for yourself. “Look at me,” he said. “Don’t hide from me, nena.”

The sight of him, so confident, so completely at ease with his own pleasure, made your own need intensify. Your movements quickened, your body arching slightly as the tension in your core built. His gaze flickered over you, drinking in every shiver, every gasp, every movement of your hand.

“Dios mío,” he murmured, his strokes becoming faster as he watched you. “You’re so beautiful like this. I could watch you forever.”

Javier’s hand stilled suddenly, and you watched as he got up, his body exuding confidence and unrelenting command. He stepped closer, towering over you where you sat, his dark eyes still heavy with desire. He leaned down, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his voice a seductive rasp as he said, “Come here.”

You hesitated, your heart racing, unsure of what he was asking. But he took your hand, pulling you gently to your feet, and his lips brushed your ear. “I want you to dance for me. Just for me.”

“I—I don’t know if I can,” you stammered, your cheeks burning. The idea made your pulse race, the vulnerability and intimacy of it all was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

His hands moved to your waist, steadying you. “Yes, you can, you’re perfect.”

His words wrapped around you, melting your hesitation. Slowly, you began to sway, your movements tentative at first, but his gaze never wavered, filled with encouragement and raw need.

Your fingers found the hem of your dress, and you began to lift it, inch by inch, exposing your skin. His eyes tracked every motion, his breaths deep and heavy, fueling your confidence. The dress fell to the floor, leaving you in your underwear. You turned away from him, your fingers trembling as you unclasped your bra, letting it slide off your shoulders before finally slipping out of your panties.

“Fuck, you are so beautfiul.”

You felt the power in his words, the way they stoked your courage and your desire. With each slow sway of your hips, you inched closer to him, the magnetic pull between you was impossible to resist. His heated gaze anchored you, igniting a fire that coursed through your veins.

You ran your hands down your body, over your curves, letting him watch as you closed the distance. His chest heaved as you straddled him and the tip of his cock brushed against your core, you froze, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

“You’re doing so good,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your collarbone. “Just like that. Take your time, baby. Feel every second of it.

“Javi,” you whispered, your voice shaky. “I don’t know if I—”

“Yes, you do,” he interrupted, his hands sliding up your thighs to rest on your hips. His touch was firm, guiding but never forcing. “You’ve got this, baby. Dance for me—on me. Take your time.”

The raw hunger in his voice undid you. He guided your movements as you began to grind against him, slow and sensual. Your body aligned with his as you slid against him, teasing him with every slow grind. His head fell back against the chair, his jaw clenched as he groaned your name.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his hands tightening their grip, encouraging your movements. “Just like that. Feel me, nena. Let me feel all of you.”

The sensation stole your breath as you took him inch by inch, your body adjusting to his size. His growl of pleasure rumbled through you, his hands guiding you down until you were completely seated. The stretch, the fullness—it was overwhelming and it felt so good.

“Now move, baby,” he urged, his voice strained. “Show me how good you can make us feel.”

You began to roll your hips, your movements slow and deliberate as you rode him, your bodies perfectly in sync. The connection between you felt electric, every thrust and grind drawing you closer together. His hands explored your body, his lips tracing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck and collarbone as you moved, his murmured praises driving you to the brink.

Each undulation of your hips sent a new wave of pleasure crashing through you, and as you rode him, the world melted away, leaving only the two of you tangled in passion and ecstasy.

The sensation made you both gasp, his hands tightening on your hips as you began to move. “That’s it,” he groaned. “Ride me. Just like that.”

The tension coiled tighter with every roll of your hips, the friction building to a fever pitch as Javier groaned your name like a prayer. His hands gripped your waist firmly, guiding your movements, his thumbs pressing bruising circles into your skin as if to anchor himself. The entire time his gaze stayed locked on yours, dark and intense, as if he wanted to memorize the way you looked in this moment—completely undone above him.

“That’s it, baby,” he rasped. “You feel so damn good.”

The words lit you up, your pace quickening as you chased the edge, that blinding release that teased just out of reach. Your breaths mingled with his, sharp and ragged, the room heavy with the sound of skin meeting skin and the delicious symphony of your pleasure.

“Javi,” you gasped.

“I know, baby,” he murmured, his hands sliding up your back to cradle your face. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

Something in his voice broke you, the sincerity laced with desire, the unshakable promise that he wouldn’t let you fall. Your body tensed, your movements stuttering as the first shockwaves of pleasure crashed through you, and you cried out his name as you shattered around him.

Javier didn’t falter. He held you steady, his grip firm as he ground his hips up to meet yours, pulling you through the aftershocks until you were trembling in his arms. The intensity of it left you breathless, and you slumped forward, resting your forehead against his as you tried to gather yourself.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice still thick with need, though his concern for you was evident.

You nodded, chest heaving as you caught your breath. “Yeah,” you whispered.

“Your turn to relax. I’m not done with you yet.”

Before you could respond, he scooped you up effortlessly, cradling you against his chest as he stood. A soft squeak escaped you, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he carried you across the room.

“Javi, I can walk,” you protested weakly, though you made no effort to pull away.

“I know you can,” he teased, “but I like having you right where you are.”

The bed was cool against your back when he laid you down, but his body quickly chased away the chill. Javier followed you down, his weight settling between your thighs.

“Now,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face as his gaze softened. “Where were we?”

Javier’s lips captured yours in a kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth. He kissed you like he had all the time in the world, savoring every second, and you couldn’t help but melt into him.

His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a path of heat as he paused to suck and nip at the sensitive skin. His hands explored you, tracing the curve of your waist and the swell of your hips before sliding lower. Every touch sent shivers through you, and you couldn’t hold back the soft gasps escaping your lips.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured against your skin. “Every inch of you.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair as you arched into him, your body aching for more. “Javi, please,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He chuckled softly. “Patience, sweetheart. You just taste so good.”

Your hands gripped his shoulders, your body arching involuntarily. “Javier, I need… I need you.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. “You’re so beautiful like this. All mine.”

As his lips moved lower, he pressed kisses to the sensitive skin of your thighs, his hands spreading you gently. The anticipation made your body tremble, your legs parting instinctively as you felt him pause, his breath hot against your core.

“Perfect,” he whispered, almost to himself, before he leaned in.

The first touch of his tongue made you cry out, your fingers clutching at the sheets as he worked you with slow movements. Javier groaned softly, his grip firm on your thighs as he held you open, the sound vibrating through you and heightening the pleasure.

Your hips bucked against him, and you gasped, “Javi, please, I’m so close.”

He lifted his head slightly, his lips glistening as he smirked at you. “I love hearing you beg for me, come on let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

His tongue and suddenly his fingers moved together in perfect rhythm, lapping, sucking and moving just right. The tension in your belly coiled tighter until it snapped, pleasure crashing over you in waves that left you trembling. Javier didn’t stop until your body softened beneath his touch, his movements slowing as he kissed your thighs and worked his way back up your body.

By the time he reached your lips, you were breathless, your body buzzing with aftershocks. He kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

“How was that beautiful?” he murmured, brushing his nose against yours.

“Incredible,” you whispered, your fingers tracing the strong lines of his jaw.

Javier groaned softly at your touch, his restraint visibly fraying. He kissed you harder, his body pressing into yours as his arousal became impossible to ignore. “You sure you’re ready for more?”

You answered by rolling your hips against him, earning a sharp inhale as he gritted his teeth. “I need you, Javi. Please fuck me.”

That was all it took. He positioned himself, his gaze locked on yours as he pushed into you in one slow, steady motion. The stretch was intense, and you gasped, clinging to him as your body adjusted.

“Jesus,” he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder. “You feel so fucking good, so damn tight.”

“Move..please,” you urged softly, your lips brushing his ear.

He obeyed, pulling back before thrusting in again, setting a rhythm that was slow but deep. Every movement drew you closer until you couldn’t tell where he ended and you began.

His hand slid between you, his thumb finding your most sensitive spot, teasing it in time with his thrusts. “You’re taking me so well.”

Your nails raked down his back, the pleasure building impossibly fast. “Javier,” you whimpered, your body tightening around him as the tension reached its breaking point.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, his pace quickening as he chased his own release. “Come for me, give me one more.”

His words were your undoing. You shattered around him, your cries filling the room as pleasure consumed you. Javier followed moments later, his movements faltering as he buried himself deep, a guttural groan escaping him as he found his release.

For a while, neither of you moved, the room quiet except for the sound of your ragged breaths. Eventually, Javier rolled to the side, pulling you close against his chest. He pressed a kiss to your temple, his lips soft and tender.

He chuckled, his chest rumbling beneath your cheek. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

You laughed softly, tilting your head to meet his gaze. “You’re not so innocent yourself, Javier.”

His smirk returned. “Get some rest, baby,” he murmured, pulling the blanket over you both. “You’ll need it for round two.”

#fic rec #like REALLY fic rec #javier peña x reader

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yuu-kantokusei · 12 hours ago

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~Holding your hands~

Pair: twst characters x you

Characters: NRC

TW: fluff

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts: He holds your hand carefully, almost as if he's following a rulebook for proper hand-holding. His grip is firm but gentle, his thumb occasionally brushing over your skin. He’d blush if you pointed it out.

Ace Trappola: Ace grabs your hand casually, fingers intertwined as if it's the most natural thing in the world. He might swing your hand playfully or give a cheeky squeeze to tease you.

Deuce Spade: Deuce holds your hand nervously at first, his palm slightly sweaty. Once he gets comfortable, his grip is protective and warm, like he’s silently promising to keep you safe.

Cater Diamond: Cater laces your fingers together effortlessly, his grip loose and casual. He might even snap a selfie while holding your hand, teasing you about how cute you both look.

Trey Clover: Trey’s hand-holding is calm and reassuring. He’ll let you set the pace, his larger hand enveloping yours in a comforting way, like a silent promise of stability.

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar: Leona’s hand-holding is lazy and possessive. He’ll grab your hand and rest it on his lap, using it as a pillow if he’s lying down. His grip is loose but firm enough to remind you that you’re his.

Ruggie Bucchi: Ruggie’s hand-holding is playful and quick. He might tug on your hand to pull you along, his fingers warm and slightly rough from all his work. He’ll laugh and joke while holding your hand like it’s the most fun thing ever.

Jack Howl: Jack’s hand-holding is cautious but protective. His hand dwarfs yours, and he’s hyper-aware of how much pressure he’s applying, wanting to make sure you’re comfortable. He might blush if you point out how warm his hands are.

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto: Azul’s hand-holding is calculated but tender. He’ll clasp your hand with both of his, his touch lingering as if sealing a contract. His hands are cool and smooth, and he’ll make subtle adjustments to ensure you’re comfortable.

Jade Leech: Jade’s hand-holding is elegant and deliberate. His fingers glide against yours before interlocking, his grip gentle but firm. He’ll occasionally rub small circles on the back of your hand, a knowing smile on his face.

Floyd Leech: Floyd’s hand-holding is unpredictable. He might grab your hand tightly and swing it wildly, or hold it loosely and drop it suddenly, depending on his mood. But when he’s calm, his grip is snug and almost possessive.

Scarabia

Kalim Al-Asim: Kalim’s hand-holding is cheerful and affectionate. He’ll grab your hand enthusiastically, often swinging it or pulling you along to show you something exciting. His hands are warm, and his joy is contagious.

Jamil Viper: Jamil’s hand-holding is discreet and calculated. He’ll keep it subtle, his hand brushing against yours before intertwining your fingers. His grip is steady and protective, though he rarely initiates in public.

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit: Vil’s hand-holding is poised and graceful. He’ll intertwine your fingers delicately, making sure it’s aesthetically pleasing. His touch is soft, and his confidence makes the gesture feel almost regal.

Rook Hunt: Rook’s hand-holding is dramatic and intentional. He’ll kiss your hand first, then intertwine your fingers, making every moment feel like a grand performance. His grip is firm yet gentle, filled with admiration.

Epel Felmier: Epel’s hand-holding is shy but determined. He’ll grab your hand firmly, wanting to prove his strength. His grip is slightly rough from working with his hands, but it’s always warm and reassuring.

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud: Idia’s hand-holding is hesitant and nervous. His hands are cold, and he might fumble a bit before settling into a comfortable grip. Once he’s relaxed, he’ll hold on tightly, as if afraid to let go.

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia: Malleus’s hand-holding is gentle yet commanding. He’ll cradle your hand in his, his long fingers wrapping around yours protectively. His grip is steady, making you feel like nothing in the world could harm you.

Lilia Vanrouge: Lilia’s hand-holding is playful and spontaneous. He might surprise you by grabbing your hand suddenly or intertwining your fingers in an unusual way. His grip is light, but his energy is contagious.

Sebek Zigvolt: Sebek’s hand-holding is stiff and formal at first, almost like he’s performing a duty. Once he relaxes, his grip becomes more natural, though he’ll still be overly aware of his posture and yours.

Silver: Silver’s hand-holding is serene and comforting. His grip is soft but secure, and he might even fall asleep while holding your hand, his warmth radiating through your palm.

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rinsthighsweat · 3 days ago

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They are in a long distance relationship

Rin, Shidou, Barou, Nagi and Bachira | masterlist

۶ৎ Rin Itoshi

Rin isn’t expressive, but he takes the relationship seriously. He dislikes long phone conversations but makes an effort to stay in constant contact.

Prefers simple but direct messages: “Training. You?” Though his responses may seem cold, they reflect his genuine interest.

Video calls are rare because they make him uncomfortable, but if he knows they make you happy, he’ll endure them, keeping a serious face while you talk.

Staying focused on football is easier because of the distance, yet he thinks about you more often than he admits.

“I’m bad at this, but I want this to work. Is that enough for you?”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

۶ৎ Shidou Ryusei

Shidou is unpredictable, even in a long-distance relationship. He sends random messages, from weird memes to passionate confessions.

He has no shame in calling you at odd times just to say something bold or make you laugh.

He misses physical contact the most and openly expresses his frustration: “How much longer until I see your face again? I’m done with this.”

Despite his chaotic personality, his unexpected dedication ensures you never feel neglected.

“When we meet, you’re not leaving my side. Got it?”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

۶ৎ Shoei Barou

Barou isn’t great at expressing affection over distance, but his commitment to the relationship is solid.

He keeps conversations short and focused, often asking practical questions: “Did you eat? Don’t skip meals.”

He prefers voice messages, finding long texts a waste of time. His messages often sound like orders but carry genuine concern.

Though he won’t admit it, the distance frustrates him because he feels he can’t protect you properly.

“Stay strong until we meet again. Don’t act weak.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

۶ৎ Seishiro Nagi

Nagi hates extra effort but surprisingly keeps in touch because he cares more than he shows.

He prefers video calls over texting since they’re less work. He’s often lying down, sleepy-eyed, staring at the screen.

Though lazy by nature, if he notices the distance is affecting you, he makes a conscious effort to talk more and listen better.

“Being apart is annoying… but being without you would be worse.” It’s one of the rare emotional things he might say.

“Seeing you again sounds nice, way less effort than all this.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

۶ৎ Meguru Bachira

Bachira treats a long-distance relationship as a fun challenge and does everything to keep it exciting.

He sends messages filled with emojis and pictures of random things in his day.

He surprises you with spontaneous video calls, sharing whatever silly thing he’s doing at the moment.

The distance never dulls his enthusiasm, as he constantly reminds you how much he cares.

“Distance doesn’t matter. As long as we keep smiling, we’re good, right?”

#bllk #bluelock #headcanon #blue lock headcanons #rin itoshi #rin x reader #shidou ryusei #shidou x reader #nagi seishiro #nagi x reader #barou shouei #barou x reader #bachira meguru #bachira x reader

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loveesiren · 1 day ago

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𝖥𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 (𝖯𝗍. 2)

Thanos x american!reader | Forever Masterlist

a/n: This is way longer than I had expected but I hope you guys enjoy! Two more parts to come 🫶🏼

synopsis: Thanos and Y/n grow closer. Much closer. Y/n is in for a wild ride when she uncovers a secret about her family.

warnings: language, canon divergence, fast burn, violence, character death, blood

wc: 5.7k+

That night, Thanos was uncharacteristically clingy, playing with your hair and watching your every movement as you bantered with the others. As the loudspeaker announced lights out, he leaned close. “I want you near me tonight,” he murmured. “I don’t trust the others in here.”

When the lights went out, you tried to sleep in the bed beside his, but the whispers in the dark clawed at your nerves. Unable to understand what the others in the dorm were saying, you felt vulnerable in the fact that you could be an easy target.

“T!” you whispered. “Wake up!”

“Hmm? What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked groggily yet concerned.

“C-can I sleep with you?” you asked, your voice trembling. “I’m scared.”

He shifted immediately, pulling back the blanket. “Come here.”

You climbed into his bed, and he wrapped you in his arms, his hand resting gently on your hip. “You’re safe,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’ve got you.”

“You guys are gross.” Nam-gyu mumbled.

“Shut up!” Thanos hissed before pulling you closer.

You nestled into his embrace, your fingers lacing with his. For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight of fear lifted. Thanos’ steady warmth lulled you into a deep, peaceful sleep.

The bright lights flickered on, rudely pulling you from the deep, dreamless sleep your body desperately needed. You groaned, turning over and burying your face in Thanos’ chest. He groaned too, wrapping his arms tighter around you and pulling the covers over both of you.

“It’s too early to face death,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against him.

“Let’s just stay here all day,” he murmured back, his voice still thick with sleep. “You’re so warm. I don’t want to let you go.”

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, your breath catching as he reached up and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes flicked to your lips, and for a moment, the world outside your shared cocoon of warmth seemed to vanish. He leaned closer, his lips just a breath away from yours.

“Time to wake up, lovebirds!” Nam-gyu’s obnoxious voice broke the spell as he jumped on the bed, ripping the covers away.

Thanos groaned loudly. “Get off us!” he snapped, shoving Nam-gyu back.

Nam-gyu only laughed. “Come on! Food’s here, and you need to get ready for the next game.”

Thanos sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes. “Fine,” he muttered. You climbed out of bed and stretched, your shirt lifting slightly over your hips. Thanos couldn’t help but watch, a lazy smile spreading across his face.

“Thanks for letting me sleep with you,” you said, a teasing lilt in your voice.

“Always,” he replied, his voice soft and almost reverent. As you made your way down the steps, Thanos quickly followed, his hand finding its place on your hip as if it were second nature. He stayed close all morning, his touch a constant presence, as though he feared you might vanish if he let go.

An announcement crackled over the intercom, revealing the next game wouldn’t be for another three days. Relief swept over you.

“Thank God!” you exclaimed, standing and stretching again. “I’m going to shower.”

“Wait, alone?” Thanos asked, concern lacing his voice.

“Uh, yeah. That’s how showers usually work,” you teased with a chuckle.

Thanos frowned, chewing on his lip nervously. “Se-mi, go with her.”

“T, I’ll be fine—”

“She’s going with you,” he insisted, his tone sharper than he intended. His hand found yours, his thumb brushing your knuckles. “Please. I just need to know you’re safe.”

You softened, offering him a reassuring smile. “Okay. But you should shower too—you still have blood on you.” You reached up to rub at the dried stain on his chin. “And, honestly, you stink!” you teased before leaning up to kiss his cheek. “See you soon.”

Dragging Se-mi with you, you headed for the showers, leaving Thanos smiling as he watched you skip away.

“Bro, you’re whipped,” Nam-gyu muttered, clapping a hand on Thanos’ shoulder. “Don’t let her slow you down.”

Grinding his teeth, Thanos turned to him with a glare. “She’s not slowing me down. She’s the reason I’m still here.”

In the shower, you and Se-mi talked quietly as you dried off and slipped into fresh clothes.

“So, you and Thanos,” Se-mi began with a knowing smirk. “I thought he was kind of a dick, but… he’s different with you.”

You smiled, the warmth in your chest undeniable. “Yeah. I thought so too at first. But under all that attitude, he’s… really sweet.”

Se-mi raised an eyebrow. “Bet he’s a good lay,” she teased with a wink.

“Se-mi!” you laughed, shoving her playfully.

Meanwhile, Thanos, Nam-gyu, and Min-su headed towards the showers.

“All I’m saying is she’s a distraction, bro.” Nam-gyu spoke from the stall beside Thanos’. Thanos rolled his eyes as he washed away the dirt and grime of the previous day. “If you want to make it out of here alive, you need to stay focused.”

“And what about you, Min-su? Anything to say about Y/n?” Thanos said flatly. He was quite frankly sick of the attitude Nam-gyu had towards you.

“I think she’s nice…” Min-su said softly.

Thanos smiled at his response, a wave of relief washing over him. “She is nice.”

“Yeah, too nice. She’s probably just using you, bro.” Nam-gyu added.

Thanos grabbed a towel and stepped out of the shower. “Nam-gyu, shut up, yeah? She’s with us and if you don’t like it, go find another team.”

Nam-gyu sighed as he dried off. “Whatever you say, boss.” He mumbled under his breath.

By the time you returned to the dorm, your laughter had Thanos’ attention immediately. His eyes dropped to your hips and lingered on the glint of your belly ring. Nam-gyu elbowed him. “Pick your jaw up, dude.”

When you reached the group, Thanos wasted no time pulling you into his lap. Normally, you weren’t much for PDA, but something about the constant threat of death made you crave closeness. “You look so pretty,” he whispered, his fingers brushing your belly ring. “And I didn’t know you had this.”

“I’m full of surprises,” you teased. You played with his wet purple hair, trying to get it back to it’s usual messy self. He shook his head fast like a golden retriever, covering you in water and you giggled. He smiled up at you, fingers clinging firmly to your hip. He looked like a school boy with his first crush and you couldn’t help but smile.

Over the next few days, you got to know Se-mi and Min-su better. Nam-gyu took his usual jabs at you, not warming up to your presence at all. Thanos watched you with big eyes as you talked, fascinated by your stories, your accent, and all your cute little quirks.

You spent each night in his bed, allowing him to wrap you up in his arms so you could sleep soundly. The rise and fall of his chest as he inhaled your scent brought you a serene feeling.

You became so comfortable that you almost forgot where you were. Stuck in a hellish game of survival.

The announcement for the next game came far too soon. The lighthearted mood evaporated as dread settled over the group. Thanos held you close as you made your way to the arena, his arms a protective barrier against the world.

The game was called Mingle, and Thanos tried to lighten the tension. “Looks like we’re supposed to mingle,” he joked. “Just stick with me, okay?”

“Always,” you replied.

As the platform rotated beneath your feet, Thanos rocked you gently to the rhythm of the music, humming along softly. For a moment, it felt like you were somewhere else—somewhere safe. But the illusion shattered when the first number was called: 10. The chaos began.

You scanned the room, your eyes darting over familiar faces. One of them stood out—the crazed man who had warned everyone about the horrors of continuing this game. Player 456 who you came to find out was named Gi-hun. Thanos and Nam-gyu were quick to drag their team along with yours and they didn’t fight it, knowing they needed to survive.

Gi-hun’s wild eyes locked onto yours just as gunshots echoed through the arena outside the door, his gaze softening slightly as he realized you couldn’t really keep up with what was going on around you. That you must have flocked to Thanos and his posse because they were your age and spoke english. It almost looked like he pitied you.

You tried to stay calm, fiddling absentmindedly with the ring on Thanos’ finger as the guards worked to clear the bodies outside. The faint metallic scent of blood lingered in the air, a grim reminder of what awaited anyone who faltered.

“Hey, what the fuck are you looking at?!” Thanos growled in Korean, his voice sharp. Startled, you looked up to see one of the older men leering at you. Thanos stepped in front of you, his frame shielding yours. “Don’t fucking look at her!” he barked, shoving you gently behind him.

“T, it’s okay!” you said, grabbing his hand and tugging him back before the situation could escalate further. You were trapped in a tiny room with ten people, there really wasn’t any room for a fight.

Thanos turned, his body still positioned protectively between you and the man. “Fucking perv,” he muttered under his breath, his jaw tight.

“Pretty sure you were looking at me like that earlier,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, but you’re mine,” he said firmly, his eyes meeting yours. A small smile tugged at your lips at the dominance. You found yourself wanting to close the space between you. But the sharp click of the door opening shattered the moment—it was time for the next round.

The first two rounds were chaotic but manageable. Thanos and Nam-gyu pulled people into your group without much thought or care about who they were with before, the only goal being to hit the required numbers. When the carousel stopped at four, however, the stakes climbed higher.

You exchanged a worried glance with Se-mi. “Who’s going with who?” Min-su asked quietly, his voice tinged with apprehension. Se-mi grabbed his hand.

“Se-mi,” you said without hesitation, linking your arm with hers. Thanos gripped your hand tightly, his determination evident in his gaze. “Sorry, Nam-gyu,” you added, your tone clipped as the four of you made a break for a nearby door. You felt bad leaving Nam-gyu behind but he had been nothing but against you since the start.

The seconds ticked away, each one more frantic than the last. Se-mi and Min-su made it into the room, but as Thanos pulled you toward the door, you felt a sharp tug at your hair. Nam-gyu yanked you backward, throwing you to the ground before shoving Thanos inside and slamming the door shut.

“T!” you screamed, scrambling to your feet.

“Y/n!” Thanos’ voice was raw as he pounded on the door, trying to get back to you.

“She’s not good for you, bro!” Nam-gyu shouted, his hands braced against the door to keep it shut.

“Nam-gyu, what the fu-”

Before you could say more, someone grabbed you roughly and dragged you into another room. The door locked behind you just as the timer hit zero. Gunshots filled the air, the sound rattling in your skull as you struggled to catch your breath. Your chest heaved, panic clawing at you.

“T… Thanos!” you screamed, your voice breaking.

“It’s okay! He made it into a room,” someone said, their words swirling in the chaos of your mind. You looked up at the unfamiliar faces around you, their expressions a mix of relief and pity. “Don’t worry. He’s okay.”

On the other side of the door, Thanos scanned the bodies being cleared, his heart pounding in his chest. Relief surged through him when he didn’t see you among them. But his relief quickly turned to fury as he turned on Nam-gyu.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Thanos roared, shoving Nam-gyu hard. “Why the fuck would you do that?!”

“She’s not good for you!” Nam-gyu snapped back. “You’re too focused on her and not focused enough on surviving!”

“Who the fuck are you to tell me what matters?!” Thanos yelled, his hands wrapping around Nam-gyu’s neck. “You don’t get to decide who I care about!”

“Stop it!” Se-mi shouted, stepping between them with Min-su’s help. “Someone grabbed her—she made it, okay?! She’s alive!”

Thanos stumbled back, panting heavily, his hands trembling. The moment the door unlocked, he bolted out, his voice ringing through the room. “Y/n?! Y/N!”

“Thanos!” you shouted, running toward him. The second you reached him, he pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly it was hard to breathe—but you didn’t care.

“I’m so fucking sorry, baby,” he whispered against your hair, his voice shaking with emotion.

“T, it’s not your fault,” you said softly, cupping his face. “I’m alive. I’m here.”

Before you could say more, his lips crashed into yours. The kiss was desperate, almost bruising, filled with all the fear and longing he’d been holding back. When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours. “I thought I lost you,” he admitted through shaky breaths, a tear sliding down his cheek.

“You didn’t,” you whispered, your voice steady. “I’m here.” You reassured him as his trembling hands clutched you tightly.

When you turned to Nam-gyu, your anger surged. “Look, Y/n,” he started, “I’m sorry. The game is about surviv—”

Your fist connected with his jaw before he could finish. “Don’t you ever fucking touch me again,” you snarled, your voice trembling with rage. You could see Thanos wanted to go after him. Jump on him and beat the living shit out of him for almost getting you killed. But the music started and you held Thanos back, keeping your arms wrapped tightly around him to make sure you didn’t get separated again.

The next round began, and Thanos didn’t leave your side. When the carousel stopped at two, he didn’t hesitate. He forgot about everyone else as he scooped you into his arms. He sprinted for a door, ignoring the chaos around him. He placed you inside carefully, bracing himself against the door as others tried to force their way in.

“Fuck off!” he shouted, his voice a sharp warning.

The timer ran out, and the door locked, sealing the two of you inside. As the gunshots rang out once again, Thanos collapsed onto the floor beside you, his breathing heavy. You curled up against him, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

“Game over,” the voice announced and you both breathed a sigh of relief.

“We did it,” you murmured. “We’re alive.” You could see he was still distressed about almost losing you. You cupped his face, forcing him to look at you. “T, we’re alive. We’re here. I’m here. I’m here with you, okay?”

His eyes softened, and after a moment of hesitation, he said, “I love you.”

You blinked, surprised, but the words came easily. “I-I love you, too.” You leaned into him, pressing your lips to his. The kiss was softer this time. He reached up to wrap his fingers in your hair, deepening the kiss.

“We’re going home after this. I can’t lose you.” His voice cracked.

You nodded your head in agreement. “I don’t want to do this anymore, T. I want to go home. I want to go home with you.”

When the doors unlocked, Thanos moved to you in a heartbeat, his arms pulling you into his chest with a desperation that spoke volumes. You could feel the tension in his trembling hands, his grip so firm it felt like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go. His expression was a storm of emotions—fear, sorrow, and rage swirling into one. Fear that he’d almost lost you, sorrow that he’d failed to keep you safe, and a simmering rage directed at Nam-gyu, who had dared to put you in harm’s way.

In that moment, the memory of the first game flashed in his mind—the day he pushed those people, the day you looked at him with disappointment in your eyes. He’d told himself it was survival, but now he wondered if this was his penance, a cruel karmic loop to remind him of how far he’d fallen. Yet here you were, your hand squeezing his tightly, silently telling him you still believed in him.

You smiled when you spotted Se-mi and Min-su exiting one of the rooms, your joy infectious even in this bleak place. “Se-mi!” you called, rushing to embrace her. For a brief moment, it was as if the world hadn’t become this brutal, twisted nightmare.

“I’m so happy you’re okay,” Se-mi said, holding you like a lifeline. Min-su joined the hug, and together, you stood as a small circle of warmth in the cold, ruthless game.

Thanos stood protectively behind you as you hugged your friends, his gaze fixed on Nam-gyu, who exited the room like a shadow. The tension in Thanos’s jaw was palpable, his fists clenched so tightly they shook. Nam-gyu dared not meet his glare. The air between them was heavy, crackling with unspoken fury.

When your reunion ended, Thanos pulled you back to his side, his arm draped over your shoulders like a shield. “Stay close to me,” he murmured, his voice low, almost a plea.

As the four of you sat in your usual corner, Nam-gyu prowled the room like a predator circling prey. Thanos’s anger grew like a rising tide, his eyes never leaving the man who had nearly cost you your life.

“Baby, it’s okay,” you whispered, placing a calming hand on his chest.

“No,” he growled, his voice trembling with restraint. “It’s not alright. He tried to kill you.”

You sighed, your eyes softening as you looked at him. “We’re voting X tonight. All of us. It’s time to go home. The money isn’t worth this—any of this. I don’t want to lose any of you.”

Min-su and Se-mi agreed immediately, their faces reflecting the same exhaustion and longing for freedom. You turned to Thanos, waiting for his answer as his fingers trailed up and down your arm absentmindedly.

“T?” you prompted gently.

He finally looked at you, the intensity in his gaze softening. “Yeah. Yes,” he said, nodding. “We’re leaving. Together.” He cupped your chin, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both a promise and an apology. “I’m not letting anything happen to you. Not ever.”

Se-mi and Min-su’s laughter rang out like the first hint of sunlight in a long, dark night.

“What?” Thanos asked, raising an eyebrow as he glanced at them.

“Nothing! Nothing. It’s just…” Se-mi grinned, her eyes glinting with amusement. “I thought you were a total prick when I first met you.”

“Me too,” Min-su chimed in, his chuckle carrying a lightness that felt almost foreign in this place.

You smirked, unable to resist joining in. “He is a prick.”

“Yeah, I am,” Thanos admitted, his tone so matter-of-fact it bordered on serious. But then his gaze softened as he turned to you, his lips curving into a faint smile. He reached out, pulling you back into his arms and holding you as though you were the only thing tethering him to this world. “Not to you, though,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

When it was finally time to vote, you marched up to the console, your heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and desperation. The red X button seemed to glow brighter than before, a beacon of hope in this twisted game. You pressed it with all the force you could muster, as if the strength of your conviction alone could shatter this nightmare.

Thanos voted the same, earning a few surprised looks from the other players. He was beside you moments later, his arm sliding protectively around your shoulders like a shield. His presence steadied you, reminding you that no matter what, you weren’t alone. It was no secret that the two of you were together. Everyone knew—the players, the guards, the cameras. But you didn’t care. You just wanted to survive this hell and make it out into a world where your love could exist without the shadow of death looming over you.

Se-mi and Min-su voted X as well, their faces set with determination. Relief began to creep into your chest—until Nam-gyu strode up to the console with defiance in every step. His finger hovered over the buttons for just a second before he slammed the O button. He turned to you, his gaze sharp and filled with malice, the satisfaction on his face unmistakable.

“What’s his fucking problem?” you muttered, your voice a mix of frustration and disbelief.

“Did you know him before this?” Min-su asked hesitantly.

You shook your head. “I’ve never met him before in my life. I don’t know why he has such a problem with me.”

Thanos’s fingers tightened on your hips, grounding you even as his anger radiated off him in waves. He leaned down, his voice a growl against your ear. “I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

You tilted your head back, your fingers slipping into his hair as you gently scratched at his scalp, trying to ease the tension in his body. “Let’s just focus on getting out of here, okay?” you said softly.

His shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath, nodding reluctantly. He pressed a kiss to your temple, the warmth of his lips lingering there like a promise.

When the results were revealed, your heart sank. The vote was tied.

You couldn’t believe it. After everything—after the carnage and the screams and the lives lost—people still wanted to keep playing. The weight of it pressed down on your chest, making it hard to breathe. This place didn’t just strip people of their freedom; it eroded their humanity.

The four of you retrieved your dinner in silence, the atmosphere around the room thick with unease. You could hear whispers, fragments of conversations about the O team and the possibility of an attack during the night. The words wrapped around you like a suffocating fog.

“You really think they’re going to attack us?” Min-su asked, his voice trembling.

Thanos glanced at him, his expression steady, though his grip on his fork betrayed his tension. “We’ll be okay,” he said firmly. “You hide if it comes to that, okay? I’ll handle it.” You admired the way Thanos had grown to care for others over the past weeks.

You unwrapped your food and picked up your fork, eager for something—anything—to distract you from the dread pooling in your stomach. But as soon as your fingers brushed the cold metal, your stomach dropped.

It wasn’t plastic. It was silver. Real. Sharp.

Your chest tightened, and you looked over at Thanos, your voice barely above a whisper. “T…”

He immediately turned to you, concern flashing in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You held up the fork, its polished surface gleaming under the harsh lights. Across the room, you caught the O team watching you, their eyes cold and calculating.

“They want us to kill each other,” you said, your voice breaking. The words hung in the air, a heavy truth that sent a shiver down your spine.

Thanos reached for your hand, his touch firm and reassuring. “Then we won’t give them the chance,” he said, his tone filled with quiet determination. His gaze shifted to you, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his face. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Not now. Not ever.”

And in that moment, you believed him.

You sat awake in bed, your knees tucked to your chest, as Thanos gently stroked your hair. His touch was deliberate, soothing, as if he could will away the fear gnawing at the edges of your sanity. But even his comforting presence couldn’t quiet the storm brewing in your mind. The air in the room felt suffocating, heavy with the kind of tension that made your skin crawl. Something was going to happen tonight—you didn’t know what or when, but you could feel it deep in your gut.

Your fingers curled around the fork you had kept from dinner, the cool metal grounding you. It wasn’t much, but in this place, it was your lifeline, a fragile promise of survival.

“Try to rest,” Thanos murmured, his voice low and gravelly, his thumb brushing against your temple. “You need your strength.”

“I can’t,” you whispered. “I can’t stop thinking about—” You trailed off, the words catching in your throat.

He leaned closer, his forehead pressing gently against yours. “Nothing will happen to you. Not while I’m here.”

His words were meant to comfort you, but even he couldn’t guarantee safety in this hell. You nodded anyway, letting yourself take solace in the sound of his voice.

Minutes felt like hours, and the stillness was almost worse than chaos. Your eyes burned with exhaustion, but the second they drifted closed, shouts erupted from across the room. Then came the first scream. It was sharp, guttural, and it froze the blood in your veins. Chaos descended like a violent storm. Lights began to flash erratically, casting jagged shadows across the walls.

Thanos bolted upright. “Stay close to me,” he said firmly, grabbing his fork. But before he could move, the crowd surged like a violent tide. You were shoved backward, separated from him as panic gripped the room.

“Thanos!” you screamed, your voice drowned out by the cacophony of screams and crashes.

Out of the chaos, you felt Se-mi’s hand grasp your arm. “Run!” she yelled, dragging you toward the far side of the room.

“Where’s Thanos? Min-su?” you asked, your voice frantic as you stumbled forward.

“I don’t know!” Se-mi’s voice cracked, her fear mirroring your own.

The two of you barely made it a few steps when searing pain exploded in your leg. You fell hard to the ground with a cry, clutching your thigh where blood was already pooling. “Ow! Fuck!” you screamed, trying to crawl backward as the pain radiated through you.

Before you could process what was happening, a shadow loomed over you, and then he was there. Nam-gyu. His face was twisted with rage, his eyes wild as he straddled you and forced you down.

“You fucking bitch!” he spat, his voice venomous as he drove a fork into your shoulder.

The pain was blinding, and you screamed, your voice tearing through the chaos around you. He stabbed you again, and again, each strike sending waves of agony through your body. Se-mi was gone, vanished into the madness. You were alone.

“Nam-gyu, why are you doing this?!” you choked out, your hands fumbling for the fork in your pocket.

“You really don’t recognize me, do you?” he hissed, his face inches from yours.

“I’ve never met you before in my life!” you screamed, your hands shaking as you tried to free yourself.

“I’m your cousin, you stupid fucking cunt!” he snarled.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “Wh-what?” you stammered, your voice barely audible over the pounding in your ears.

“Yeah. Your dad’s older brother—the one our grandparents abandoned?” His voice rose, sharp and bitter. “They disowned him, replaced him with your stupid little American father, and now we’re all out of the will. I want my fucking money, Y/n!”

“Nam-gyu, I didn’t know!” you cried, tears streaming down your face as he twisted the fork in your shoulder.

“It’s too late, bitch!” he screamed, his hand tightening around your throat as you struggled for air.

Then, suddenly, the weight of him was gone. You gasped for air, clutching your wounded shoulder as you watched Thanos slam Nam-gyu to the ground.

“You’re gonna fucking die, bitch!” Thanos roared, his voice raw with fury. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t stop to think. The fork in his hand drove into Nam-gyu’s neck once, twice, three times. Blood sprayed across the floor, pooling beneath Nam-gyu’s lifeless body.

You lay there, your body trembling as the world blurred around you.

“Fuck, Y/n!” Thanos’s voice broke through the haze. He was kneeling beside you, his hands covered in blood as he ripped off his hoodie and pressed it against your shoulder. “Stay with me, baby, please,” he begged, his voice trembling. “Don’t leave me.”

You leaned into him, your strength fading but your heart steadying at the sound of his voice. “I’m here,” you whispered weakly.

The lights snapped on, flooding the room with harsh brightness. The chaos ceased as suddenly as it had started, and silence fell. You blinked, your vision clearing as you looked up at Thanos. His face was pale, his eyes wide and filled with something you rarely saw in him—fear.

“I’m okay,” you managed, your voice hoarse. “I’m okay.”

He exhaled sharply, his forehead pressing against yours as he cradled you in his arms. “I’m so sorry…” he whispered, his voice cracking.

You nodded absentmindedly, unable to form words and letting yourself sink into his embrace. Despite the blood, the pain, and the horror surrounding you, you felt safe. Thanos wasn’t just your protector—he was your anchor, the one person who could make you believe there was still hope in a world gone mad.

The guards stormed the room, their commands sharp and unyielding as they broke up the remaining fights. The chaos finally subsided, leaving behind the aftermath—a room filled with blood, broken bodies, and shattered spirits.

Thanos knelt beside you, his arms trembling as he scooped you into his embrace. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, more to reassure himself than you. He cradled you close to his chest, shielding you from the carnage around you as he carried you back to your shared bed. His movements were hurried yet careful, as if you might break further under his touch.

The moment your body met the mattress, Se-mi and Min-su appeared, their faces pale with worry.

“Y/n!” Se-mi cried, her voice cracking as she climbed onto the bed beside you. She wrapped her arms around you as best she could without hurting you further. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry—I got ambushed, and I couldn’t find you. I couldn’t—” Her words dissolved into tears, Min-su crying beside her.

“It’s okay, Se-mi,” you murmured, your voice weak but steady. You reached up to touch her arm, offering what little comfort you could. “I’m okay. We’re okay.”

Thanos wasn’t as easily reassured. His hands shook as he pressed his hoodie tighter against your shoulder, trying to stem the bleeding. His breath hitched, and you could see the panic rising in his eyes. “I let this happen,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “I let you get hurt again…”

“T, stop,” you said softly, your own voice trembling from the exhaustion weighing down on you. “It’s not your fault.”

His gaze darted to yours, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m supposed to protect you.”

You wanted to comfort him, to tell him he had protected you, but your strength was fading fast. The adrenaline that had carried you this far was waning, leaving only the sharp throb of pain and an overwhelming fatigue. You placed a hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay, T. I promise.”

Before Thanos could respond, the guards’ voices rang out again, cold and commanding. “Enough! Time to vote.”

You groaned inwardly. It was 1 a.m., and yet here they were, dragging you into another round of this hellish game. The vote was supposed to take place in the morning, but the guards didn’t have the time to stop you from killing each other.

The room swirled as Thanos and Se-mi helped you to your feet, each of them supporting you on either side. You leaned heavily on them, your body protesting every step as you joined the line of survivors.

Thanos was silent as he held you upright, but you could feel the weight of his emotions in the way his fingers gripped your waist. Tears streaked his face, though he said nothing about them. His jaw was clenched tight, and his eyes were fixed forward, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze.

“I should have done more,” he finally whispered, so quietly you almost didn’t hear him.

You turned your head to him, the movement sluggish. “You did everything, T,” you said softly. “You saved me.”

When it was your turn to vote, you summoned the last reserves of your strength to step forward. Thanos released you reluctantly, his hands hovering near you as if ready to catch you at any moment. You steadied yourself against the console, your fingers trembling as they hovered over the buttons.

Your eyes flicked to the corner of the room where Nam-gyu’s lifeless body lay sprawled. The sight sent a shiver down your spine. He was your cousin—your own family—and yet he’d been willing to kill you over money, over a grudge you hadn’t even known existed. Money that didn’t even exist anymore.

“Fuck you,” you whispered, your voice filled with equal parts anger and sorrow. Then, with all the force you could muster, you slammed your palm down on the X button, praying it was the last time.

You stepped back, your knees threatening to give way, but Thanos was there in an instant. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close as he whispered, “You’re okay. It’s almost over. Just hold on.”

The last player approached the console. The room seemed to hold its breath, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat louder than the last. The player hovered over the buttons for what felt like an eternity before finally pressing X.

A collective sigh of relief rippled through the room. You leaned against Thanos, your body sagging as the realization washed over you: it was over. You were going home.

Thanos buried his face in your hair, his arms tightening around you as if anchoring himself to the reality of your survival. “We’re done,” he murmured. “We’re done, baby. We’re going home.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, hope flickered in your chest. You glanced at Se-mi and Min-su, their faces streaked with tears but lit with cautious smiles. The nightmare wasn’t over entirely, but the finish line was finally in sight. The relief washed over you and you allowed yourself to pass out.

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! :)

Tags: @kaylieiskrazy04 @fr3akyyg1rll @heuningpie @sapph1r3x @moondooll @tranquilty @noharaaa @mariaxman @dear-satan

#thanos x reader #thanos squid game #squid game #squid game thanos #squid game fanfic #squid game 2 #choi su bong #choi subong x reader #choi seunghyun #fanfiction #fanfic

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ierr · 2 days ago

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They call you pretty

lineup; s. nagi, m. reo, i. sae, i. rin, and s. baro(u)

a. n; hey guys! I don’t really have much to say, but I hope you guys enjoy the stories! but I also do have one question, if I made a discord server would ya’ll be down for that? 🤔 let me know!!

aged up!

seishiro nagi. ;

one thing that would distract him from playing that game of his was whenever you came over with your natural look wearing your glasses. he didn't know what It was about you that made him fold every time he would see you with this look, but GOD It took everything In him to not to become flustered In front of you. when you came over you seen seishiro was on his game as usual just smiling to your self sitting on his bed watching him play. you crawled to the end of his bed to where he was leaning on, throwing your legs over, placing your hands to comb through his hair. he flinched from the sudden sensation but relaxed noticing that familiar mole on your leg, he relaxed In your hands sighing. "hi baby." you mumbled, leaning over as he looked up with a lazy smile, "oh, hey." was all he said, “I missed you.” you said, leaning down to peck his lips hearing him sigh in relief feeling your lips on top of his. he missed you so much. this whole bluelock program really took a lot outta him..he had no time of sleeping in, barely anything to play video games and he couldn’t see you!! he almost died.

when he pulled away he got to see you, and boy his face went red for a second before quickly looking away. you were wearing your glasses today. you looked so pretty..when you seen how seishiro looked a little flustered you giggled scratching his scalp a little, "why you get flustered all of sudden?." you knew the answer but you wanted him to say It. seishiro shook his head, trying to focus on his game. "nothing." he mumbled but you didn't buy It, tugging against his hair a little. "shiro." you warned hearing his groan, "you look pretty.." he mumbled again with a tone that read flustered. he was embarrassed. you smiled, trailing your hands towards his chin to make him look up from his game. he had a small frown on his face with a blush covering his cheeks, "I look pretty?." looking anywhere but you, he nodded his head. "really..really pretty." he said slowly averting his eyes towards yours to stare at your e/c eyes that were covered by the frames of your glasses.

“so pretty..”

reo mikage ;

for the past hour, reo has been complaining not stop. It was driving you insane. not even a day since he got back, he’s already starting to get on nerves. though you missed this from being away from each other for awhile, you forgot how impatient he was..you guys are supposed to be going out for his first day off, but you were taking your sweet time doing your hair. "what's taking you so longgg!." he whined for the 15th time coming back to the bathroom to see you're still on the same part! Is what he thought. rolling your eyes, parting another strand of hair, "reo, I swear on my life I am going to hit you." you glared at him through the mirror who raised his hands In a defensive movement with a smirk, "It was just a little question?." he shrugged. ever since he came back from overseas with his team he’s been non stop visiting you. you assumed he was just bored, but he missed you, so much. it was cute! but he was getting on your nerves. you shook your head going back to doing your hair. he didn't walk away or say anything else, but instead leaned against the door watching you through the mirror, he took a moment to just watch you... you're as pretty as the day he met you. your e/c eyes, pretty chocolate skin, pretty lips— he felt like a lover boy all over again.

you caught noticed of this, making eye contact with him through the mirror with a raised brow. "why're you staring at me?." reo grinned once more keeping his eyes on you, "you're so pretty you know that?." he said, leaning from the wall to walk towards, sliding his hands around your waist keeping eye contact with you. "so damn pretty.." you shivered from his breath hitting your neck leaning more against him elbowing him In the chest, "shut up." he chuckled with a playful whine, "If I have to say it everyday babe, I'll remind you every. single. time." he mumbled in between pecking the side of your neck. you sighed finishing the last part of your hair, with a small smile on your face. when you were done with that final strand, you turned around to face him. "you're such a lover boy." reo shrugged taking a strand of your hair Into his hand, "I'm your lover boy though~" — "ew reo! you're so cheesy!." you shook your head playing with the back of his hairs as he chuckled, "yeah? well since you're done with your hair I can show you how cheesy I really am!." before you knew It, reo threw you over his shoulder, dangling being faced with his back wide eyed,

"chameleon boy! put me down!"

itoshi sae ;

It was currently half time. both teams going to their locker rooms to either rest for a bit or to go over a plan for the final half. while you were in the trainers room, cleaning up a bit you didn’t expect a certain pink haired to come in. when you heard foot steps and a door closing, you turned your head a little to spot sae who was holding his neck. like it was bothering him. when you asked what was wrong, he said there was a knot in his neck. so here you are, messaging the knot out. "how does that feel?." you questioned, pressing your finger on his neck hearing him groan. "good." you hummed, moving your thumb to message out the spot. you were currently in the trainers room with sae because apparently he had got a knot in his neck, and came to see you. he sat on the table as you were in between his legs, pressing your thumb into his neck, messaging it out. while you were focused on his neck, his eyes never left your face, his teal eyes boring into your e/c. you felt it. it was making you nervous feeling his eyes on you. you tried to ignore his obvious stare but your eyes couldn't help but jump to stare into his feeling his hand on your waist pulling you closer to him. "sae." you asked and he hummed still looking up at you. "something wrong?." he shook his head no, his grip slightly tightening, continuing to stare at you. you’re so pretty..the way your eyes light up with a spark, your soft smile..he felt his heart beat start to raise a little. he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

you gave him a weird stare, with a raised brow. “is there something on my face..?” beauty. he only shook his head, “you look pretty.” your eyes widen a little but felt your heart flutter. "I look pretty?." you asked, tilting your head to the side with confusion. you looked a mess!! from working with multiple players during the match because of either injury or cramps. It took a lot out of you, your hair was a bit messy, and you looked tired but that didn’t change his prospective of you. you’ve always been so pretty to him..it made his heart flutter every time he got to see you. such a beautiful women he was dating. sae nodded bringing you closer to him. this was out of nowhere. but you smiled, placing a hand on his chest. “you’re distracting me from work you know?” you squinted, and he grinned shrugging his shoulders. “like I care..” you rolled your eyes, “you better get back to your team..i’ll see you when the games over.” you leaned down a little to peck his lips who gladly accepted it.

you’re gonna be the death of him.

Itoshi rin ;

one thing about rin is, he HATES shopping. always hated it, since he was a kid, to a teen, and now in his 20’s he still hates it. he hates the time that’s being spent of walking to different kind of stores, just to either be in there to look or to take hours to decide what you want. but..when it came to you, how could he possibly say no? since it’s been awhile, since you two were together you wanted to have a date night! but the only problem was…you wanted a new dress. rin didn’t get why you wanted a new dress but he didn’t complain about it just following you into the preferred store you wanted it from. It’s been an hour. he never thought it would take a women this long to pick out what she wanted..as he sat in the same seat for the last hour he was growing more impatient. you showed a few dresses to him already, but those weren’t necessarily the ones you liked which is why it’s taking so long to decide. “okay..last dress. swear this time!” you said from the dressing room, he roller his eyes. “you said that the last time.” you can hear the sass in his tone, giggling. “well this time I swear. pinkie.” you were kind of nervous…what if he didn’t like it? you picked this dress out SPECIFICALLY for him. ugh get a grip! you bit your lip, you opened the curtain to reveal the dress you picked out.

as if everything went into slow motion, he felt his face go hot. even though the dress it self was a bit basic, you made it look good. it hugged all your curves in the right places, it made your face pop out, exposing how pretty you are.. “do you like it…?” you asked looking at him, those big e/c eyes staring at him made his heart jump. “you look pretty.” really pretty. “you think so?.” he knows so. rin nodded his head still looking at you, you’re so beautiful. when he stood up, you watched as he made his way towards to get a better look. It was perfect for you. “really beautiful..” he mumbled, making you smile placing a hand on his chest.

“I’m glad you like it.”

shoei baro(u) ;

you always loved having date night with shoei. one because, you barely see each other and second because you love to see the soft side of him. since you do watch every one of his matches, in person or on tv he acts completely different from how he acts when he’s with you. it’s like a light switch that turns on and off, with his team he’s this brutal king in the field that wants to destroy everyone vs how he’s with you. with you he’s such a gentleman and talks to you with a much softer tone than with his teammates which you found pretty funny.

“we have to leave in a few minutes!.” he shouted from the kitchen, “hold on, shoei! I can’t find my heel.” from the bedroom you can practically hear him groan, only shaking his head. searching and scrambling for your lost heel, 1 minute goes by and you finally found it, sliding it in your foot. “okay! i’m ready.” the sound of heels clicked against the floor, made him perk up. you were wearing a simple black dress with black heels with red on the bottom. his eyes softened at the sight of you. you look so beautiful. he was so distracted by how pretty you looked, he didn’t hear anything you had said, until he felt a hand on his chest. “are you paying attention?” you cocked an eyebrow at him, but when he didn’t answer you shook your head, “I said, we better get going before we’re late, sho. and why’re you staring at me like that?” you questioned tilting your head to the side, he hummed. “why else would I be looking at you.” you squinted your eyes towards him, “is there makeup smeared?” shoei rolled his eyes, “no idiot.” — “then what is it?” he gave a small smile,“you look beautiful.” your heart fluttered, giving a big smile, “am I?” he nodded his head with no shame. “you want me to say it again?” he asked with a raised eyebrow and you nodded, “I would love that..” your wish was his command.

“you look beautiful sweetheart.”

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iwasonething · 2 days ago

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living with luigi mangione headcannons

-> somehow luigi has a kind of superpower that makes him sense when ur here, when ur not, if u left eg. while sleeping in the same bed, if u were going to get up to drink some water or if u have sleeping problems, this man would prob follow u wherever ur going in what? 3-5 min? give or take. -> imagine coming home to a kiss on the cheek like "how was today my love tell me about it" with reassuring back rubs and sweet nothings in ur ear like "oh rlly? mhm" while making u tea -> if ur stressed, hed deff tell because if u were living together/u guys were that serious, communication would be key in ur relationship and he does connect well through language and everything esp with his loved ones and hed find it odd how u arent sending him a litany of messages or voice messages ab what ur doing, how's it going, etc etc + hed prob know ur sched in advance if there was anything bigg coming up and he's really that perceptive - truly knowing you completely so yes hed DEF tell if u need him, want to be alone!! of course though, hed give u a kiss on the forehead just to let u know he's here :)) -> this man is REALLY organized w certain info. eg. "what's my social security again?" "oh dw i got it right here babe" be fr he wouldnt drag u to boring meetings with ur landlord about rent or something to discuss numbers.. hed do that all by himself althoughhh u do tell him that u appreciate the journey of going through this TOGETHER as a team so he does let u tag along :)) -> no because luigi would DEF be passionate in saving the environment!! esp in ur household! eg using scratch paper that's cheaper and recycled or seed paper even!! and if ur crafty that's a BIGG plus since u guys can recycle stuff together he'd rlly enjoy it -> if u enjoy gardening, hed def support u in tending to ur plants!! little plant babies do u guys know the type of "harvest with me!" video on tiktok? yes. he'd binge those for inspo. -> luigi i feel shows affection based on acts of service and words of affirmation. picture this: hes just working on some code and ur feeling a bit down :(( (if you are right now though, please know it's going to be alright! take it one step at a time. if ur procrastinating, you should really make a move right now!! truly it is never too late, good luck!!) so naturally u would go to him/sit on his lap and rest ur head at the crook of his neck and hed continue what he's doing with one hand but make an effort to rub ur back with the other asking u "tell me my love" "use ur words baby" i meowed. if ur still feeling down and just rotting in bed (me rn help) hed notice (because he does often check on wherever u are around the house) and play ur favorite song on vinyl, bring u ur favorite tea, and be there if u do want to talk :( -> drowssyyy monday mornings and lazy sundays!! we all know luigi plays roles of being such an active member in our society i mean man was doing rock climbing, an underground christmas lights selling thing on venmo? and he loves the beach, the outside, everything nature! but laying with u in bed is js something he would def NEVER waste :)) esp during slow mornings!! sweet nothings!! everything cute and fluffy

#luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione #free my man

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dyingswanpavlova · 7 hours ago

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"Your girl" - Part 2 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: After he spontaneously abducted you, you try to figure out what his plans are for you. Is it to break your will? Your body? Or something else entirely?

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, violence, abuse, something I'd call mild torture, hinting at traumatic experiences, claustrophobic spaces, chains, degradation

The hunger wasn't the worst part.

No, you had learned to live with the hunger. You were your mother's daughter after all. You had a certain tolerance when it came to unpleasant living conditions.

No, what was far worse than the hunger was the darkness. You had no idea what time it was. Was it still night or had the sun risen already? Were the birds still asleep or were they happily chirping and announcing a new, beautiful day?

Surely it was beautiful to someone. It was someone's birthday. Someone's wedding day. Someone simply got to have a lazy morning and have brunch and coffee at noon.

Not you, though. You were still chained up, still hidden away in a dark closet. And you couldn't even tell if it was night or day.

Yesterday had been far worse though. The memory of it still made you flinch.

Instead of a dark closet, you had spent your day chained to the bed. So far, so good. Up until the point when he made you drink a whole water bottle, right before he chained you up. And then he left. Then he fucking left. You had heard the door shut behind him.

You really weren't a proud person and you had quickly come to realize that your situation required a certain...delicacy. So, you didn't mind when you had to beg. You didn't mind crying or yelling at all. That you just did, it came as naturally as the sun rises early and sets late. You had even agreed to say those damned, magical words.

"I'm your girl, please, I'm your girl!"

But no, silly. It was too late.

"I don't want that fucking, pitiful bullshit." He had spat out as he had tightened the chains around your wrists. "You will say it and you will mean it. Until then, we'll make do with what we have."

Which was exactly what had happened. He had forced the water down your throat and eventually you found yourself in, what he called, your bed. It hadn't been all too bad at first. Except for the obvious discomfort and the constant fear that nagged at you. But it got worse, the moment you felt the pressure in your bladder.

You normally had to use the bathroom about every two hours at the latest. Your urethra was quite tight - You knew that, because your mother had dragged you to a gynecologist as a teen. She had been furious, because you had to use the bathroom so often as a child. She had often snapped at you. Sometimes she even made you wait and told you, you had to wait a certain amount of time, before you could use it. It always ended the same way. You on your knees, begging and pleading with her to let you pee. You could have just let go and peed yourself. As already mentioned, you weren't too proud. But that was a sore spot. More than twenty-three years later and it still was a sore spot.

Your mother sat beside you in the doctor's office, affectionately stroking your hair.

After the doctor finished his speech about the tight urethra, he began a new speech about the way one of your kidneys seemed to be a little slow. It worked, yes. But you had to spend your life going careful around salt and peeing.

My poor darling, she had murmured. I knew there was a reason you had to go so often. My poor, darling girl.

It wasn't normally a problem. Until yesterday, when the sadistic bastard had tied you up and left you like that for nine...fucking...hours.

Your body still hurt terribly, just thinking about it.

You had been tempted to let go and make a mess of yourself. Who cared after all? It was his fucking bed, his fucking clothes, his-

But you couldn't. You just couldn't.

So you had laid on that bed, cried and writhed for hours on end. By the time he came back, he wore the most surprised expression, because he had obviously expected you to let go and pee yourself.

He found you with your eyes swollen and your face puffy, but the bed was dry.

"Such a good girl." He had murmured and tenderly caressed your cheek. "My good girl."

By the time he uncuffed you, you nearly broke both legs jumping up and rushing towards the door. But his low voice brought you back to reality.

"Stop."

You stood frozen, facing away from him.

And then the softest "Please" passed past your lips.

He had been tempted to refuse you, you could tell. He was cruel, sadistic and simply fucking crazy. But for some reason, he had sighed, the sound almost making you sob.

"Go."

And that you did. It had been so painful and so terribly degrading, but you had managed. You had truly managed.

By the time you came back to your bedroom, he still sat on the edge of the bed. Just like the night before - you had expected him to get physical. But instead he simply beckoned you to come closer and instructed you to sit down on the floor before him.

So far he hadn't gotten physical. At least one good thing, you thought. He hadn't ravished you. Yet. Hadn't even tried to kiss you. Nothing.

Hesitantly, you had approached him and sat down on the floor, your arms wrapped tightly around your legs. God, you finally felt like a human again.

"Who are you?" He had asked in that gentle, silken voice.

"Your girl." The words were an obvious mantra, easily repeated all day if so he demanded. But to your horror, he tsked again and shook his head.

He had leaned closer until your faces almost touched and whispered: "You still don't mean it."

Your heart clenched tightly and you whispered: "Please, I-"

But he interrupted you by simply holding up his hand. His fingertips ran down your cheek in a gentle manner and you almost found yourself leaning closer.

Almost.

What two days of hunger and one day of bladder pain could do to you.

"Get in the closet." He instructed firmly.

You swallowed thickly.

"Please." You whispered again. Your desperate tone wasn't for show, the crack in your voice wasn't to manipulate him. You were truly exhausted. But he simply shook his head.

"Don't make me say it again."

You closed your eyes in defeat and buried your face in your hands for a moment. Then you nodded and carefully got up. Everything was a little giddy and dizzy, since the pancakes had been the last thing you ate. But you didn't complain. You weren't that stupid.

You had just been stupid enough to take his hand.

And get in his car.

And his fucking apartment.

If you had struggled, sure, he might have gone crazy and shot you. But was that really that much worse than the prospect of spending the rest of your life like this?

You moved into the closet, a tiny room with hardly enough space for you to stretch out your legs. He made you sit down and then he cuffed you up again. Sitting down, not laying down.

All the while he was in there with you, making sure the cuffs stayed in place, you had stared up at his face with the most desperate expression in your eyes.

Once he finished with the cuffs, all he did was glance down at you, almost gently and smile.

"Be a good girl and let me sleep tonight. Don't scream and shout like you did all morning."

You swallowed again and you couldn't hide the soft tremble of your lips.

"I'm afraid of the dark." You whispered.

He tilted his head to the side, almost thoughtfully. Then he hummed. You had grown to hate that sound.

"I wasn't going to turn off the lights, but well. You may thank yourself. Good night, sweet girl."

"No! Please!"

And with that the lights went out and the door closed.

Click.

You couldn't tell if he slept in your room, to make sure you stayed where you were or if he went to the other side of the hallway and slept in his own room. Whatever it was, you couldn't tell because you didn't hear a thing. All you heard was the sound of your own heavy breathing and the way it got interrupted by a sob every now and then.

It had been a few hours. You really couldn't tell how many. And every time you were about to fall asleep, you flinched and your head shot back up, suddenly all too aware of where you were and what was going on.

Until eventually your exhaustion got the better of you and you fell asleep, your face buried against your knees.

It was a restless sleep, haunted by the memory of the man on the train lines.

But at least you hadn't dreamt of your mother ever since.

Some time later, you were woken up when you felt his hand press down on your shoulder. You flinched so hard, you immediately got a headache. He chuckled at the sight.

"Good morning, sweet girl. Did you sleep well?" He purred.

You were so exhausted and straight-up annoyed that you were tempted to ignore him or give a snarky remark. But you decided against it. Also, you felt lightheaded by how hungry you were, so you simply looked up at him with a soft, timid look.

"Awww." He smirked as he slowly uncuffed you. "I slept just wonderful. You did a good job, keeping your pretty little mouth shut."

He yanked you to your feet, causing you to stumble against him. He instantly wrapped his arms around you and ran his hands over your back. It would have come off as soothing and affectionate, if he wasn't such a twisted bastard. But again, you endured the touch.

It wasn't like you were touch-starved. Not at all. You had never been with a man before, not in that way. But you missed kindness. You missed someone smiling at you in the morning. And if it was only your boss, wishing you a productive day. You missed people.

"Are you ready for your water bottle?"

When he saw the horrified look on your face, he laughed heartily.

"I'm just playing, sweet girl. It's not funny twice."

He carefully led you out of the closet and through the apartment.

"Are you hungry?" He murmured as he gently pressed a hand against the small of your back.

You felt yourself nod. It was obviously some kind of trick, because you were certain by now that you would soon die of starvation and that that had been his plan all along. But you still nodded.

Eventually you reached the kitchen, where the smell of food immediately filled your nostrils. The table was filled with food - rice, vegetables, some meat and fruit. You nearly blacked out at the sight.

"Come. Sit."

He sat you down a few feet away from the table. Of course. A trick. He'd probably make you watch while he ate or something like that.

He sat down opposite you and looked at you for a long moment.

"I'll ask you a question. And you'll answer. Truthfully. No second chances. If you answer to my liking, you get to eat. If you mess it up, you get punished."

You simply stared at him. It wasn't a question, so you didn't answer. Also, after three days of not eating anything - were it truly three days? How long had you been in that godforsaken closet? - you didn't really care about anything else.

"Good." He said calmly. "Are you a virgin?"

That seemed to pique his interest the most, because he stared at you intently, not even smirking for once.

Immediately you felt your face flush in embarassment, but you felt yourself nod.

"Yes." You whispered.

He leaned back in his chair and hummed softly. "You're not lying to me, are you?"

You quickly shook your head.

"How old are you again?"

"Twenty-four." You whispered in the same, weak voice.

"Delicious." He purred. Then he reached over and grabbed a spoonful of rice. When he held it out to you, you choked it down like a rabid animal.

"Careful. You'll get sick." He said in a tone that resembled gentleness. By now you knew there was nothing gentle about him. Nothing good.

But you pushed the thought back, when he fed you another spoon of rice. Two questions, two bites.

"What is the reason you live and work in a country where you don't even speak the language or know the way back to your apartment?"

You swallowed. "I got a good job offer."

"Bullshit." He narrowed his eyes. "The real reason."

You considered lying. But you were sure, for some reason, he would find out.

"To get away from my family." You then whispered.

He sighed in an exaggerated manner and set the spoon aside.

"Too bad, sweet girl. You deceived me the first time. You know the rules. I need to punish you."

You closed your eyes, albeit briefly. It was like they had a mind of their own and you were so exhausted that you could hardly take any more of this.

"You're lucky though. You get to pick your punishment."

Your brows furrowed suspiciously and he smiled.

"No deceit, sweet girl. You get to pick between two options. I'll give you ten seconds each time. If you don't choose on time, I choose for you."

You buried your face in your hands, but eventually you nodded.

His words felt like a gunshot.

"I slap your face or I cut off your hair. Choose."

You froze.

Fuck.

Of course you knew which one you'd pick. You couldn't cut off your hair. For various reasons. First off, it was deeply rooted into your mind that you needed to keep your hair long and lush.

Or else who would ever marry you, honey? No, no. You don't get to cut it off. Not ever. You wouldn't want to disappoint mama, hm?

And then again...Your hair was one of the few things you truly liked about your appearance. You liked the color, the texture...You just enjoyed looking at it whenever you felt bad about yourself. You played with it whenever you were nervous. It was your hair.

When he shot you an impatient look, you suddenly remembered the rules.

Three...two...

"Slap." You gasped out.

He leaned back and his smile widened.

"Are you sure?"

You nodded quickly.

"Smart girl." He purred, almost seductively. "Brave girl."

He didn't give you any time or sign to brace yourself. Instead he simply reached out and slapped your face, with an intensity that made your breath hitch. Your head snapped to the side and you let out a pained moan.

The pain of the slap stung. But not half as much as it would have if you had to cut off your hair.

He hummed. Bastard.

"Very well. Next question."

He sized you up calmly.

"Why did you want to get away from your family?"

You closed your eyes. "Well, they...Well, they..."

"That doesn't count. Disqualified."

Uh-oh.

"You never explicitly specified I had to answer straight-up." You said quietly.

Very slowly he inched forward until his forehead nearly touched yours.

"Are you talking back to me?"

"No." You breathed out.

"Good." He smirked. "I punch your gut or I cut off your hair. Choose."

You had a very bad feeling, like you knew what this game was leading to. The nausea that took hold of you felt suffocating.

"Punch." You croaked out.

No one had ever punched you before. And you had a feeling today would bring many more firsts.

"Hold up your hands."

Reluctantly you obeyed. He looked into your eyes, looking for any sign of disobedience. But all he found was fear.

He tsked disapprovingly.

"Anyone with brains would have chosen the hair." He said lowly. "But you're a pretty girl. I like your long hair." He slowly treaded his fingertips through the length of your hair. "So, you better do us both a favor and answer in time from now on."

With that you felt a sharp blow of pain when his fist shot forward and punched you right in the stomach. He wasn't gentle about it.

You doubled over and nearly fell off the chair. At the same time you let out a desperate sob and gasped for air.

The only thing you could suddenly think about was your slow kidney. Oh God, what if he damaged the good one?

You tried to push these thoughts away as good as you could. It wasn't easy.

You looked up at him with tears in your eyes. And he stared right back with something that looked almost like...pride.

"Why did you want to get away from your family?"

"Because my mother abused me." You gritted out.

Surprise flashed over his features. "How?"

"She starved me, didn't let me pee, hit me everywhere no one could see the scars, locked me in my room for days, yelled at me and many more things, many many more. Dark and twisted things, things you're never supposed to do to someone you supposedly care about. I bet you and her would have gotten along splendid." You couldn't tell who was more surprised about your sudden, angry outburst - you or him. He just stared at you and you half expected him to knock your teeth out.

Instead he slowly reached for the spoon and fed you two spoons rice with vegetables.

"Good girl." He said with no hint of teasing.

You savored the food in your mouth and swallowed slowly, ignoring his words. Mostly. But a part of you was almost relieved that he took so well to your anger.

"Have you ever had a boyfriend?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I'm scared of intimacy."

"Do you regret it?"

"Yes."

"Good girl."

Three spoonfuls, as promised.

"When was the last time you touched yourself?"

Your face flushed instantly, but you forced yourself to answer.

"The day before we met."

One spoon.

"What were you thinking about?"

You felt yourself go pale.

"What?"

He sighed disapprovingly.

"When you touched yourself. What did you think about?" He asked impatiently.

And you were silent. For three seconds. Five. And finally ten.

He stared at you with an intensity that was terrifying.

"Play the rest of the game on your knees or I cut off your hair."

Your cheeks grew warm in shame. But immediately, you slid down to your knees infront of him. The floor was cold, but that was the smallest one of your concerns. You couldn't meet his gaze as you knelt there.

Slowly and almost tenderly he reached down and tilted your chin up. The intensity in his eyes was overwhelming. You couldn't quite detect or name the look in his eyes. All you knew was that it was intense and that it made your cheeks grow even warmer.

"Good girl." He whispered. "I'll ask you again."

At least he warned you.

"What were you thinking about while you touched yourself?"

"I fantasized."

"Specify."

You tried to avert your gaze but his grip on your chin was too tight. The expression in your eyes was pleading. But he didn't care. He didn't care one bit.

Suddenly you realized something. He didn't seem to care about the rules or the game any longer. He just wanted to know.

"I had..." Your eyes fluttered shut and your voice slipped into a barely audible whisper. "I had rough fantasies."

"Specify."

"Of being used." You finally choked out. The words felt like acid in your mouth. Never before had you told anyone about this, except for the one time when you spoke to your psychiatrist.

You had sobbed and nearly choked on your tears, claiming that you were twisted, odd, fucked in the head.

But all he had said in response was; many women have those fantasies. You're not twisted. You simply have desires which go ahead of the ordinary.

By the time you blinked your eyes open, you realized that he wasn't recoiling in disgust. He wasn't laughing at you. He didn't even flinch. He simply seemed curious.

"What else?"

"What...what else?"

"What else do you fantasize about that you consider shameful? Are your fantasies rough? Are they painful? Are they degrading? Are they-" He cut himself off and finally leaned back.

"You did good. Really good." He reached out and played with a strand of your hair. "You got lucky." He murmured. After a long sigh, he got up and said: "Eat up. But slowly. I can't have you puking all over yourself. I have plans for you."

You didn't need to be told twice. In a ridiculous speed you were back at the table and savored the food in your mouth, appreciating every bite.

He turned to leave the room, but stopped in the doorway and looked at you with a small frown.

"You got really lucky." He murmured to himself as he glanced at your form again.

"As did I."

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rdr2enjoyer · 1 day ago

Note

aftercare hcs?

I've been wanting to make some sweeter headcanons lately so-

Long so I'm putting it beneath the cut

Arthur- Arthur tends to feel a little guilty after sex. A strange, vague guilt that he can't quit put a name to no doubt related to his poor self-image. His hands start to itch with the need to help, to work, to serve. So after sex, he starts by gently cleaning wiping you down with a wet (warm if he can get it) cloth. Not just where the mess is, but all over. After the impromptu sponge bath he'll offer water, food, pull the blanket over you and ask if you want him to stay because it just doesn't come naturally to him that yes, of course you do.

Charles- Charles gets so lazy after sex. he falls down next to or ontop of you, not at all bothered by the mess between you. He just wants to hold you against him, listen to you breathe, tell you how incredible you are and how you're the brightest light in his life. But eventually, he does start to clean you two up. He runs wet clothes over the mess between you and gets right back into bed, tugging the blanket up around your shoulders to fall asleep with you.

John- John is also, very lazy after sex and doesn't mind the mess of sweat and cum. He'd probably even amuse himself by being extra clingy with you, laughing at the way you push him off in disgust and gripe about hm being too sticky and sweaty to be touching you all over. After amusing himself long enough he's give in. "When did you become such a princess?" But if your highness is so concered then fine, he'll get the water and he'll clean you both down. After you're both clean he becomes surprisingly clingy. He loves to feel your hands in his hair as you drift off together.

Dutch- Dutch knows the abuse he tends to put you through requires just as much aftercare, and he's surprisingly generous with it. The second you two are finish all those degrading and demanding words are replaced with praise and cajoling. You took everything he gave you so well, and now it's time to reward you. If you don't have acess to a bath, he'll give you a relaxing spongebath instead. He kisses your shoulders and your head as he cleans you, whispering sweet words into your ear. then it's off to bed with you, but he usually doesn't join you unless it's late. He has a gang to run.

Javier- Javier does not need to be told what to do when it's time to clean up and get comfy. He's likely already set the stage before hand, maybe even requested a bath be drawn "Around 40 minutes from now, please," so everythings ready when you are. He does not like to be sticky and sweaty for long after sex, but loves to cuddle afer. So you'll share a romantic bath before getting back into bed.

Sean- Sean is too busy basking in the afterglow, the pride, the feeling of conquest from bedding you (even if it's for the hundredth time) to think about aftercare, for the most part. He'll jokingly lament as you wipe his cum from your body; something about thinking you look better with it on. He's clingy too, so clingy you have to force him off of you if you don't wanna be strangled by sweaty, gangly limbs, to which he'll lament dramatically about being scorned by his lover.

Kieran- Clingy, cuddly, seeks and gives affirmation generously. He can ramble for so long about how incredible that was, how lucky he is, how amazing you are, that he forgets you're both covered in mess and sweat and need to clean off. He doesn't even care too, really. He just wants to bask in this-in you. Maybe if he's lucky it will glue you together and you'll never have to be apart.

Micah- The most aftercare you're gonna get from Micah is a pat on the ass and a cigarette, if he happens to have extra. He'll be smug, telling you all about how loud you were. "Musta been damn good to get you squealin like that, weren't it doll?"

#arthur morgan #john marston #charles smith #kieran duffy #sean macguire #javier escuella #dutch van der linde #micah bell #headcanons #rdr2 #rdr2 smut #rdr2 headcanons #rdr2 nsft #asks

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guilty-pleasures21 · 2 days ago

Text

The last of the real ones

No context, no explanations. Just words and emotions spilling onto my keyboard. Listen to the songs for the full experience.

An only child of the universe

The waves

Wet concrete pt II

This whole damn city

Does your therapist know?

Too good to be true

The only one

Warnings: descriptions of depression and panic attacks.

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

"I wonder if your therapist knows everything about me ..."

9 am: alarm. Don’t hit the snooze button. Get up and open the curtains to let some sunlight in - sunlight makes you happy, she reminded herself as the bright light streamed in through her windows. Make the bed - seeing it in a mess would only put her in a lazy mood for the rest of the day. Shower and brush teeth. And she shouldn’t forget to play the radio on her phone so she wouldn’t have to listen to her thoughts.

9.30 am: breakfast. Two hard-boiled eggs and a cup of hot chocolate to warm her up. And her medication, of course. And the new book she was reading so she wouldn’t have to think about her thoughts - scrolling through her phone would only cause her to spiral down a black hole, so her therapist had advised her to keep it away from her while she had her breakfast.

10 am: gym. She put her earphones in her bag so she wouldn’t be tempted to drown out her thoughts with more music. Instead, she looked around at her surroundings and focused on all the natural sounds of the world as she made her morning walk. The world is beautiful, she reminded herself, and the world is fine. It will keep spinning, even when you feel like you might die. She forced the corners of her lips up, putting on a small smile as she waited by the traffic light. Her smile stretched wider as she walked into her regular gym and made eye contact with the receptionist.

“How was your weekend?” X asked, stopping to engage in conversation - social interactions were good. In small doses, they fulfilled the basic human desire for company.

“Ugh!” Stacey groaned, jokingly putting her head in her hands. “My sister and her boyfriend broke up. Again! So I had to stay in making sure she didn’t overdose on trashy rom-coms and ice cream.”

X snickered at the not-quite-joke and a small smile pulled at the corners of Stacey’s lips.

“What about you?” she asked, completing the customary greeting conversation. X’s stomach twisted into a knot and she quickly pushed aside any thoughts she had of … he-who-shall-not-be-named. A joke. Joking was good. Joking made her … less sad. Her therapist had wanted her to open up about him more, in the initial stages of counselling - because talking about him, reliving the good memories, would help her accept … what had happened. Would help her miss him less - but everytime she felt the sound of his name in her mouth, she would break down all over again until Bruce had told the woman that perhaps it was best to just avoid the topic all together.

“I … read my new book,” X replied, latching onto the first saving grace that blessed her mind. But now she had to elaborate - it was what was expected, after all. “It’s set in the Victorian era. It’s about this guy who’s actually the illegitimate child of an Earl - this high-ranking nobleman during that time period - and his father’s will says that he has to marry someone by the end of the year in order to claim his inheritance. So, he asks his neighbour to pretend to be his bride. And then they actually end up falling in love!”

“Ah, the ‘marriage-of-convenience’ storyline.” Stacey nodded her head knowingly. Then she leaned forward, her eyes alight with excitement. “What’s it called?”

They chatted a bit more before X finally headed over to the lockers to put her things away. Then she put in her earphones, turned up her music and set to work.

She spent the rest of the day going through the usual motions - lunch, library, coffee, dinner with some friends so she wouldn’t be alone with her thoughts for too long - until finally, there was nothing left to keep her from her bed. X opened the door to her apartment and leaned back against it once she’d locked it again, surveying the empty and darkened space. She sucked in a breath and forced a smile onto her face, then turned on the lights and began getting herself ready for bed.

But it was still too early for sleep - she needed to maintain a regular sleep schedule, her therapist would always tell her, and minimise her use of the insomnia pills her psychiatrist had given her. X sighed and grabbed her phone as she sank onto the sofa, preparing to scroll through her social media while the television droned on in the background. She thought she was doing fine, distracting herself from the cold silence sneaking around behind her, waiting for her to look it in the eye and give it permission to devour her whole ...

But suddenly, she couldn’t breathe.

She dropped her phone onto the cushion and reached for her chest as she doubled over, the panic spreading through her veins and filling up her lungs and nose and eyes and everywhere! It was everywhere and it wouldn’t stop and she couldn’t breathe and it hurt - it hurt, hurt, hurt. It hurt so bad, her heart pounding in her chest in terror, begging to be let out, beating against her ribs as she tried and tried and tried to pull down a breath. Just one breath, just one breath. She fumbled around the sofa, reaching for phone, then she dialled the one person she knew would always pick up, no matter what.

“X?” Dick asked, his voice smooth and calm and so, very far away. X gasped into the phone, desperately trying to swallow down whatever air her lungs would permit, and Dick’s voice grew louder. “X, slow down. You’re okay, X, just slow down. You gonna slow down for me? Please?”

X nodded and clutched her phone with both hands as she forced her shallow breaths to slow down. She inhaled deeply, allowing the air to enter her lungs naturally rather than trying to pull it down. “J-Jay-”

“I know, X, I know,” Dick reassured her, his voice soft and gentle and understanding. He understood. He understood and he’d gone through it too and he was okay. He was okay and he would be okay in spite of everything, so maybe she could be okay too. “Can you switch to video for me, X? Can you do that for me, please?”

She sucked in another shaky breath, then swiped up on the video button. Dick’s face filled the screen, his lips stretching into a delighted smile when he saw her - because he was happy to see her, even when she was a mess, even when she was a sobbing wreck who couldn’t get over her grief - and immediately, her stomach began slowly trying to untwist itself.

“Hey, little nightingale,” he greeted her, no judgement whatsoever in his voice - his calm and understanding voice. “We’re going to do our breathing exercises, okay? I’m going to need you to do them with me, X. Can you do that for me? Please?”

X nodded and Dick began narrating the breathing exercises her therapist had taught her. “Okay, let’s breathe in first and count to four. You ready, X? Breathe in, two, three, four, hold, two, three, four, out, two, three, four, hold, two, three, four.”

X followed his instructions, focusing on nothing but making each breath last for as long as he told her to. They repeated the exercise a few more times until finally, she felt her body stop trying to fight her. Dick waited patiently as she brushed the tears and snot off her face, then he flashed her another one of those understanding smiles.

“Hey, we’re okay, right, X?” he asked softly, his tone so reassuring that it chased away any remaining fear that continued to slink around her body. “You and me, together?”

‘Together’. That was what had brought them this far. Pain was always easier when you were dealing with it ‘together’ - when you had someone to share it with sometimes. X nodded in agreement and forced her lips into the smallest of smiles - because smiling also made everything seem just a little less heavy.

“You know your big bro’s always going to be here to protect you, right, X?” Dick continued. “I mean, I am kind of the greatest superhero to have ever walked this Earth.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, as if it wasn’t such a big deal to make such a bold statement, and a soft chuckle fell from X’s lips at his joke. Dick grinned, his smile widening from one of understanding to one of joy - of relief and genuine happiness - and X felt her lips stretch just a little more too.

“There’s that smile we all love and fear,” he joked, coaxing another small snicker from X’s lips. “I’m gonna come by tomorrow if you haven’t got anything on. Do you need more candy? You’d better not have finished the last pack I got you! It was supposed to last three months, at least!”

X glanced around her living room, studiously avoiding Dick’s gaze as a guilty little smile crossed her lips. “Uh, … I might need just a little more candy? Maybe?”

Dick groaned and X’s next laugh was just a little louder than the last one - just a little longer. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay, little nightingale? I’ll keep my phone on tonight so you can reach me if anything.”

“Okay,” X agreed, a wave of gratitude sweeping her up and bathing her in its comforting warmth. “See you tomorrow. Bye, Dick, I love you!”

Dick softened at her words. “I love you too, little nightingale.”

Tags: @stormz369

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changbinsboobs · 9 hours ago

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How is Skz's personal hygiene like?

So for all of them im seeing the have a pretty good hygiene and are very clean and take good care of themselves. More details follow:

Chan - he is overall a clean person, not only in his personal hygiene but also in his home environment and his way of doing things he gives of...i wouldn't say clean freak vibes, but its definitely noticeable to others how he's very particular about things cleanliness.

Lee know - im hearing he likes being naked😂 its natural and healthy to be in a humans natural form. Love that guy😂 so yeah he enjoys spending time in his natural form, like how he came on earth - and he can do that best in the shower of course or while sleeping. Im also seeing him finding a lot of peace and quite in the shower and i think those are the more mindful times of day for him. He can think well and decompress in the shower so, if not for anything else then at least for that reason he does spend a good amount of time tending to his hygiene.

Changbin - for him im seeing that he's always hot so he probably sweats a lot? Im also seeing stomach stuff? Hot/spicy food? Nerves? Something like this. So im leaning towards thinking that he may have some issues with body odor? Maybe he smells faster than the other guys? Or he has a specific scent? (Ik Koreans don't have stinky sweat, they can still stink tho) (not saying he's stinky, just wanted to clarify). So yeah i think he may be overly conscious of that and does his best to keep himself clean and fresh...especially to come actors well to others. The thing i can't pick up on here is if that complex is just in his head or if that people indeed find him smelly, and IF they still find him smelly despite him putting effort in being clean and fresh?

Hyunjin - He loves water!!! And im seeing him absolutely living showers. A bit like lee know i think for him taking a shower could often be the highlight of his day. Also, just to be clear i don't just mean showers when i say hygiene, there other stuff like teeth brushing, changing undies, changing clothes, having fresh smelling laundry, brushing hair, cleaning urself correctly after u use the toilet, hand washing all that stuff. For some reason tho showers have been more in focus so yeah. Anyways back to hyunjin, he loves showers and...thats not so much the topic of the reading but i think he also lives making love in the shower...👀just putting that out there very quickly. I think he takes many showers, like i can see him taking multiples a day. Now contrary to changbin i don't see him being hot all the time, nor being nervous - but i see him sweating A LOT!!! Overall im seeing him being very...liquid(?)😂 idk how to put that into words but like his body does...secrete(?) lots of fluid. So i guess he should shower more often anyways, but that doesn't bother him at all. Also i think he does take quite long in the shower & im seeing him playing scenarios in his head, fantasizing about his crushes, winning arguments, putting someone in his place just having full blown conversations and letting all the sass out in there. I think showering is truly an experience for him😂 love that for my guy.

Han - he keeps himself pretty clean too, im seeing him have a healthy routines and habits concerning personal hygiene i think his parents taught him very well when he was young so thats second nature to him and is just something that belongs to his every day life he doesn't think mich else of it.

Felix - i think he has to get reminded sometimes. Don't get me wrong i think he is clean, he doesn't smell - but that's not so much because he takes such exzellent care of his hygiene but because he's just really lucky and doesn't stink quickly and still looks good even if he skips a shower or two. I wouldn't say that's cuz of laziness or neglect, i think he can get carried away with other stuff at times and maybe struggle to structure his day or time and may forget some basic hygiene needs every once in a while like going out without brushing his teeth, or using the toilet and not washing his hands...something like that. But again he's really lucky and i bet most people don't even notice until he says something cuz he just remembered or whatever.

Seungmin - ehm...im not seeing that much about his personal hygiene but rather im seeing he's someone to judge others for theirs(?). Or maybe judge is too strong of a word, but like, calls others put. If someone lacks a bit somewhere like not doing skin care, not fixing their hair, not brushing teeth immediately after eating he calls you out, provably publically, and kind if pressures you into doing whatever u haven't done.

I.N - he thinks personal hygiene is very important and diligently takes care of himself. This is something he has to think about consciously, contrary to han for example for whom its just second nature - i.n put conscious thought and care into it. Im also seeing him following social and trend rules religiously altogether and likes to comply with those and fit in and be...obedient(?) and good(?).

#skz #stray kids #kpop #tarot reading #seo changbin #bang chan #lee know #hyunjin #lee felix #han jisung #seungmin #i.n tarot #kpop tarot #skz headcanons #skz imagines #skz reactions #skz tarot #stray kids tarot

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lesbiansanemi · 29 days ago

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I hate my roommate’s cat more and more with every passing day

#okay that’s not fair cuz like. I know it’s not really his fault it’s not fair to blame the cat #but oh. my god.#never mind the not really taking care of him so he has become my responsibility #she has REFUSED (re: is too lazy) to actually train him at all #like I understand training a cat is hard but like dude. you really can’t just let him do whatever he wants esp when it’s causing issues #and/or gross #you have to teach him he can’t jump on kitchen counters like I’m sorry that’s gross #I’m not one of those ‘pets aren’t allowed on furniture ppl’ ofc I think that’s insane #but yeah you need to teach him he can’t jump up on counters or shelves #he also likes jumping on top of my bearded dragon’s enclosure #which he has 1. broken two heat lamps so far by knocking them off (which ofc my roommate has not replaced cuz why the fuck would she)#but also I’ve explained to her so many times that I don’t want him up there cuz it’s stressful for my beardie?????#like girl he’s a fucking lizard and all of a sudden there’s this huge dark shape moving around above him #that’s not good for him??????#but she laughs it off and is like ‘he doesn’t look stressed tho’#like okay sure now quickly explain to me what you actually know about beardies and their behaviors NOW #so naturally she does nothing to stop him and when I catch him obviously I get him off and scold him a bit #when he hears me getting ready to turn the corner he jumps off cuz he knows *i* don’t like him there #but with only one person enforcing any of this…..#he also still constantly antagonizes one of my cats and refuses to leave her alone even when she hisses at him #and my roommate is always just like ‘oh it’s just their THING he’s FLIRTING with her boy cats are just more friendly and girls are bitchy’#like okay weird cat sexism aside can you really not fucking see how this is bad for both of them or are you actually that fucking stupid #(she’s actually that fucking stupid)#and all this shit is so fucking irritating and I’m tired of dealing with it and this dumbass cat #that does nothing except annoy me and make my life harder #and she does nothing but brush it off when I bring it up and actually ACTIVELY ENCOURAGES some of it??????#Jesus Christ I’m so fucking done #kaz rambles

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foldingfittedsheets · 2 months ago

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There was this park near where I grew up. I remember we’d just moved to the area so I was around six and we drove past and saw this waterfront area. My parents decided to check it out so we went for a walk. It was a lovely park, there’s a lazy slough, lots of trees, extremely picturesque. My parents ambled along the trail enjoying the nature while my siblings and I ranged around in their orbit like excitable moons.

Then I saw something odd. Something vibrantly alive down by the water that was entirely the wrong color. I called back my vital scouting info and my family gathered around me. We looked down the steep verge toward the slough, screened by underbrush. We couldn’t quite make out what it was. The only thing we could agree was that it certainly wasn’t a duck. However it was about duck sized and roughly duck shaped. It just wasn’t a duck.

This led to some heated debate amongst my siblings and I but we were forbidden to scramble down the muddy hill to harass the mystery animal. Reluctantly we continued down the trail, speculating wildly when a chicken popped out of a bush in front of us with a train of several chicks.

We froze. The chicken did not. She placidly herded her little puffs across the trail, pecking happily for seeds, unbothered by our proximity. My family had not yet delved into farming and this was the first time any of us kids had seen a chicken up close. It was like a fairytale thing, a creature we had seen over and over in books was suddenly here in the wilderness of the park. We all realized the mystery creature had likewise been a chicken.

Another couple came up the trail and saw us staring.

“Is this your first time at the park?” They asked?

We nodded.

They informed us that this park had become a dumping ground for unwanted chickens. Once the chickens were dumped they were park property and the locals didn’t mind the eccentric additions at all. No one looked after the chickens, but they got on surprisingly well.

As the years went by we visited the park regularly. Signs were added to warn people not to dump off chickens or they’d be fined. They were also excluded from snatching the existing chickens. The hope was that the chickens would eventually run their course and the park would go back to normal.

It did not.

Instead the menagerie grew. Peacocks cropped up occasionally, turkeys; and one visit we saw guinea fowl. But there were always chickens. Eventually feed dispenser were installed so park goers could pay a quarter to enjoy the motley flocks.

Because we’d moved into a house with land my mom started up a chicken coop and we got our very own chickens at the feed store like proper folks. The first rooster we had was a gentleman, politely clucking at us when came into the coop, but the second proved troublesome a year later. He either adored or hated me. Every time I entered the coop he’d dance and flounce and brandish his spurs.

My mom didn’t want to off him frankly she didn’t know how at that point but his fascination ended with him flying at me and the rooster was sentenced to banishment.

We drove to the park.

We saw him there for years afterward, clucking dutifully around a small flock of hens. He did pretty well in exile.

Anyone who’s kept chickens knows that eventually there’s always a tragedy. Ours happened when a neighbors dog broke into our coop and slaughtered the flock. I was absolutely distraught, my lovingly hand reared chicks all decimated in a flurry of senseless bloodlust. I have not loved a chicken since. They are too fragile to bear it.

After a few days of mourning my mom offered that she knew where to find some more chickens. To make up for the massacre she planned a night raid with us. We stayed up past our bedtime and drove to the park with tarp covered kennels in the back of the truck.

We crept down along the gravel parking lot, looking up into the trees, spotting the telltale lumps of shadows that meant chickens. We quickly developed a strategy. We picked a chicken branch, creeping close underneath. Then we reached the end of the branch and gave it a good shake until the roosting chicken glided down to the ground in confusion. It was easy to scoop them up and we went home the proud new owner of a handsome flock of chickens.

The Take a Chicken Leave a Chicken park is still a beloved feature of its neighborhood to this day.

#ramblies #writing #funny #chickens #chicken park #story #ffs foibles #animal death

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littlelamy · 2 months ago

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sleeping with rafe

Rafe couldn’t sleep without you. Whether it was his bed, your bed, or even the couch, he needed you beside him, wrapped up tight, grounding him in a way only you could. Tonight was no different. The moment you slipped under the covers, he pulled you into his arms, sighing deeply as he buried his face against your chest. After a long, exhausting day, all he wanted was to be tangled up with you.

Usually, he preferred to be the big spoon, wrapping you up in his embrace like a protective barrier against the world. But tonight, he craved your warmth more than ever. He nestled his way down, resting his head on your chest, sighing contentedly as he felt your soft skin under his cheek, the rhythm of your heartbeat lulling him. His hand drifted beneath your shirt, fingers gliding over your bare skin, sending tingles through you.

“Missed you,” he murmured, pressing soft kisses against the delicate skin just above your heart. His lips traveled slowly across your chest, savoring each inch, each gentle curve. When he finally reached your nipple, he paused, eyes fluttering shut as he closed his lips around it, sucking softly, his tongue flicking teasingly against the sensitive skin. (rafe having an oral fixation > )

A shiver ran through you, and your breath hitched as you tangled your fingers in his hair, feeling the heat pool low in your stomach. Rafe smiled against you, clearly enjoying your reactions as he took his time, lost in the warmth of you. Each slow pull of his mouth was both possessive and adoring, a perfect blend that made you feel cherished.

“God, you’re so soft… so perfect,” he whispered, pulling back for a moment to watch your face, relishing the flush on your cheeks. He pressed his cheek against your chest again, listening to your heartbeat, tracing gentle patterns across your waist with his fingers.

But as the moments stretched on, you felt that familiar pressure building in your bladder, and you knew you’d have to get up. You tried to shift out of his hold, but Rafe wasn’t having it. Even as you tried to ease your way out from beneath him, his grip tightened, instinctively, possessively and with a sleepy groan.

“Where are you going?” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep, his arms looping around you like a vice.

“I… I have to get up,” you whispered, trying not to disturb him too much. He just groaned, shaking his head as he snuggled even closer, tightening his hold like he thought you might just disappear if he let go.

“Just a few more minutes,” he murmured, pressing a sleepy kiss to your collarbone, his face still buried against your chest. “Stay.”

You chuckled softly, heart warming at how attached he was, even if it meant you were stuck for the time being. But eventually, nature’s call grew too insistent, and you had to put your foot down.

“Rafe, I really have to go,” you said, a bit more firmly this time. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked up at you, pouting slightly, as if to say how could you leave me like this?

With a defeated sigh, he finally relented, loosening his grip just enough to let you slip out of bed. But as you padded to the bathroom, you felt his presence right behind you, half-awake yet determined to stay close. You glanced over your shoulder to find him trailing you, eyes half-lidded and hair tousled, his expression one of pure sleep-addled stubbornness.

He leaned against the doorframe as you entered the bathroom, his gaze unwavering even as you went about your business. You shot him a look, but he only grinned, sliding down to sit by the door, resting his head against the wall with a lazy smile, as if this was perfectly normal behavior.

When you finally returned to bed, he wasted no time in gathering you back into his arms, settling back into his preferred spot on your chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin as he sighed in satisfaction.

“You’re not allowed to leave me again,” he muttered, voice muffled against you.

You chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, alright. I’m not going anywhere.”

And with that promise, he relaxed completely, his breathing evening out as he drifted back to sleep, held securely in the warmth of your embrace.

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zyafics · 3 months ago

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CAN YOU PLEASE, PLEASE ON MY KNEES WRITE ABOUT BITCHY!READER X RAFE AND IT'S SMUT?? I FEEL LIKE YOU'LL DO IT JUSTICE!!! thank you

you literally read my mind because i was just thinking of this prompt that works so well with bitchy!reader!! hope you'll enjoy <3 (if it’s bad, look away!!)

WHATEVER SHE WANTS | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Blurb) | x Bitchy!Kook!Female Reader

Content — 18+, power/dominance play, p in v, doggy style, orgasm denial, and dirty talks

Word Count — 2.2K

lıllılı Whatever She Wants by Bryson Tiller

You always wanted Rafe.

It's your right. Since you were a child, you demanded the best in everything—toys, clothes, boyfriends. They had to be perfect. Had to be yours. And yes, it may come off a little superficial but who cares? It's what you deserve, and it'll be hell if you don't get it.

Since the first look, when you caught Rafe lounging on a chair with his friends, tipping the rim of his beer onto his lips, while his eyes scanned over the room in an attractive lazy way, you knew you had to have him. It didn't help that you were competitive, and Rafe garnered attention with women. They flocked to him and begged for a minute of his time. It became a game to you, and that heightened your need.

Everything was calculated. The makeup you wore, the outfits you curated, the glances. You always timed your arrivals—when you knew Rafe would be watching the door—and marked your exits. You knew exactly what to wear—dresses that tantalizing exposes your ass, but only as a preview—and the cosmetic style he liked. Rafe's the type of man who believes he wants a bare-faced woman, but truly, he wants something natural that enhances your features.

You came with friends. You left alone. You drank enough to loosen your nerves and danced with the crowd, but not enough to make a fool of yourself. You knew your tolerance and knew Rafe didn't like a messy girl.

At least, in public.

You caught his gaze a couple of times, flashing a flirtatious smile over your shoulders, but never lingered longer than three seconds. Rafe can't know how easy he can have you, because Rafe, like most boys, loves a chase. You're not easy, you're spoiled. He had to come to you.

And he did.

Rafe tried to introduce himself on several occasions. On those nights when you're leaving early—as planned—Rafe would cut to the door to pay a parting remark. "You're leaving so soon?" he would ask, "Alone? Again?" He would add. You always told him it was because no one caught your eye, and Rafe took that as a personal challenge. He would then try to tell you his name, as if he were different, to which you nod—detached—as if it didn't matter.

It drove him insane.

Because you didn't offer the same courtesy. You kept him guessing. He had to finally ask around to learn your name, which he would use to tease you the next time he saw you. And he did. And you laughed. But you acted like you didn't care. Like all the trouble he went through didn't prove a thing. That's when Rafe knew he needed you.

Tonight's no different. Just as you're about to leave, Rafe catches you with another smooth pick-up line. You just giggle. He studies how your eyes crinkle with amusement, the curve of your lips painted in his favorite shade of lipstick, and the lithe tilt of your head to the side as you ask him with your gaze, is that the best you got?

It isn't. But Rafe's determined to get further with you tonight. He continues to talk, asking about which men disappointed you and the reasons for your constant disappearances from these parties. And, for once, you're answering his questions with little resistance. Perhaps, it's because of the amount of cheap wines you consumed, or maybe you—for once—are tired of the games and want it to come to a fruitful end. Because when Rafe finally asks to take you home, you don't say no.

The walk to his truck is brisk. His arm wrapped around your waist, directing your path, while his fingers trail over the backless cut of your dress, producing a buzzing feeling beneath your skin. He's whispering something in your ear, but all of it is incomprehensible as you revel in the feeling of his touch and his touch alone. The feeling of your game coming to a conclusion.

And, just as you're about to reach the car, Rafe slams you into the side of the vehicle with a searing kiss.

His mouth catches yours and everything feels perfect. As if the buildup leading to this precise moment had been worth it, and every needy emotion rises to the top. His hand travels down the length of your body, to your hips, pulling you closer, and needing to eliminate all the space and wait you made him do.

Rafe's movements are swift and controlled. One of his hands props open the backdoor of his car, pushing you inside, and laying you against his leather seats. All without breaking the kiss.

"You don't know how long I wanted this, wanted you," Rafe blubbers between wet kisses. "Seeing you at every party, in these tiny dresses, not being able to touch," he rasps, bundling the hem of your dress into a tight fist. "Tell me you wear them for me."

"And if I did?" You say with a moan, tipping your head back to grant him access to your neck. "Did you like them?"

"Of course I did," he murmurs against the curve of your neck, the vibration of his words sending heat straight to your core. "You dressing up for me like my own perfect doll."

You want to retort that it's him who's in the palm of your hand, but Rafe sucks on a sensitive spot, causing your eyes to roll back and a whimper to escape your lips instead. He grabs your wrists with one hand, throwing them over his shoulder as he pulls you flush against his chest.

"So pretty, so fucking untouchable," Rafe kisses down the length of your throat, his fingers collecting the spaghetti straps of your dress before sliding it down the slope of your shoulders. "I'm going to fuck you so good."

His words snap you out of your haze. And while Rafe continues to expose more of your body, lamenting each reveal of flesh with a kiss, you withdraw enough to grab his attention.

"You're not fucking me in a car."

"What?" Rafe breaths, unable to snap out of the trace you had him in. Delirious with want, his mind warped around the idea of you being so close to attainable, that all rational manners left his system. He tries to kiss you again, to resume the moment, but you pull enough to send him a deadly glare, pouty and spoiled.

"Rafe, take me somewhere nice or we're not fucking at all."

He can't believe what he's hearing. He can't believe he's contemplating it. But Rafe doesn't understand that you have it all planned out to result in a perfect moment. You won't let it be disrupted just because Rafe can't drive the extra mile to take you somewhere nice. You'd rather leave him with blue balls.

"Are you serious?" He asks slowly, his eyes drawn to your swollen lips, the little pout, and the desperation to have them back on his. Sure, Rafe's had girls who wanted something more than a casual fling. He had them ask him for a better spot, but he never obliged. He never cared. But you're different. He wants you, and it's been a hell of a chase to get you here. He'll be damned if he lets it slip away because of a pretentious standard.

"Does it look like I'm joking?" You cross your arms over your chest, pushing your breasts further up. He nearly groans at the sight. "We're not having sex here."

"The nearest place has to be at least a fifteen-minute drive," Rafe argues. And it makes you upset, brows pinched together. "We can just—"

"I don't care," you snap. "Take me somewhere nice or I'm leaving."

You're serious. He sees it on your face. Rafe can't risk that, despite wanting to protest, because he knows he if he messes this up, he won't have another chance. Swearing under his breath, he drags himself out of the backseat and into the driver's side, pulling the car out of the parking lot.

Dangerously, Rafe speeds down the road, while you're sitting in the backseat with a self-satisfied demeanor, fixing your makeup through the rearview mirror. Occasionally, Rafe spares a glance through the same reflection, connecting with your gaze, and while there's subtle bitterness coiled in his chest, he recognizes the bigger prize at hand.

And what he can do with it.

Because, despite your bratty attitude, Rafe is a person who wants control. You want perfection. You two can have both.

That's how you find yourself in a newly-booked penthouse suite at one of the bougie hotels in Kildare, your head digging into the soft comforter of the bed, your ass in the air, as Rafe drills into you from behind.

When you reached the room, everything moved frantically. Rafe slammed you against the nearest wall to kiss you again—needing your lips, needing your taste—while his hands roamed over your dress and pulled down your cleavage, revealing your tits. Your hands wandered down his pants, unbuttoning them hurriedly, needily, and he assisted you by pulling them off alongside his boxers. His cock was big, slightly red with a pearly bead of pre-cum that rolls off the tip. And you could tell by the look on Rafe's face that he wanted you to suck it.

But you told him, "I don't do blowjobs."

So fucking pretentious.

It didn't matter. He hauled you over to the king-sized bed and pushed you onto the mattress. You landed with a soft thump, while Rafe hauled you up to your ass, pushing up your dress, until it became nothing but a bundle around your waist. His movements were urgent, and he wanted—no, needed—to be inside you because a bratty girl was going to be a great fuck.

And he was right.

You're perfect. The way you wrap around him, the way he sinks inside you. He doesn't know if it's because of the delirium of wanting you so desperately, of chasing you for so long—but he never had better pussy. And it doesn't help that your moans are sweet, breathy, and loud—begging him to go faster.

"Such a pretentious brat," Rafe grabs your throat, hauling you upwards till your spine rest on his chest, airway constricted by his harsh grip. "Making me wait this fucking long."

"R—Rafe," you mewl, eyes rolling to the back of your skull at the way he's angling his cock deep into your cervix, bullying the sensitive spot over and over again until you're seeing stars.

"Had to get the princess treatment, did you?" He murmurs hotly into your ear, nibbling a spot on your neck as you rest the back of your head on his shoulder. His thrusts grow more erratic. "Had to make me earn you, didn't you?"

"You weren't going to fuck me in a car," you persist, and despite how cockdrunk you became, and how much of an attitude you're willing to sacrifice to feel good, you were still adamant about receiving what you deemed enough. He respected that. "I'm not one of your whores."

"But I'm fucking you like my own personal slut. Is that any better?" He bites the lobe of your ear, and his other hand wanders up to grab a handful of your breast, squeezing the fat before rolling your perked nipple between his fingers. You moan louder. "What does that make you?"

You can't seem to answer him, can't seem to find your senses. The words Rafe uses are vulgar, but there’s still no regrets about this entire thing. Rafe wanted you so badly, that he was willing to spend hundreds of dollars on a hotel he probably won't even stay the night in. All because you demanded it.

You win.

"Shut up," you stammer, your stomach tightening. "Shut up and just fuck me, Rafe."

Rafe grins. The hand playing with your tits slips between your thighs to assist, finding your clit easily as he rubs it with his thumb in sync with his thrusts. Breathy moans escape you as you arch into his palm, while he pistons deeper inside of you, bottoming out.

"You sound so pretty, doll," Rafe murmurs against your heated skin, "Come on, take my fucking cock."

Everything’s so dirty. The way he handles you, the way your wetness drips down your thighs, the way his words breathe onto your skin and tighten your core. But you love it. You do, but you're not willing to give in so easily. No matter how good it feels. No matter how much he feels like a prize.

"You don't deserve me." You whisper with a mewl, body tightening with the familiar wave of your undoing.

Yet, Rafe merely grins.

"But you're sucking in my cock like you need me," Rafe taunts, pleasure coursing through his body at the way your walls grip him in a vice. The way your words spark challenge and invitation. He knows, despite your spoiled attitude and pretentious demands, he'll do anything to get another chance like this. "Now, behave like a good girl or you're not coming tonight."

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tagging @starkeysprincess bc she saw it first <3

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